Feel the Burn (Dragon Kin #8)(9)

Making sure to sound particularly disappointed—she had a lot to pull off in a short amount of time. She had to handle this just right—Kachka asked, “These are the best you can spare?”

“Watch what you say, Kachka Shestakova,” a voice murmured. “At least my sister wasn’t run out of here by our own mother.”

Kachka didn’t even look to see who spoke. Instead, she kept her focus on Magdalina. For many reasons she did this, but mostly because it was dangerous to turn one’s back on Magdalina.

“My list clearly requested—”

“Your list?” Magdalina asked. “The list where you requested some of our best warriors to go off with you on a suicide mission for some imperialist queen? Did you really think the Anne Atli would give up her best people for something so ridiculous? No. Instead, we give you these. You’ll be happy with them . . . for the short time you will all live.”

“You do know we’re right here?” a male voice asked. “We can hear you.”

“Take what you’ve been given, Kachka Shestakova, and be glad for it.”

Kachka gave a heavy, dramatic sigh, “Fine. If there is nothing else.”

“There isn’t.”

Kachka began to walk away when another of the tribe leaders exited the Anne Atli’s tent and whispered in Magdalina’s ear.

Kachka watched Magdalina’s eyes widen. For Southlanders, it would be a “look of concern.” But for a Daughter of the Steppes, it was more a look of horror.

“Wait . . . wait here,” Magdalina ordered Kachka before returning to the Anne Atli’s tent.

Kachka did wait, unable to hear much beyond the sound of Magdalina’s voice debating something with a much quieter Anne Atli. Because when one ruled the Steppes, there was no need to yell.

As she waited, Kachka looked over at the four warriors she’d been given to work with.

Marina Aleksandrovna. A truly solid fighter who had one major flaw. She questioned the way the Riders lived their lives. Not roughing it on the harsh Steppes. That wasn’t her issue. But the way they treated the males they took, and the harsh way they dealt with the towns and cities outside the Steppes. This particular flaw made her a real pain in the ass to work with.

Then there were the Khoruzhaya siblings. Both excellent trackers and hunters. Better than even Kachka, which she knew was saying much. But they weren’t sisters. They were a brother and sister, born only a year apart, and the boy . . . he thought being born into the tribe made him equal to the women. It didn’t. Even worse, his foolish sister followed along with that thinking, allowing her brother to speak out at tribal events rather than punching him in the mouth to shut him up as Kachka had been known to do to her own brothers and male cousins. She did it to help them. To keep them safe until they were chosen to be husbands. But Yelena Khoruzhaya’s indulgence just made Ivan feel still more empowered. Even worse, she protected him from her sisters and female cousins. In the end, Yelena and Ivan had only each other to rely on.

And, finally—and not surprisingly—one of Kachka’s own: Tatyana Shestakova. A cousin loathed because of her love of Southland ways. She’d taught herself the common tongue of the Southlander so well, even perfecting the accent, that no one from those territories could tell that she wasn’t local. She even went so far as to favor the clothes of the Southlander and the decadent lifestyle, often wishing—out loud—that she had a “proper bed to sleep in.”

“What is happening here?” a voice boomed. “What am I missing?”

Ivan Khoruzhaya let out a bone-deep sigh. “Horse gods of Ramsfor, not her.”

Kachka had to agree. She’d hoped to be gone long before . . . this.

“What is all this?” the voice continued to ask as a very large body pushed its way through the crowd. It was only seconds before Zoya Kolesova stood before Elina. Towering over Kachka, Zoya gazed down at her from her lofty height. “Kachka Shestakova of the Black Bear Riders of the Midnight Mountains of Despair in the Far Reaches of the Steppes of the Outerplains?” she asked. “Whatever are you doing here? I thought you were tragically banished to the decadent world of the Southlands, never to be seen again!”

Kachka gazed up at the much larger woman. Even larger than her mother Glebovicha had been. Large and, like all of the Kolesovas, strong. Not strong like most of the Riders who had to live in the harsh Outerplains, but . . . strong. It was rumored that one of the earliest Kolesovas, determined to fight by the first Anne Atli’s side, had sacrificed her favorite husband to the horse gods in hopes of being “as strong as the man I’ve just killed.”

The gods must have liked the sacrifice because they did more than that. They’d not only made that Kolesova bigger and stronger than any man, but they’d done the same with the female offspring she had later in life. Now that strength and size was passed down from mother to daughter, again and again.

It seemed strange to outsiders that none of the Kolesovas, with all their physical strength, had ever once been the Anne Atli. But that was because they all shared a truly fatal flaw....

Zoya threw open her arms and swept Kachka up in a big bear hug, lifting her off her feet and nearly crushing her ribs in the process.

“I am so glad to see you, old friend!” Although they’d never been friends. Old or otherwise. “I thought for sure you were dead! I’m so glad you’re not! I’m so very happy!”