by Bree Porter
27
Konstantin Tarkhanov
I woke up to a pair of green eyes.
“Can we go see loshadi?” Niko asked.
I lifted my head, spotting the clock. 5:09 am. To my left, Elena remained asleep, face peaceful as she dreamed. Niko had crawled onto the bed and was sitting beside me, hands in lap and face as sweet as he could make it.
“You don’t want to sleep?”
He shook his head vigorously. “Not tired.”
I glanced at Elena again. She had never been a great sleeper–it was cruel to wake her up when it took so long for her to settle down enough to attempt sleep.
“Okay, let’s go see the loshadi.”
“Yay–”
“Quiet, my boy, we don’t want to wake your mother.”
He pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh.”
“That’s right. Shh.”
“Little voices, okay?” He whispered–his whisper wasn’t very well practiced; he was speaking at normal volume but with a raspy voice.
We left before Elena stirred, even if I did have to grab some clothes and change in my study to keep Nikolai from waking her. His excitement was clear, his entire form shaking with energy as I tried to get him into his jumper. He put up a fight when we got to his shoes.
“No, I do it.”
I held up my hands in surrender, watching him fiddle with the Velcro. “You’re welcome to do it.”
He struggled, taking much longer than if I had done, but eventually he managed to make them stick. To show me, he wiggled his feet.
“Good boy. Coat next.”
Niko had a physical reaction to the idea of putting on a coat. “No coat!”
“You’ll be freezing if you don’t wear a coat,” I reasoned.
“Noo,” he whined. “No coat.”
“No coat.” I tucked it under my arm just in case. Chances are, he would need it eventually. Before the sun came up, the earth was so cold you could see our breath in the air. “Will you at least wear a beanie? Your mother will not be pleased if I bring you back and you have icicles for hair.”
Niko touched his blond locks self-consciously. “Icicles?”
“Indeed, my boy. You might look like Father Frost.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want icy hair.”
“You’ll wear a beanie then?”
He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t try and forcefully stop me as I pulled down the beanie over his head. Niko soon discovered that whenever he jumped, the pompom on the top of the hat bounced. You could always count on toddlers to find odd ways to annoy the world around them.
I wasn’t bothered as long as he was somewhat protected from the cold.
Nikolai raced ahead as we made our way to the cars. Instead of going for the vehicle, he beelined for the garden path.
“It’s a long walk,” I warned him.
“Mama says it’s a secret way.” His tone implied I was an idiot for believing anything else. “The wizard lives here.”
“The wizard? Rifat?” I laughed. Niko peered up at me. “He is not a wizard, Nikolai. He works for me.”
Niko’s brows furrowed but he soon forgot about the topic when he spotted a squirrel. He moved fast, bolting towards it. I caught him inches before disaster.
“Squirrel!” He yelled in delight.
“Leave him alone. Just watch.” I crouched down beside him, pressing a finger to my lips. “Quiet now, or else you’ll frighten him.”
Niko copied me, bending his knees, and eyeing the tree the squirrel had run up. A moment later, its bushy tail popped out–sending Niko jolting in excitement. He looked at me to make sure I had seen it, his mossy green eyes bright with wonder and delight.
Wind rustled through the trees, singing the dawn’s lullaby to the world as the sun rose over the horizon. If Nikolai was bothered by the cold, he didn’t show it–either because he couldn’t feel it or because he had his mother’s stubbornness. Both reasons were very likely.
The path crunched beneath our feet as we ventured further. Niko kept straying from the path, interesting in animals and logs to climb. I tried to keep him as close as possible–even if he insisted, his mother let him climb. Niko didn’t throw a tantrum, however, when I told him no. I imagined it was because he was used to hearing that word by now.
“Careful on that log, Niko,” I warned as he clambered over a fallen tree.
He jumped off, but as soon as my attention moved away from him, he leaped back onto it.
I shook my head.
Eventually, the forest opened, revealing the stretches of green paddocks and stable in the distance. I could see Odessa and Duchess in the small paddock, the mare grazing while the filly frolicked happily. Niko jumped in excitement.
“Can I pet now?” He clearly hadn’t forgotten my promise.
“You can. Let’s grab some carrots.”
Niko didn’t need my help. He knew where everything was–the stable hands had even taught him how to make the different feeds for the horses. To hold as many carrots as possible, he passed a handful to me.
Basil and Hilarion watched from the other paddock as Niko climbed up the fence and offered the treats to the females. Odessa came over immediately, while Duchess hesitated. She wasn’t as used to humans yet as her mother was.
After Odessa ate a few carrots, Duchess gained enough courage and danced over. She stuck close to her mother, but Niko stretched out a carrot to her. I grabbed Odessa’s head, so she didn’t rip it from his hand.
“Here you go, horsey.” His voice was soft and inviting.
The foal took the carrot between her teeth, pulling away. She trotted a few paces away from us to eat the carrot in peace.
Niko looked at me, expression as bright as the rising sun. “She’s too fast.”
“Maybe you can pet her another time. When she’s used to you.”
He climbed down off the fence, nodding. “Feed Baz?”
“I’m sure Basil would like that very much. Do you want to ride him?”
“Ride?” Niko began to bounce from foot to foot. “Yes, please.”
“Come on, then. Let me show you how to saddle him up.”
I was surprised how much Nikolai paid attention as I readied Basil. He sat still on the crate, hands in lap and eyes glued to the horse. I showed him how to tighten the girth and measure the stirrups, and even held him up at to let him test if the saddle was on properly. For a child overflowing with energy and restlessness, he was calm and watchful around the horses.
Pride clutched my heart. This was something he got from me, I thought. My son and I share a hobby, an interest.
Basil was relaxed, even if he did bloat his stomach when I tried to tighten the saddle. He was the only horse I would let Niko ride–Odessa and Hilarion were too volatile for my child to learn to ride with.
I found the best helmet we owned and helped Nikolai put it on. He fidgeted in annoyance when I tightened the straps, but I warned him that there would be no horse riding if his mother found out I let his brains get scrambled. He relented with a miserable sigh.
The Vory and dogs all seemed to step into view. Curious eyes followed Niko and me as I brought Basil into the arena, toddler in tow. I knew the thoughts that were racing through their minds, with Elena and I’s wedding set, Nikolai was officially my heir and the next Pakhan. Their protective instincts had doubled–even the dogs seemed to sense it.
I ignored them all as I tied Basil up and turned to Niko.
“What’s rule number one?” I asked.
Niko’s eyes were on Basil not me. “Hold on.”
“That’s rule number two,” I mused. “What’s rule number one?”
He shrugged.
“Listen to me. Riding horses is dangerous, okay? If I tell you to do something, you do it.”
I wasn’t used to being disobeyed–most people were too afraid to even consider it. My son didn’t share their fear.
His nose scrun
ched up. “Noo.”
“No?” I rose an eyebrow. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, so you have to listen to me to stay safe. Or else you might get hurt. I don’t want that. Do you?”
Green eyes looked to me before back to Basil. He sighed. “I listen to you.”
“Good boy.”
I lifted Nikolai up into the saddle. He was a natural, grabbing the reins and settling himself into the correct position immediately. Sunlight caught loose strands of his hair and I knew my matching locks would also be glimmering. What a pair we must’ve made, I laughed to myself. The king and the prince.
My son showed an affinity for horsemanship and it became clear just minutes after he got into the saddle that he was going to be a skilled rider when he grew up. It didn’t take long for Niko not to need me leading Basil, and though I didn’t leave his side–who would leave a three-year old unattended on a horse?–I watched with pride as he picked up every lesson I taught him.
Basil was naturally slow and lazy, but he did start a slow trot at my urging. Niko’s laughter rose into the air like a bird soaring towards the sky.
“It will be breakfast soon,” I said. “Do you want to head back to the house?”
Niko looked horrified. “No!”
I couldn’t help my laugh. “Your mother will miss us.”
“No, she won’t.” He shook his head vigorously. Basil knickered. “Can we stay?”
“What do you say?”
“Can we stay pleaseeee, Dad?”
My laughter stopped abruptly.
Nikolai didn’t notice my sudden shock. He just peered at me with big green eyes, expression pleading. “Pleaseeee, Dad.”
Dad. A single word, a title I had never used.
I had imagined my son countless of times.
When I thought of my empire, I built my son in my mind, a king to replace me. One who would be afraid to kill me.
I hadn't considered his youthful years, how he would come into the world defenceless and soft. I had not considered that he might have Elena's eyes or my hair colour. How when he looked at me, only devotion and love shone through, not a single cunning thought to be found.
It was in this moment I felt the past few weeks boil down to their raw ingredients.
I was a father. I had a son.
I had someone who would need me and look to me for guidance, someone who relied on my advice and expertise. I was his teacher, guide and protector.
My relationship with my father had never been positive. The only thing I ever owed to that man was my genes. How would I be as a father when the one I had had never been anything but cruel? Was my niece right when she said Nikolai would be lucky to have me? Had those years of taking care of Danika and Roman prepared me enough?
I was not an anxious man; I was not one to stress and become irrational with emotion. It was what made me such a good Pakhan; I was a decision-maker, a leader and king. There was no room in my psyche for nervousness and hesitation.
Yet in this moment, for the first time in my life, I felt a jolt of fear.
Would I ruin Nikolai’s life? Would he be waiting for the moment to kill me?
Should I have left him and Elena alone?
It was his voice that cut my thoughts short. “Five more minutes?”
“Take as long as you want,” I said.
His grin was brighter than the sun.
I watched from the middle of the arena as he led Basil in circles. Each loop, Niko grew more and more confident, and though I would’ve thought he would grow bored from the repetitiveness, he showed no signs of stopping.
It was well-past breakfast when Elena arrived at the mouth of the woods. In her hand, she carried two plates. From the sharpening of the dogs’ ears, it was clear she had brought breakfast to us.
“Hi Mama!” Niko called, waving.
“Both hands on the reins,” I reminded him.
He quickly corrected himself.
Elena looked besotted with the toddler. “You look like a natural, baby. Are you nearly done? I brought your breakfast.”
“No, not done,” he said quickly.
I approached her. “He is going to be a superb rider.”
“You sound awfully proud.”
“I am. I’ve never seen anyone pick up horse-riding as fast as Niko has.” I kept eyes on him as I leaned against the fence. Elena passed me my plate. “He’s too young to ride Hilarion but a few more months and he’ll be able to ride Odessa.”
She arched a single eyebrow. “Is that so?”
I caught her tone. “With your blessing, of course.”
“I know nothing about horse-riding,” she mused. “He must get this from you. This and that hair of his.”
“Maybe the others will be brunettes.”
Her cheeks crinkled as she smiled. “I thought he had red hair when he was an infant, but it was just the cradle-cap.”
That made me chuckle. I could picture younger Elena peering over infant Niko, concerned about the hair sprouting from his little scalp. “I don’t think we’ll have any gingers.”
The plate Elena had made up for me was covered in food. It was obvious she had made the plates before breakfast–if she had made them after, it would be an array of all the ugly and burnt foods that no one touched and always ended up in the dogs’ bowls.
Nikolai had caught sight of the food, his attention narrowing.
“How about we give Basil a break and you can eat your breakfast?”
His belly rumbled, sending Niko into a spiral of giggles. “Another ride after?”
“If you’re feeling up to it, of course.”
We ate breakfast stretched out over the grass, bathing in the sun and morning breeze. Niko soon discovered he could lure the large Caucasian Shepherds closer with bits off his plate, even if his mother and I warned him against it.
“The dogs have plenty of food,” I told him. “You don’t need to share yours.”
Niko crouched in place, sucking on a piece of melon. The juice ran over his fingers and shirt. “Okay, Dad.”
Elena froze in place.
I grabbed her hand and sent her a soft smile. She animated back to life, sending me a heart stopping grin.
Niko spotted something in the distance and darted off.
“Dad?” Elena said when he was gone. “When did that happen?”
“This morning.”
Her eyes danced over my face, seeing more than I wanted to show. “You look worried.” She tilted her head to the side. “Why?”
“What makes you think I’m worried?”
She pressed her fingers to my forehead, tracing the signs of aging. “I can see it.”
I grabbed her wrist, pressing my lips to her hand. “I don’t want to be a terrible father,” I said honestly. “My father was not a good man and I killed him with my bare hands to punish him for it.”
“Nikolai’s hands are too small to hurt you.”
I sent her a loaded look.
Elena’s lips quirked and she pressed her nose to mine. I leaned into her touch. “Don’t worry, Kon. Our fathers cared only for themselves and their own pleasures. Since the moment you met Nikolai, you have been dedicated to his happiness and comfort.” Her gaze was deep and alluring, trapping me in her orbit. “I wouldn’t have let you anywhere near him if I thought you were going to be a threat to his growth.”
I didn’t doubt that for a second. Elena was fiercely protective of Nikolai’s well-being, and though she could be a bit lax when it came to stunts and treating the world like a jungle gym, she wouldn’t let any harm come to her son. No matter what she had to do.
Niko came running back over, daisy clutched in palm. “For you, Mama.”
“For me?” She made a show of smelling the flower. “It’s gorgeous. Thank you, baby. Kiss?”
He stuck his cheek out for her, and she showered him with kisses.
I spent the day with Elena and my son. We brushed
the horses and Niko helped the stable hands make up their feeds. We picked flowers and sunbathed in the mellow sunlight, before heading back to the house for lunch. My heart was full as I tended to my future wife and son, making them laugh and relax.
The dark cloud of Tatiana casted shadows over our happiness but no one dared mentioned her name. Even that night, when Elena and I were alone in the dark, entangled beneath the sheets, we avoided the topic, less her name ruin the entire day.
Elena’s plan sat in the back of my mind. I was opposed to it, against Elena putting herself in harm’s way. But if I looked past my instincts, rationally, I knew this was one of the better plans we had. Tatiana had outsmarted us at every corner–the only person who had a history of catching her lies was Elena.
During the night, I pressed my lips to Elena’s head, breathing deeply. She wasn’t asleep yet, but she didn’t move when I ran my fingers down her arm, tracing the words that curled over the olive skin.
Mud, garden, shielded.
Between her thumb and forefinger, the word family stood out. She had traced over it a few times in different coloured pens. I traced the loops and lines until the movement was subconscious.
Plans and reality held my mind captive. I wanted Tatiana dead but how was I going to wrap my hands around her neck when she had disappeared with the wind? In the three years since she had left, she hadn’t made a peep–it wasn’t until Elena returned to me, that she too, had made herself known once more.
“Go to sleep, Kon,” Elena whispered, interrupting my thoughts. “Think about her tomorrow.”
I obeyed.
28
Konstantin Tarkhanov
Nikolai made a face, tongue out and nose scrunched up.
“Is it gross?”
My son had decided the shaving cream looked enough like cotton candy to try and eat it. I had caught him just as he had stuck the finger in his mouth, face instantly warping as the taste overwhelmed his senses.
He was sitting on the bathroom bench and watching me shave. I had given him a blunt razor to copy me with but his stomach had spoken louder and he had decided to try and eat the white foam.
“Have some water,” I coaxed when he started spitting. I cupped my hands under the sink and brought it to his mouth. He gulped it quickly, still making faces.