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“You have no voice in this room,” Semyon interrupted him. “You gave that up ten years ago.”
“No, father,” Zeke said, his heart walling itself off from Semyon’s disapproval, a self-defense mechanism he had perfected over the years. “I didn’t give anything up by choosing to follow my convictions. What you’re asking me to do, that’s a sacrifice. That’s me leaving everything behind for you.”
“For me? For the city, Mikhail.” Zeke clenched his jaws together at the use of his given name. “For the people who will suffer if we can’t come to an arrangement. A bonding ceremony will braid our households together. Your firstborn will have both Kumarin and Aslanov blood. The strength of such a tie is unbreakable, you know that. It’s either your son or your sister’s that will symbolize an eternal union between our two great families.”
“You won’t hand your only daughter over to Pietr Aslanov,” Zeke challenged.
His father observed him intently, sudden amusement in his eyes that never boded well. Either Semyon was appreciating his son’s obstinacy or considering ways to beat it out of him. Finally, he flicked his wrist, making Red walk up to the door. A moment later, Alina Kumarinova was pulled through the doorway, Zeke staring at his younger sister.
He hadn’t seen her in a while, but she hadn’t changed much, and she sure as hell wasn’t ready for everything it meant to be bonded. Especially not what it would mean to be bonded to one of the Aslanov sons. She still wore very little makeup, didn’t care too much about what brand of clothes she put on, never went to the salon to do either her hair or nails and would be hard-pressed to fit in with the other mated women of their social circles. Not that she had ever had any interest to, as far as Zeke understood it. If she was bonded to an Aslanov, whichever of the brothers she ended up with would insist she dress and behave in a way that would befit the mate of a dragon. She would suffocate under all the foundation and heavy jewelry. She’d lose herself.
“Alina,” Zeke said.
“Father has informed me of what is expected of me,” she said, glancing at Semyon only briefly before lowering her gaze to the floor. “It would be my great honor to—”
“Stop,” Zeke interrupted her. “Father,” he added, turning to Semyon. “There has to be another way to secure the trust that’s needed for this truce. We’ll find it together. I’ll stay. I’ll take part in any talks you set up with the other families. I’ll make sure they know I’m standing behind you in this. Please, don’t do this to Alina.”
“I’m not the one doing it,” Semyon said, the cold look back in his eyes. “You are.”
Zeke wished he had an argument to offer up, but he knew his father, knew that trying to press on the fact that this wouldn’t be happening at all if Semyon had chosen to leave a life of criminality behind would get him nowhere. The thought had never even crossed his father’s mind and, with what Zeke was certain had been pure glee, his father had accepted the mantle left to him by his father. There had never been any hesitation; for the past forty years, Semyon had guarded the territory that had been under Kumarin protection for generations. If protection was the right word for it. Zeke had never thought it was.
There was no way out.
He could walk away, sure, but that would mean he sacrificed Aline to a life of servitude. Whichever Aslanov brother she was set to mate with, Zeke knew them all well enough to know they wouldn’t take care of her. They didn’t take care of anyone but themselves. Her mate would make her into a slave to his whims, tell her what to do and what to say. Her mating bond would shackle her to such a life. He couldn’t possibly leave her to such a fate.
He saw his plans for his future begin to evaporate even as he drew a softly bitter breath, and said, “Who am I meant to bind myself to?”
His father’s chest swelled with pleasure at Zeke coming to heel. Zeke grit his teeth but kept himself from glaring at the man.
“There are five sisters to choose from,” Semyon said, waiting for Zeke to speak his mind.
Zeke hesitated, feeling as though it was a trick of some sort, a ploy to drag the truth of Zeke’s preferences out of him.
“I don’t care,” he therefore said. “Any one of them will do the trick, right?”
Semyon finally grinned in the delighted way he had of showing approval. Zeke had passed the test. It didn’t ease his mind one bit, and true to form, his father didn’t disappoint in being a complete and utter asshole.
“Let’s leave it a mystery then,” he said, rising from his chair. “You’ll find out who it is at the bonding ceremony tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Zeke asked, the tips of his fingers growing numb.
This was all happening much too fast. Tomorrow night was to be his bonding night? With a woman he was familiar with, sure, but with whom he hadn’t spent even an hour in conversation since he was seventeen. The youngest sister was barely fifteen.
“I will not mate with Oksana,” Zeke stated, hoping to at least take a child bride out of the equation.
His father threw his head back and laughed, coming around his desk to place his hand on Zeke’s shoulder. For a moment, their eyes locked, his father seeming appreciative for the first time in a long time of Zeke’s presence. He had treated him as something the cat dragged in and had barely said two words to him for most of the decade Zeke had spent away from the house. Semyon now gave a nod, patting Zeke’s cheek before breezing past Alina, as he and Red walked out of the room.
“I’m so sorry,” Alina said the moment the door closed, but Zeke was by her the following moment, pulling her in for a tight hug.
She was nineteen. She had her whole life ahead of her and nothing to be sorry for.
“It’s not your fault,” Zeke reassured her.
She hugged him back.
“Tomorrow,” she said, cheek against his chest.
“Tomorrow,” Zeke sighed, stroking her hair before pulling back to have a look at her. “Let’s go see if there are any candied cherries in the kitchen. Yes?”
