Page 201 of The Harbinger

He nodded as we approached the table where Ruslan sat, his fine tuxedo a model of extraordinary perfection draped around his broad shoulders. Sacha greeted his father with a respectful nod, and I followed his lead, trying to keep my nerves at bay.

Ruslan regarded me with a steady gaze, his piercing blue eyes assessing me from head to toe, and a shiver ran down my spine.

“You’ve met Mia.”

A smile formed on Ruslan’s lips as he tilted his head. His sly grin had me rubbing my hand against the lace fabric that comprised most of my dress.

“Hard to forget such a beautiful face.”

His sugar-coated words crawled across my flesh like squirming maggots, their shiny exterior belying the putrid truth that lay beneath. Ruslan’s silver tongue was nothing more than a mockery, a weapon to disarm those around him and leave them vulnerable.

Sacha grunted at his father’s reply, his frustration palpable as he led us around the table to where my chair waited. With a quick tug, he pulled it out and motioned for me to sit, then took his place beside his father, effectively cutting off Ruslan’s curious gaze.

“Interesting choice of dress tonight, Mia,” Ruslan said.

I pressed my lips together, my gaze fixed on my fingers clenched in my lap. It was a feeble attempt to shield myself from the curious faces and intrusive stars that surrounded us. But in doing so, I avoided eye contact with Ruslan, which made me appear weak to anyone looking in from the outside.

Who was I trying to kid? I was utterly helpless, at the mercy of these powerful men and their whims. My muttered thanks sounded hollow, even to my own ears, and I couldn’t help but roll my lips in frustration.

One. Two. Three.

“It shows your binding to my son. Was that your wanton idea?”

My cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment as I opened my mouth to speak, but Sacha spoke up for me before I could get a word out. “It was my idea.”

“Oh?”

Another announcement from the door by one of the attendants echoed across the room, yet the eyes remained on us. I cleared my throat as their conversation continued, then took a sip of water adorned in a fancy flute.

“Scribe Nikolai Makarov,” the doorman announced.

Only then did the crowd break their hushed whispers to turn their heads his way. He walked in alone and headed straight for us.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,damy i gospoda.Dinner will be served shortly. Please take your designated seats.Obed budet podan vskore. Pozhaluysta, zanimayte svoi naznachennyye mesta.”

The throng of men and women fanned out and settled into their designated seats, arranged in long rectangular tables dressed in crisp, white tablecloths with a sleek black stripe running down the center, akin to the carpet we had just traversed. As the crowd thinned, Nikolai emerged, his steps drawing him closer to us.

His eyes crinkled slightly as he caught sight of me, his smile stretching wide like a Cheshire cat’s. He strolled around the edge of the table, his hand landing on my branded shoulder. “Mia. You look fabulous.” He moved to take his seat beside me.

Heat burned my already warmed cheeks. “Thank you—”

“Zdes‘, Nikolai,“ Ruslan said, raising his hand in the air and curling his fingers in a beckoning motion.

“It appears I am to sit on the other side.” Nikolai glanced at Sacha, and the bubble in my chest grew tighter. “Save me a dance, would you?”

I nodded and swallowed hard.There would be dancing? I can’t dance… I don’t know how.

“I feel massively underprepared for this event.”

Sacha chuckled as though my discomfort amused him. The thought took me right back to the beginning when he’d told me as much. It didn’t matter to him. He wasn’t here to assuage my feelings. I’d like to think he’d changed his mind on the matter.

A bell rang as soon as the last person took their seats, the murmurs only quieting a fraction, then silenced altogether when another bell chimed.

Ruslan stood from his chair, his back carved with muscle, visible enough to see through his tailored tux. “Spasibo za uchastiye.”

Sacha leaned over. “Thank you for attending,” he whispered, his finger caressing my hand in my lap. Ruslan went on, and Sacha translated. “As many of you know, our dear prophet has passed on, but she hasn’t been forgotten, nor has her work stopped.” Sacha cleared his throat and straightened up. “Tonight, we will announce our new prophet and our chosen sacrifice for the year.”

My heart thundered in my chest, my pulse thumping against my throat like war drums on the verge of breaking free from my arteries. No matter how many times he’d told me it wasn’t me, it didn’t stop the utter dread building inside me that begged to differ.

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