by Bree Porter
I took Kon’s outstretched palm, linking my fingers with his.
“What does mud mean?” He pressed a kiss to the word.
“Sticky mixture resulting from dirt and rain.”
His eyes gleamed. “Not the literal definition, lyubimaya. What does mud mean to you?”
Niko’s words danced around my mind. Yes, Mama. I’m happy.
“Something Niko said to me when we were playing outside.”
“Before you trekked dirt throughout the house?” Kon smiled faintly. “You’re both going to get sick.”
I could already feel a headache coming on and my sinus’s clogging, but I wasn’t about to admit that. “We’ll be fine.”
He shook his head, holding back his laughter so he didn’t wake up our son.
We ventured outside, careful not to slam doors or make too much noise. The house was quiet in slumber, only Babushka was awake. She sat on the windowsill by the front door, guarding us while we slept. Her tail swayed in irritation when she saw us, but she didn’t object when we slipped out the door.
Grass crunched beneath our feet as Kon led me further into the entangled flora.
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.”
I sighed. “I hate surprises.”
He only smiled.
Tucked away in the garden was an old greenhouse. The inside had long ago been taken over by the garden, making it impossible to open the door and enter–Danika and I had tried a few times. She had cut herself on the broken glass and we had given up.
I noticed that the greenhouse had been pruned back immediately. The door was open, the glass windows replaced.
“What is this?”
Konstantin pressed a hand to my back, pressing me forward. “Take a look.”
Sunlight shone through the panes, illuminating the rows of tables and empty pots. Watering cans and packets of soil leaned against the walls, as well as a small seating area. Plain, but not in a boring way, in a way that implied the greenhouse was waiting for someone to come along and create life within its walls.
Tears brimmed in my eyes.
“Konstantin…”
Only a single flower grew, the pot situated in the middle of the space. Purple foxglove.
“For you, my Elena.” He said from behind me. “A place for you to grow your poisonous plants–where the pets and children can’t reach them.”
I covered my mouth. The swell of emotions inside of me couldn’t be described with a single word, there was no collection of the alphabets 26 letters that could accurately explain the aching and happiness and love inside of me.
“Turn around,” he said softly.
I did.
His hands were cupping a small velvet box.
“My Elena.” His voice was heartbreakingly soft. “Since the moment I read your words, I have loved you. You were a mystery I couldn’t unravel, a magical creature come to trick me into the forest. You were my equal, my opponent. There has never been anyone else for me and there never will be.” He flipped open the box’s lid, revealing a beautiful ring inside. “It would me my honor to become your husband.”
I felt my lips quiver as tears began to slide down my cheeks.
I managed to whisper, “Get on one knee.”
Konstantin looked nervous but asked, “One knee?”
I nodded. “I am no conquest, Konstantin. I am no territory to be invaded. If you want me, then get on your knees and surrender yourself to me. Perhaps I will grant you entrance.”
Then the Tarkhanov King, the Pakhan of the most feared Bratva in history, got down on one knee before me. He presented the ring like a knight offering the queen a token of his affection.
“Lyubimaya, my love, my empress,” he said. “Become my advisor, Sovietnik and partner. Never let there be another day where we are separated.”
I cupped his face between my palms.
The question made everything inside of me shatter.
“Elena, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Words had failed me. Instead, I burst into tears, and fell into him. His strong arms came around me, holding me to his chest with tenderness and love.
“Is that a yes, lyubimaya?”
I nodded through the sobs. “Yes, yes, I will marry you.”
Konstantin slipped the ring onto my finger. Through the midst of tears, I could make out the beautiful piece of jewellery. A pear-shaped emerald surrounded by white crystals, all resting on a golden band.
“Natasha brought it.” He kissed my fingers, one by one. “It’s a family heirloom. As soon as she knew you had returned, she hunted it down.”
We kissed softly.
“I thought you were going to say no.” He told me between kisses.
I laughed and pressed my lips to his again. “I thought you were never going to ask.”
Konstantin and I made sweet slow love over the dirt, any care for mess and stains forgotten as we cemented our feelings for each other. Afterwards, he held me to his chest and we watched the sun lighten the greenhouse, transforming it from a soft blue to golden glow.
“What’s the first plant you’re going to begin growing?” He asked. “Besides the obvious.”
I smiled. “I don’t know. It’ll be poisonous, though.”
His laughter swelled around the shed, dancing off the panes. “I expected nothing less.”
We told Nikolai first. He was still asleep when we returned, his bum in the air. I didn’t want to disturb him; he resembled a snoozing bear cub. His peacefulness didn’t last long, soon he gave a little fart, and scared himself awake.
Boys, I laughed to myself.
“Your dad and I want to share some news with you.” I crawled onto the bed and crossed my legs. Konstantin stopped putting on his shirt. “Do you want to know?”
“Know?” Niko repeated. He wiggled out of the blanket and crawled into my lap. I wrapped my arms around him and showered him with kisses. “Know what?”
“The news your dad and I have.”
Konstantin approached us. “It’s very exciting.”
“What is it?” He looked between us both expectantly.
We shared an affection look before turning our attention back to our son.
“We’re getting married.”
Niko didn’t really react. His nose scrunched up. “Time for breakfast?”
I laughed. “You’re going to be a ring-bearer, wild boy.”
He looked deep in thought for a few moments before asking, “Blueberry pancakes?”
Konstantin and I shared a look of amusement over the top of his head. Toddler’s weren’t known for their ability to understand monumental events–especially when the topic of ‘what’s for breakfast?’ was much more interesting.
Roksana was the next to find out. She caught us in the hallway on the way to breakfast, bursting into tears as soon as she saw the ring.
“Oh, Elena, Kostya.” She kissed us both on the cheeks before giving Niko a cuddle. “I’m so happy for you both. This is a dream come true–I am without words.”
The rest of the house found out quickly after that. We were showered with hugs, kisses and congratulations. Dates and floral arrangements were discussed offhandedly–everyone already knew it would be small and abrupt, like we would wake up one morning, drag everyone out to the yard and make Artyom marry us after getting ordained online.
To celebrate, Dmitri made us fruit cake from scratch. For such a cold and frightening man, he had a pure and heartfelt way of showing his love.
Joy swarmed through every hallway and doorway, filling the house to the brim. There was no thoughts of Tatiana or pain or what was to come. Instead, I sat with my family, shoulder to shoulder, with my hand in Konstantin’s and my son nestled on my lap. The ring gleamed beneath the lights.
I kept finding myself looking at it. Not in a conceited way. I had never been good at judging the price or value of metal and
jewellery. Instead, I rolled the ring between my fingers with a strange feeling in my chest.
I had worn a Falcone ring for a time. I had hated it. I used to see how often I could get away with not wearing it. I even pretended to lose it in the garden a few times.
I didn’t mind this. Tarkhanov ring. In fact, sometimes when I was alone, I admired the emerald. The green matched my eyes–a fact Kon enjoyed immensely.
Like it was made for you, he told me after breakfast. It’s like my ancestors knew you were going to join our family and made a ring befitted for you.
I rolled my eyes, but secretly I was pleased. Agostino, Falcone, Strindberg. All these names I had worn like hats, switching them whenever the weather changed. But now I had a new one.
When I met Natalia’s eyes across the table, she raised her mug. “Tarkhanova,” she mouthed, the word silent but as powerful as a scream.
The joy, like many things, did not last long.
Tatiana striked once again that very same evening.
“The horses have been named illegitimate,” Artyom said.
Konstantin helped everyone by explaining. “Racehorses are prided on their good breeding. By being accused of faking parentage, especially since Hilarion has been studding, is a great dishonour. Our titles have been removed and investors are asking for their money back.” He was looking out the window, deep in thought. I was swinging on his desk chair, overlooking our family who were sprawled around the room.
“Tatiana is coming after my investments and my reputation,” he said. “A dirty way to fight but an effective one. A way of battle that I have partaken in.”
“Why this?” Danika asked. She was sitting on the floor beside Dmitri. He rested a fatherly hand on her head.
“If we’re out money and allies, we’re vulnerable,” Kon explained. “She’s twisting the knife, it seems.”
“I don’t want to say I told you so…” Natalia trailed off, eyes alight with mischief. In an odd move on Kon’s part, he had invited his niece to the meeting. She would someday be a fellow ruler, and an enemy in some ways, meaning confidential information about the Bratva and it’s weaknesses couldn’t be shared with her, but he had still asked for her opinion about Tatiana.
Everyone sent her loaded looks, which just sent into a string of high-pitched giggles.
“The orchard and banya were only the beginning, Kostya,” Roksana said. “She wants revenge, and she intends to have it.”
All eyes went to Danika, who looked down at her hands.
I knew she had nightmares about the bullet ripping through her flesh–I had nightmares about holding her blood in my hands. Some days I woke up convinced my hands were sticky with the ichor, spending ages washing them in the sink until Kon calmed me down.
Artyom glanced briefly at me, his dark eyes filled with calculations, before looking back his Pakhan. “We need to bring her down, Kostya…before she hurts one of us–again.”
I stopped swinging.
Konstantin shook his head immediately. “No, Elena. That is my final decision on the matter.”
“She knows your weaknesses, Kon,” I reminded him. “She lived with you for a decade. Me? Tatiana doesn’t know what makes me tick and it drives her crazy.”
“I will not repeat myself.”
Artyom swallowed. “Boss, maybe–”
The look Konstantin sent him could’ve peeled the skin off Artyom’s bones. Artyom didn’t look afraid, a lesser man would’ve shat himself, but he did back down. He knew when his Pakhan wasn’t going to be pushed into changing his mind.
Roman looked like he was going to say something but Olezka slammed a hand over his mouth, sending him a warning look. I narrowed my eyes at him for added emphasis.
Babushka slumped into the room, tail swaying behind her. In an elegant move, she leaped onto the desk and stretched out over the mahogany. It was clear we were interrupting her nap time with our very important meeting.
I met Konstantin’s eyes, an argument passing between us.
“Do you have another plan?” I asked.
I wasn’t as angry with Kon as I thought I would be. I knew he was just trying to keep me safe; I would’ve done the same thing if I was in his position. Even if I understood, I was still angry he thought so little of my intelligence that Tatiana could hurt me.
“I know you’re very capable of bringing down Tatiana by yourself.” He read my thoughts. “But I also know Tatiana is very capable of hurting you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You could be pregnant, Elena.”
“We don’t know that–”
Danika gasped and put a hand over her heart. “It’s just bullet after bullet.”
We all glared at her.
She smiled sheepishly. “Too soon?”
“It’ll be too soon forever,” Roman grumbled.
Danika went bright red.
Their relationship was still the rattlesnake everyone was trying to avoid stepping on. Roman could barely look at Danika most days, and in return, Dani hadn’t been her usual charming self. The energy between them was fizzled and tense–and caused whoever was in their proximity to feel uncomfortable and frustrated.
I had told Kon I wanted to lock them in a room together, but he had advised against it. Something about health and safety concerns.
Natalia was glancing between them, brown eyes wide. She looked shockingly like Niko in that moment, face open with soft curiosity. It was that similarity that told me she was about to ask something incredibly volatile.
She opened her mouth, “You two–”
“Natasha,” Kon warned.
She sent him a tiny grin. “Uncle.”
Kon stood beside his chain, hand resting on the back. Every now and then his thumb would rub against my neck, sending chills up and down my spine.
“Is the plan to kill her?”
Silence.
For a second, I wasn’t sure who had asked the question. I looked to Roman, because it was something I expected him to say but he was looking at Dmitri. Soon, we were all looking at Dmitri.
Konstantin had once told me he always pictured Dmitri as an icy black lake with a frozen monster hidden its depths. Like something out of a fairy tale, he had explained when I had scrunched my face up. It wasn’t until this moment that I agreed with him fully.
Dmitri’s exterior was the frozen surface and the anger swirling behind his blue eyes was the monstrous serpent who fed on fishermen and lone children.
“Kill her?” Roksana said. The words in her mouth sounded awkward and out of place, like her tongue had never curled to say the word kill before.
Kon was assessing Dmitri. There was a gleam to his expression that I couldn’t quite place. “She is too dangerous to stay alive.”
Roman neared Kon, Artyom neared Dmitri. Both men preparing for a fight.
I reached back, wrapping my hand around Kon’s wrist. He linked his fingers with mine immediately.
“I’ll do it,” Dmitri said hollowly. “It’s my fault. I will pay the consequences.”
“No one expects you to do it, Dima,” Roksana murmured. “I would rather do it and save you the pain.”
Artyom didn’t like that idea. His entire face darkened.
“Let us discuss this at a later date.” Konstantin had seen the seeds of apprehension begin to sprout and pulled them out by the root with his diplomatic words. The room settled at his command, but I didn’t miss the looks and decisions and questions that passed from eye to eye.
Natalia stretched like an old cat. “Excuse me, Uncle, discussing this bitch has put me in a mood. I’m going to go and find the kiddies.” She left in a spiral of movement, calling out to her cousin.
The room slowly dispersed behind her. Danika went to say something to Roman but he pushed himself out the room, almost taking Roksana out with his determination. Soon it was just Konstantin and I, me still sitting awkwardly on his chair and him looming beside me
.
Before I could utter a word, he said, “I want Tatiana dead.”
I titled my head, letting him speak.
“I want to throw her to the dogs and fall asleep to her screams. I want to break every single bone in her body until she’s a puppet to be controlled.” He took a deep breath. “She took from me, stole from me. There is no pain I could cause her that would satisfy the hatred I have for her…and yet, I crave being able to look out my window and see her head on a stick.”
I brought his hand to my lips, kissing softly. “She will pay for what she has done to our family, Kon.”
“I will not let you risk your life.” Such honesty, such pleading. The last time he had spoken like that to me…was three years ago. In this very room. When I had said I wanted to leave, and he had begged me to stay. “There is only so much I can take, lyubimaya, and if anything befell you…”
“Do you think I love you any less?”
Kon’s nostrils flared. “No, no, of course not.”
“Do you think I am less intelligent than you? Less capable?”
“No. Never.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
He bent down, cupping my face between his palms. Our breaths mingled as our noses rubbed. I could see my reflection in the dark of his pupil, my entire expression vulnerable with love.
Is this how I looked to him? I wondered. Do I look like I am in love? Am I now a creature of love, not one of apathy?
“I trust you more than I trust myself.”
I pressed my forehead to his. “Show me.”
Konstantin took my lips between his, kissing me softly. He tasted like tea and happiness.
I could do this for eternity, I thought. I could kiss this man for a thousand years, a million years.
My body wouldn’t last for another seventy at most, but I didn’t worry about the years yet to come. In that moment, I was tucked in a moment of time, drunk off the love Kon and I shared and the feel of his lips against mine.
“Show me,” I repeated as our lips separated.
“For the rest of our lives,” he promised.
