Throne of Power (Throne Duet #1) by Rina Kent

Well, the process wasn’t exactly fairytale-ish, but the result is what matters. They’ve been happily married for many years and even had little Gareth.

Me? I always thought that type of life was not meant for me.

But even with my lack of belief in such things, I never thought I would get married this way, like cattle for the best buyer.

I shake my head as I stare at my console mirror. I’m wearing a simple white dress that falls to my feet. Lace is buttoned to my neck in the back and the front and covers my arms.

My hair is gathered into a neat twist at the back of my head. My makeup is thick, as usual, but I opted for red lipstick, because the devil needs to look pretty to lure in her prey.

If it were up to me, I would’ve changed the color of the dress to black, but that would reflect badly on Granduncle and the brotherhood in general, so I smothered that urge and went with this look.

The face that greets me is calm, serene, almost like this is in fact my wedding day.

It isn’t. Today is the day I take the next step toward my goal.

There’s a knock on the door, and I clear my throat. “Come in.”

Sergei walks inside, his steps moderate as he tries not to put too much pressure on his stamina. His white hair is neat and well-styled, and he’s dressed in the tux he reserves for special occasions. I don’t know if I should be flattered or sad that he thinks this is a special occasion for me.

I stand up and kiss his knuckles. He places his other hand at the top of my hair, stroking gently before letting go. “Nikolai would’ve been proud of you.”

My throat closes at Dedushka’s name. Today is the worst occasion to mention him or how much I miss him or how much I wish he was standing by my side.

I bottle up my emotions and say, “If he were here, neither Anastasia nor I would have to be compromised.”

Sergei sighs, and the sound comes out a bit scratchy, like he finds it difficult to breathe. “It would’ve eventually happened. Neither Nikolai nor I could protect you for life.”

“But you could at least protect Anastasia. You had her at forty—doesn’t she mean anything to you?”

“She means the world to me, but she was born into the brotherhood and she will follow the brotherhood’s rules.” He pauses. “As will you.”

“Yeah, yeah, because a woman can’t go so far.” I try to keep the mockery out of my voice.

“Who said she can’t?”

“You and everyone else here. That’s what I’ve been told since I was a little girl.”

“That’s because we wanted to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection. People need protection from me.”

“They sure do, you troublemaker.” He smiles a little and a fit of coughing takes over him. It rises up in volume and intensity until he topples over. I rush to my console, snatch tissues, and place them in his hands. He coughs blood into them, the white color turning red.

My heart lodges in my throat as his fit continues.

“Ded…” I call him by the term I only ever used to address Dedushka. “Breathe, breathe…”

His coughing comes to an end, slowly but not elegantly. The tissues are soaked with blood as he waves a hand and throws them in the bin. He retrieves clean ones to wipe his mouth. When I try to help, he raises a hand, stopping me in place.

Even old and sick, Granduncle is still a Sokolov and the Pakhan. He doesn’t like anyone, including his family, to see his weakness.

“Are you okay?” I ask tentatively. “Should you see the doctor?”

“Doctors are useless.” He approaches me slowly, then places both hands on my shoulders, making me stare up at him. When he speaks, his voice is a bit breathy. “Those who say women can’t go far in this world are afraid of what the likes of you can do. That’s why you have to be careful and smart, because your enemies are more than you can count or see. Don’t look at this marriage as misery, look at it as an opportunity to stay in a position of power, even from the background. That’s the only way you can protect yourself and everyone you love.”

His words strike a deep chord inside me, not only because of his advice, but mainly because of the fact that he believes in me. He believes in what I’m capable of despite everything that’s thrown in my direction.

I know Granduncle wouldn’t dangle a ripe fruit in front of me. Not only would that put his position in danger and weaken him, it would also put me in a horrible spot. As it seems, I don’t like to find my fruit easily. I prefer to hunt for it.

“Thank you, Ded.” I kiss his knuckles again, and he taps my head as a show of acceptance before he offers me his elbow.

I tap under my ample dress, making sure my gun is well strapped to my thigh.

“Ready?” he asks.

No, but I don’t say that, because I have to be ready. Pain, whether physical or emotional, is only a phase. That’s what Mom used to tell Reina and me.

“Ready.” I place my gloved hand in the crook of his arm and let him lead me out of my room.

The wedding is taking place in an orthodox church because…well, traditions, and then the reception will be held at the main brotherhood compound where we will live.

Kyle readily agreed to live with us instead of me having to move to Igor’s, which is fishy as hell. Usually, men are so eager to mark the women as their property, and that includes having a wife in his own home.