The ballroom was aglow with light and laughter for the first time since it all began. A string quartet played a jaunty tune that traveled towards the head table like a spring breeze. It was the grisha's presence that made the difference. There was the sweet taste of hope on their tongues.

Olenna's cheeks ached from smiling. Polite greetings and empty compliments flew in dizzying circles through her mind. She recognized a handful of the faces from previous occasions and inquired about how their families or businesses were faring, not that she could remember anything beyond that. She praised those for their exquisite taste in keftas or gowns and poured sugar syrup over every interaction. She would look pretty and make their subjects feel more special than they were. That was her duty to her country.

Despite it all, Olenna felt warmth bloom inside her chest. Goodness wove through the night's events. Olenna smiled from her spot at the head table, watching as a young Grisha girl looked close to tears of joy as a bowl of steaming borscht was set before her. How long had it been since the girl had a meal she didn't steal or beg for? It couldn't have been easy for the Grisha displaced in the conflict to survive. They were home and safe now, and Alina, with the help of Nikolai and Olenna, would ensure they stayed that way.

Olenna spotted a group of five Grisha with their heads dipped low in conversation. The mood of the older Grisha was less exultant and warier. They weren't so easy to trust. She couldn't blame them. She, too, was on edge with every new player to join the board. Olenna recognized the striking beauty of Zoya Nazyalensky among them. The blue and silver kefta of a squaller, hair braided back and tied with a simple satin blue ribbon. She'd easily slipped back into the role of a leader to the other Grisha. They looked up to her and respected her opinions.

To Olenna's astonishment, it had been Zoya who was the loudest voice in support of Alina's leadership. Last Olenna checked the squaller was vehement against Alina being in the Second Army at all. But it seemed The Darkling's betrayal had changed even Zoya's allegiances. With Zoya backing Alina's position as General, the Grisha had fallen back into their old places, willing to fight for the chance at a better Ravka.

Nikolai's friends, Tamar and Tolya, had slipped into the group effortlessly and could be seen chatting with Nadia and her little brother, Adrik. It seemed they had everyone charmed, everyone except for the princess. Olenna wasn't sure what to think of her brother's entourage. Were they from his privateering or from something else he failed to mention? She was suspicious, to say the least. Who knew who they were truly loyal to? In a time of turmoil like this, any unknown was more than Olenna was comfortable with.

The man, Tolya, must have sensed her gaze on him, for his eyes scanned the room. A jolt went up her spine when he found her. Her pulse quickened to a gallop. Tolya's expression was one she couldn't quite decipher. A crease formed between his brows, but there was no blatant anger or suspicion. Then his lips quirked into a smile, and he lifted a massive hand in a wave.

Olenna 's skin grew hot. She flicked her eyes down to her bowl. He was mocking her now. Hyperaware of the fabric of her dress on her skin, her hands felt out of place no matter how she tried to arrange them.

When she managed to look up, he had turned away. He was laughing with Tamar. Probably about the little princess who he'd caught staring. Had Nikolai ever mentioned her to them? Did they know how little she'd seen of the world, how little she knew of life beyond the palace walls? She'd never even crossed the border of her country. Humiliation, that was what this was. An unfamiliar feeling reared its head in the company of those who knew just how sheltered she was. Just how useless.

Vasily's haughty voice pulled Olenna's attention away from the twins. "Why must you always play the diplomat, Nikolai?" The crown prince took a draught from his glass, surveying the ballroom with tables full of chatting guests. One particular table made Vasily's lips curl into a snarl. "Grisha dining beside true Ravkan soldiers is a bit much for all our stomachs."

Alina leaned forward and glared up the table at Vasily. "We are all Ravkan here." Alina sat at the very end of the table. The king at the center was flaked on the left by his advisors and the right by his wife and progeny in descending order of importance. The queen beside him, Vasily - the crown prince, Nikolai - the spare, and Olenna - the beautiful bargaining chip. Alina capped off the last seat like an afterthought. Olenna wouldn't be surprised if her father initially had the Sun Summoner sitting amongst the other Grisha and soldiers as a commoner.

"It doesn't need to be us versus them," Nikolai said, not unkindly. Vasily only sneered down his hooked nose.

Olenna surveyed the tables aloofly as she spoke, "Besides, 'Sily if your presence hasn't made me vomit across the table, I don't think anything will." Olenna's lips twitched in satisfaction at her brother's answering scowl.

"Lena!" Tatiana gasped, lifting a hand to her heart. She was only loud enough for her family and Alina to have heard. "Bite your tongue."

Her mother's orders weren't very effective. Olenna responded with a sickly sweet smile. "Apologies, Mother. It's a reflex."

Vasily draped one arm over the back of his chair, slouching like a sack of grain. God forbid Olenna had even a hair out of place, but Vasily could run nude through the fountains and still be rewarded with a cake. He chuckled over the rim of his glass. "If he didn't want it to be us versus them, Kirigan should've thought of that before he tried to murder my father and stage a coup. That said, absent their Darkling, the Grisha are rather easy to manage." Vasily jutted his chin toward the table of chatting Grisha, happy and reunited for the first time since that fateful night.

Alina turned her torso beside Olenna, so now she faced Vasily three seats over. "By 'manage,' do you mean, "execute," Moi Tsarevich?"

Vasily didn't bother to lean forward to look at Alina. "That fate is reserved for traitors to the Crown, Miss Starkov." Her name rolled off his tongue like something rancid. Olenna clenched her teeth. It was a thinly veiled threat. Her fingers curled into a fist atop the table.

Alina bolstered herself up in her seat and spoke again. "If the Second Army requires a leader loyal to the Crown to assure their fealty, then I will lead them." Alina's expression was earnest as ever.

Vasily laughed, finally caring enough to straighten in his seat and meet Alina's gaze. "Why should I believe you have any loyalty to my family? He raised both brows in a challenge.

Olenna loathed to admit it, but he had a point. Why would Alina swear fealty to the Lantsov line when she carried the power of a saint within her? Why would she bow to her lessers in every way? Olenna knew that treason of such kind was not in Alina's nature, but her word was worth about the same as a half Vlachka to her father.

Nikolai cleared his throat and laid his napkin atop the table. In one graceful motion, he reached for his glass and pushed back his chair to stand. Olenna tilted her chin up in surprise. He towered over her like a great statue of a war hero. The war medals dangling from his lapel glinted in the warm light of the chandeliers. He was every bit the prince in shining armor. Olenna whispered through her false smile.

"What are you doing?" It was the first words she'd spoken to him since their argument. Olenna's face scrunched before she corrected her expression to appear at ease. Nikolai lifted his glass and clinked gently against the side with his silverware until the rumble of conversation quieted. The ballroom of guests directed their attention to the prince of the hour. Nikolai looked over, past Olenna, to Alina. The Sun Summoner nodded minutely, and Olenna sensed a silent conversation she wasn't privy to. Alina knew what was happening.

"Today marks the start of a new era of cooperation between Lantsovs and the Grisha." Nikolai scanned the rows of Ravkan's and their allies, making it seem as if he was locking eyes with every one of them. "I'm delighted to announce my engagement to Alina Starkov, the Sun Summoner and new leader of the Second Army. Together, we will build a better future for Ravka." Nikolai looked over at Alina with a fond smile. "To Ravka!" He cried, lifting his glass high in celebration. The ballroom roared to life with an answering call.

"To Ravka!"

Olenna sat frozen. What in Saints' name was going on? Nikolai, engaged? To Alina? Her Nikolai? It was becoming clear that he hadn't been her Nikolai for quite some time. But all she needed was a pair of semi-working eyes to see that this was no love match. Olenna knew a political alliance when she saw one. After all, she'd been groomed for it her entire life. Olenna's chest and cheeks grew hot. She struggled to swallow the stone lodged in her throat. When she looked at Alina, she saw it. The gleaming emerald resting on her ring finger. How had she overlooked it? That ring was for the person Nikolai loved, not a political chess piece.

Vasily sputtered, looking to the King and Queen as if to ask for their interference. His composure was long gone. Alina leaned across Olenna to whisper to Nikolai. "That was a bit much."

Nikolai's playful smirk stoked the flames building in Olenna's lungs. "Understatement is overrated."

He winked at his betrothed, not even sparing his sister a glance. Olenna's eyes sought the one person in the crowd who could confirm what she already knew. Mal Oretsev stared at his bowl of uneaten borscht as if he'd just heard the gravest news imaginable. Alina had also noticed, and her smile disappeared.

With the abrupt scrape of a chair, Vasily shot up from his seat and threw his napkin onto the table. Tatiana tried in vain to call him back to the table, but the crown prince had already absconded from the ballroom. The news wouldn't go over well with any of their family members.

A stone formed in Olenna's throat. Nikolai hadn't learned a thing from their argument, Olenna realized. Secrecy would be commonplace in their new relationship. Gone were the days of camaraderie and blood pacts, replaced with cordial conversation and empty promises. This was Nikolai's future, and he hadn't even mentioned it to her. Instead, it was sprung on her at the same time he announced it to all of Ravka. Olenna didn't recognize this new man sitting beside her. She was humiliated, and she was furious.

Olenna grit her teeth and lifted her goblet. "To the lovely couple."

Nikolai blinked as if only now remembering she existed. His brows knit together, and his lips parted. "Olenna, I--" He began, but Olenna wasn't in the mood to hear another shallow attempt at apology.

"I hope you're very happy together," Olenna bit out through a venomous smile. She tipped her glass back and downed the last of her kvas. She savored the burn as it dragged along her throat and eviscerated the lump she'd struggled to swallow. Nikolai didn't get a chance to say any more before their mother interrupted.

"Are you sure about this, Sobachka? I understand the political alignment, but is this best for your long-term positioning?" The queen glanced at Alina and frowned. Olenna thanked the saints that at least her mother knew to maintain composure. Unlike Vasily, who had always been prone to tantrums. Their father, it seems, had yet to process the announcement, but when he did, it would be a storm unlike any other.

"This is what's best for me and Ravka," Nikolai nodded. "Madraya. Your other son is working hard to send this country to civil war. I aim to stand in his way." as if to hammer in his point, Nikolai glanced from his mother's striking blue eyes to the empty chair beside her.

Tatiana hummed a sound of acknowledgment. "I'd better plan some sort of official celebration, then.

Nikolai shook his head. "Now is not the time for parties. Such an affair risks exposure. We're already at risk with tonight's celebration. Kirigan's threat is unyielding."

"You are a Lantsov heir. If we don't commemorate it, it'll look like we have something to hide." Of course, their mother cared more about appearances than the safety of their people. "I'll keep it small, extended family only." Tatiana looked at Alina with the faintest grimace. "I'll have my seamstress run you up something appropriate. You too, son." Then her eyes landed on Olenna. "And you, Darling, this party will be the perfect opportunity to solidify a marriage alliance. I want as radiant as the betrothed and twice as amenable. Understood?"

"Of course, Mother." Olenna washed down her objections with her kvas.

An ashen-skinned man who must've been nearing fifty approached the high table. His forehead nearly touched the floor as he dipped into a deep bow. Salt and pepper hair was tied in a sleek bun at the base of his neck. The gaudy wine and gold weave of his robes was a dead giveaway that he wasn't quite like the other guests. New money spoke louder than old.

"Lord Rastov!"  Tatiana grinned, "How wonderful it is to see you again."

Of course, this was the man her mother had told her so much about. Lord Rastov was a giant in the Zemini firearm trade. He could supply half of Ravka with his goods and was very well on his way to doing so. Tatiana was overflowing with praise for the man. There was a suggestion - no, a command within her mother's description of him. He was useful. A resource to be mined, like coal or oil, and Olenna was to do it. Olenna sat up straighter in her chair, muscles tensing in anticipation.

None of the other nobles in attendance that night had shown such promise to Tatiana as Lord Rostov. Olenna found she was both thankful and uneasy about that. Less men to wine and dine was always a good thing where she was concerned, but the excitement in her mother's tone describing this particular man didn't sit well with Olenna. She could only avoid the inevitable for so long before her mother put her foot down. A marriage to a man with such wealth and connections could change the tides of the war in their favor. But condemn Olenna in exchange.

Lord Rostov grinned, pleased with the queen's response. "Ah, but not as wonderful as it is to be in your presence once more, your radiance. I was overcome with the need to thank the woman responsible for tonight's event. There is not a single detail to enhance. You have outdone yourself. I rarely have the honor of attending such an exemplary event."

"No, I'd suppose not." Vasily chuckled under his breath. Rostov either didn't hear or ignored the subtle jab. Tattiana must've pinched her son beneath the table because he jumped up like he'd sat on a sewing needle. The Queen didn't falter.

"You are too kind, my lord. We have many servants to do the work for us, of course. I cannot take the credit for anything but the planning." Olenna almost rolled her eyes. Tatiana would never touch a single detail beyond the guest list. Her words sounded humble, but she was overstating her involvement.

Lord Rostov shook his head dismissively. "Ah, but without your eye for beauty, your grace, none of this would be possible." Olenna watched her mother preen like a peacock at Rostov's compliments. Flattery would get you everywhere with The Queen. Rostov gave a respectful tip of his head and turned to face Nikolai next. "Moi Tsarovitch, may I be among the first to congratulate the happy couple. May your union be prosperous and fruitful." He didn't even glance at Alina, the second half of the couple in question. Nikolai dipped his chin in acknowledgment.

"Thank you, my lord. I am glad you were able to attend tonight." Nikolai smiled. There was a moment of silence, where neither said a word. Olenna felt Rostov assessing her from the corner of his eye. Olenna felt very exposed. Tatiana interrupted the pause by waving a hand towards her daughter.

"Lord Rostov, Might I introduce you to my daughter, Princess Olenna?" Rostov blinked theatrically, following The Queen's direction to where Olenna sat. He made a great show of looking startled as if he hadn't been sizing her up since the moment he arrived.

Rostov's grin was roguish and ill-suited to his aged face. "Moi Tsarevna."

Olenna mustered a charming smile and batted her lashes a few times. She could almost feel her mother breathing down her neck. Olenna was to impress this man at all costs. "Lord Rostov. It's a pleasure to put a face to the name."

"May I say how radiant you look in this light, Moi Tsaritsa? You're even lovelier than the rumors claim. Sankta Lizabeta's fabled beauty pales in comparison to your magnificence."

Laying it on a bit thick, wasn't he? Nikolai's smile had melted into something closer to a grimace. It took an effort to keep her own from doing the same.

"You flatter me, My Lord." Olenna forced as much charm and enthusiasm into her response as possible. It still sounded flat. Lord Rostov didn't seem to notice. He straightened, puffing out his chest a bit.

"May I be so forward as to request the honor of your first dance of the night?" Lord Rostov stared into her eyes with unnerving precision. When was the last time this man blinked? He looked more like a beady-eyed vulture honing in on its next meal than a charming suitor. Olenna shifted in her seat and spoke with kind conviction.

"Unfortunately, I must decline-"

"She would be delighted!" Queen Tatiana's voice cut through Olenna's denial cheerfully, but there was an underlying warning. Olenna would dance with this man whether she wanted to or not. Lord Rostov beamed like a child receiving a piece of candy. Olenna's fist clenched in her skirt. She forced a bright grin and breathed deeply.

"Indeed, I would love to." Olenna pressed the burning irritation and dread into her chest and pushed back her chair. She ignored Nikolai's attempts to catch her eye as she stood. Her heels tapped against the marble as she passed each of her family. It felt like a walk to the gallows.

A slender hand clamped around her wrist, and Olenna met her mother's icy blue eyes. Facing away from Lord Rostov, her mother's expression was far less amenable.

"Remember your place, Olenna." Her mother's whisper was low and sharp. It was a command, not a reminder. Olenna, aware of the prying eyes at every corner, smiled as if she were sharing sweet words with her caring mother.

The frigidity in her tone could've frozen the lake of the little palace in one breath. "How could I ever forget?" She pulled her wrist from her mother's grasp with more force than necessary and rounded the table.

Lord Rostov presented a hand, and she took it without hesitation despite the urge to turn in the other direction. The hem of her dress hissed across the floor as he led her onto the dance floor. There were only a few other dancers, but once the princess joined, all eyes turned to the dance commencing. The string quartet paused, whispering amongst themselves as Olenna placed her other hand on Lord Rostov's shoulder. Then the Music returned, beginning a soft waltz that Olenna recognized from countless hours of dance and pianoforte lessons.

Rostov's eyes darted around her face like a pig rooting for truffles, searching for something Olenna couldn't identify. Olenna tried her best not to squirm beneath his intimate grip on her waist. It was easier said than done when he began rubbing circles with his thumb into her hip, making her skin crawl. More dancers joined in, twirling across the marble in time with the lilting music.

"My mother tells me your ships carry firearms from Novyi Zem." Olenna was determined to court this man, even if it was the last thing she wanted. "Do you visit often? I've never been myself, but I've always been fascinated by the craftsmanship of their weapons. Our fabricators have yet to figure out the key to their success." Rostov's brows lifted, his lips curling in a smirk.

"I'm impressed. Not many of the fairer sex take such interest in the trade." He tutted his tongue and shook his head. "But you don't want to hear about guns, my dear. If you ever find yourself in Zemmini territory, it's the lace you'll be pining after. Ladies like yourself trade an arm and a leg for their creations." Of course, he would assume she was as dull as the blades hung above the fireplace. A spark of heat kicked up in her chest. Had he even listened to her question?

"I'm sure it's beautiful." Olenna stiffened as his bare hand crept up her side to rest atop her ribcage. "The ladies of the court would likely do the same. You'll excuse me if I don't take your word for it. I've had many men promise me beautiful things. Few have delivered." Her tone carried the slightest edge to it. If he was smart, he'd heed her silent warning.

"I'll take that as a challenge." He was not. "When I next travel I'll have some lace brought back for you. I'd take great pleasure in seeing you wear it." Rostov's eyes raked down her body with an appreciative hum from his throat. His gaze lingered a little too long on her exposed chest. Her skin wanted to get up and crawl away. Olenna's smile was as tight as the ties on her corset.

"Let's not beat around the bush any longer."

"You'll have to tell me which bush you speak of, my Lord."  I have spoken with your honorable mother, The Queen, and we believe you would do very well as my wife." Was it the twirling dance that made Olenna feel so ill? Lord Rostov hardly stopped for breath before plowing on. "My subjects would bask in your beauty, Moi Tsaritsa. With you seated by my side, an angel supporting and lifting her illustrious husband, I would be worshiped.

Olenna's jaw clenched. "Is that your goal, my Lord? To be worshiped? His eyes glistened in the light. It almost reminded Olenna of the thousand-mile stare the Pilgrims had perfected. This man was greedy for power. She would be but a notch in his belt.

Rostov chuckled dismissively, and Olenna's chest flared with fury. "You need not worry yourself with politics."

"As a member of the royal family, would it not be incumbent upon me to be involved in my country's affairs?" There was no holding back her animosity. The man was as dense as the fold if he hadn't registered his misstep by now.

"Of course, my darling, I didn't mean to imply that you should not be involved in your country's well-being." His tone was patronizing at best. Olenna wanted to stomp on his foot with her heel. She glanced towards the head table, where her mother watched with the intensity of a cat with a mouse. Her expectations weighed heavy on Olenna's shoulders. It was what kept her locked in the embrace of this infuriating man. "I hope that my future wife will involve herself in charity.

"Indeed. Do you find time for charity yourself? Such a wealthy man surely has enough to share with the less fortunate."

"No, of course not. Charity is best suited to the more nurturing sex. My mother always instilled the importance of it in my three sisters. Every lady must find time to engage in some form of charity. Their actions are a direct reflection of their husband. I find it wonderful entertainment for them while their husbands are hard at work." Olenna's lips tensed, eyebrow twitching.

"Entertainment?" Her voice was higher than it should've been. She bit the inside of her cheek, the pain keeping her mind tethered to the line she couldn't afford to cross.

"It can be rather difficult for women to be without their husbands. Women are happiest when in the role of caregiver, and until the first son is born, their lives lack meaning and fulfillment with marriage alone. They always crave more." He looked at her as if she would undoubtedly know what he meant. Of course, she knew, and she'd never wanted to throttle someone more.

Olenna fought to keep her tone pleasant. "And if you were to have a daughter? Would she not be enough for you?"

"A daughter cannot carry on the Rostov name or business. I wouldn't expect you to think in such legal terms, dear. In the heart of a mother, children are all equal. The Rostov line is rich with strong boys. Judging by your mother's luck in bearing two princes, your womb will be just as fruitful with the help of my seed."

Olenna's stomach roiled. Her muscles tensed to prevent her instincts from pulling her away from his touch. "Lord Rostov, it seems you are under the impression that this union is carved in stone. I remind you that we have only just been introduced." There was an edge to her tone, no matter how hard she tried to rein it in.

"Do not doubt your allure Moi Tsarevna! From the moment I laid eyes upon you, I knew I would do anything to have you. There is no doubt in my mind that you will make the perfect wife and mother to our sons." Rostov leaned in close, his lips brushing her cheek. The muscles in her neck strained against his touch. She swallowed hard, the taste of copper on her tongue.

His breath ghosted across her skin when he spoke. "Imagine, three sons with your eyes. Crystal blue as Fierdan waters." His hand on her hip trailed up her back to curl a strand of her hair around his finger. "Hair like pure gold..." Rostov flinched.

"May I have this next dance, Princess?" A hand had clamped down on Lord Rostov's shoulder. He pulled away from her as he searched for the source. Tolya stared intently into her eyes, ignoring the man gripping Olenna like a bar of gold. Rostov's expression soured. He had to tilt his head upwards to take in all of Tolya's figure. Rostov's fury wavered as he honed in on the massive man above him. "The Princess is already dancing with me."

Olenna could tell by the bunching of Rostov's jacket that Tolya's grip was firmer than necessary. Thank the Saints for this boulder of a man. No matter what she thought of Tolya and her brother right now, Olenna couldn't have been more relieved. Rostov looked ready to argue with a man twice his size. Olenna put on her most charming smile and laid a delicate hand on the older man's bicep.

"Lord Rastov," She gave him her undivided attention, ignoring Tolya to appease the older man's ego. "It would be rude of me to be seen dancing with only one man this evening, even if I did enjoy your company immensely." A blatant lie, but Olenna learned to smile through the scent of horse shit. Rostov hesitated, eyes flicking between her and the newcomer with furrowed brows. He opened his mouth, ready to argue, then mercifully shut it again. His smile returned as if nothing had happened, and he guided Olenna's hand to his lips.

His hot breath fanned over her skin, drawing bile up her throat. "Very well. We must finish our conversation later, then." The wink he sent her was far from decent. His lips were wet and rough against the back of her hand. When he released her, it was as if the air returned to her lungs, and the sky lifted from her shoulders.

When Rostov turned his back, she wiped the offending hand on the back of her skirt. Tolya rumbled a low laugh, stepping forward to take the Lord's place. Her head reached just under his shoulders, and she had to crane her neck to meet his eye.

"You have impeccable timing."

Tolya chuckled, a low rumbling thing that Olenna found rather charming. He held out a hand to her, and she appraised it before accepting. Tolya's grip was feather-light on her waist. His hand was twice the size of hers, rough and calloused. But his touch was warm, enveloping her hand like a winter glove.

He pressed into her side, silently guiding her into the next dance. She followed his lead, twirling beneath his arm and coming back to lean against his chest. "Your heart was galloping like a horse. I thought you might strangle him if I didn't intervene." Tolya's lips were quirked teasingly, his eyes filled with mirth.

Olenna huffed a tired laugh. "I was certainly entertaining the thought." Olenna blinked. Her heart? She cocked her head in question. "You're a heartrender?"

Tolya nodded, swaying to the left as Olenna did the opposite while their upper bodies remained together. "By Ravkan standards, yes." 

Olenna remembered that the Zemini Grisha had different standards and names for their talents. There were no rankings or divisions. The Zemini weren't soldiers from childhood like in Ravka. Nikolai must've found himself in Novyi Zem, then. Not a word of it was in his letters.

Olenna kept eye contact with Tolya even as her leg twirled around his, and she dipped back. "Well, thank you for rescuing me from that conversation." His palm supported her back as her neck stretched with the arch of her back, then pulled her into his embrace.

Olenna's voice was deceivingly aloof when she asked, "You aren't a friend of Nikolai's from University, so I gather you are involved in his less legal activities?" She tried her best to sound mildly interested, not like she hung on every word for any crumb of information he could give her. Tolya surprisingly looked a little bashful.

"He is licensed, but yes. We joined the crew when they stopped in Weddle almost two years ago."

Olenna was suddenly a bit irritated with the man before her. Tolya knew more about her brother than she did. Weddle, so she was correct about Tolya being in Novyi Zem. But there was so much about him and his Tamar that didn't match that. They were Shu, though that meant nothing of where they were raised. Then, there was the ease with which Tolya glided across the dancefloor with a princess in his arms.

"How did a Privateer learn to dance Sudarushka?" Olenna raised both brows as he mirrored her graceful movements.

His smirk was laced with mischief. "I was not always a privateer, your highness." Olenna waited for him to elaborate, but Tolya, she was learning, was a man of few words. That wasn't at all helpful when rooting around for information. This was an artful maneuver she was used to at court. Who knew a Privateer could keep secrets with the best of them? She would have to dig deeper, then.

"Your accent sounds Ravkan?" Olenna looked him up and down, scanning every detail and mannerism for hints.

Tolya answered as they circled each other, forearms pressed together to make a line. "My mother was Grisha. We were raised both Ravkan and Shu."

It made sense that he was half-Shu, like Alina. He possessed many Shu features, dark almond eyes, and black onyx hair. But his nose was too prominent to be anything but Ravkan ancestry.

Olenna smiled, "In that case, welcome home." Tolya returned the gesture with a tilt of his lips. He shook his head.

"Thank you, your highness. But our home is not a place." As if to punctuate his statement, he looked to where Tamar swayed across the dance floor with a laughing Nadia in her arms. Olenna recognized the fondness in his eyes, the almost visible warmth spreading through him as he locked eyes with his twin.

"You must be a true friend to my brother if you've followed him into our war-torn corner of the world." Olenna pulled Tolya's attention back to her as he lifted his arm, and she passed beneath the bridge it formed. "He'd have us believe he convinced you with his charm alone. But I know that's not true." When she settled back into their original position, Tolya's expression had sobered slightly.

"He would do the same for us without ask." Tolya sounded so sure of that. Not a hint of hesitation to be found. Olenna wished she shared the same conviction.

Her whisper was almost inaudible above the surge of the orchestral. "I used to think the same." Olenna let the music wash over her like the water of the little palace lake in the summer. She willed it to wash away the aching pain in her chest, to wash away the expectations looming on the horizon. She wanted Nikolai. She needed her brother.

Tolya's voice was gentle as he cut through her thoughts. "I will not defend his choices when it comes to his relationship with you." Tolya frowned, looking into Olenna's eyes with aching sympathy.

"You will not?"Her brows rose in surprise. Certainly, this man who'd followed Nikolai across the sea to a country in shambles would take his side in an argument. Tolya only met her that morning. It was a passive stance for a man who lived as a glorified pirate.           

"No, but I will vouch for the fact that he loves you more than any other." Olenna couldn't keep her confusion from reflecting on her face. How much did Tolya know about her? What did he know about her and Nikolai's past? Did he know about Dominik? His words fell upon her skin like the first snow of winter. "I draw the line in fresh white powder, for the darker lies, the deep purple ones bruise and scar--

"-- And may never fade." Olenna completed, astonishment lacing the final line of a familiar poem. It appeared Tolya was equally surprised by her knowledge.

The music closed with a final crescendo, and the dancers stepped back to bow and curtsey at their partners, one hand still joined between them. Tolya was smiling again, a single dimple appearing on his left cheek. With an expression like this, he was far less intimidating.

"I hope to speak with you again soon, Princess."

"As do I." Olenna smiled, a real one, and she meant it. Somehow, Tolya had surprised her. Strange company her brother kept. Though, that was nothing new. Nikolai loved the unexpected.

Tolya lifted their joined hands and dipped his chin to kiss her farewell. He paused before his lips could touch her skin, then straightened, seeming to decide against it. He released her fingers with ease, watching her fingers as she folded them together before her hips.

"Enjoy the evening, Tolya." He bowed to her one last time before weaving into the crowd of onlookers. Why had he hesitated? He'd seen her reaction to Lord Rostov's affections, but Tolya must know he was not in the same boat as that infuriating leech.

What was most concerning to her was the sinking of her heart when he hadn't.

NOTE

I'm alive y'all I swear! This past year has been quite the windy road so it's been hard to stay active. However this chapter is a whole 6k words so I hope you enjoyed! What do we think of the first real convo between Olenna and Tolya???