#kos fic

        What did the pastry mean, did it mean anything? Was she simply reading into something that wasn't there? She shook her head, looking back to her plate, he was even more insufferable tonight than usual, and she couldn’t figure out why. The whole day had been spent at bonfires, a banquet luncheon, sledding, all leading to this private dinner in Nikolai’s chambers with just the seven of them, maybe he was simply unburdened today. Either way as insufferable as he was, it was nice to see him happy. It wasn’t like he truly showed how stressed he was, but she could always feel it. It was a consequence of all the time they spent together, she would be doing a bad job if she didn’t know him as well as the back of her own hand, and Zoya refused to do anything poorly. There had been a few moments today though where she felt like he was acting even more different than usual, the looks he’d given her were puzzling to say the least.        After dinner they sank to the floor around the fire where they passed around drinks and stories that they rarely shared. Flushed with liquor and contentment, they moved on to yet another tradition of Sankt Nikolai’s day, the swapping of presents. Genya and David had gifted him a pair of fur-lined boots, Tamar and Nadia had given him a red wool coat, and Tolya a pair of woolen gloves, all the gifts Sankt Nikolai had received in the old saint story. They’d also presented him with bottles of cherry wine from that street rat’s club in Ketterdam, something he apparently enjoyed, but when a goblet had been passed to Zoya, she had to admit that it wasn’t terrible, it was actually quite good.

       As her turn drew closer, Zoya toyed with beading at her cuffs, she was starting to doubt her gift again. Her gift to Nikolai would be the last one opened tonight, and she worried that maybe it was too bold . She wasn’t sentimental, but she wanted to express her thanks to him. A thank you for the peace, the quiet, the companionship for the last three years, and since she couldn’t say it she wanted her gift to communicate it. But as it got closer and closer to the time Nikolai would open her gift she felt more nervous, a feeling that was very uncharacteristic for her.         And that wasn’t even the only thing bugging her. When it was time for the king to present his gift to her, he just smiled innocently and said, “Nazyalensky’s gift isn’t ready yet, she’ll get it later.” What was that supposed to mean? . Maybe she should do the same, and just pretend that she didn’t bring it to their little party-- but no, that would never work, it was clearly sitting in the middle of their little circle.         “Thank you, Tolya,” Nikolai said, his eyes glinting as he embraced his friend with one arm. At his feet lay a bound volume of poetry maybe, but it had Nikolai’s name on the cover.         “Wait,” she gasped, diving over Genya to scoop up the big book, “is this your poetry?”“Nazyalensky, give it back.” Zoya shot him a look in response and he sank back, “fine, you can read one, just ONE.”         She pushed her shoulders back, channeling her inner Nikolai, in all his theatrical glory. “This one is called--”“Not out-loud!”         “Think of this as my gift, since you clearly forgot mine.”=“I didn’t forget your gift, it’s just not ready yet.”         “That sounds exactly like what someone who didn’t get me a gift would say!”         He scrubbed a hand over his face, “fine. You can read one. Just one, commander.”         Tamar let out a sharp laugh, “I can’t wait to hear this.”         Zoya cleared her throat, “it’s called, ‘the harpy...’ really your highness?” At the cheering of Genya and a very tipsy David and Tamar, she continued, ignoring Nikolai’s pointed eye roll.         “floodlit break of day         a perfect, warm beauty fills         pushing away the dark         a brilliant ocean         a royal, sharp blue invites         calling to the eyes         twinkling nighttime          a radiant kiss softly         against the fingers”         ”Zoya frowned, “this wasn’t as bad as I was expecting. What is it supposed to be about?”         “Are you kidding me?” Nadia blurted out, “Zoya mmfmfm--” Tamar’s hand clamped over her mouth, keeping her from hearing the rest of Nadia’s sentence.         “What?”         “Oh Zoya, maybe you’ll get it one day,” Genya laughed, throwing an arm around Tolya, “try to work it out tonight. And with that, we need to get to bed, goodnight!” And with a flourished bow, she and the others had collected their gifts and closed the door behind them, leaving her and Nikolai alone, his poetry book still in her hands. She swapped it for the gift box she’d wrapped earlier in the day, the idea of presenting the items in it to him still making her stomach flutter.         “Here,” Zoya thrust the package at his chest, spinning on her heel and tailing towards the door. She didn’t want to stick around and see his reaction, giving him a gift had been embarrassing enough for this lifetime.“Nazyalensky, wait,” warm, calloused fingers grasped at her wrist turning her back around. Nikolai had a strange look on his face, he looked a little confused, a little amused and a little exasperated all at once. “You haven’t gotten your present yet.”         “Wasn’t the poem my gift? We have lots to do in the morning and I have to get to sleep.” She tried to tug free, but the king’s grip was like iron.         “You know it wasn’t, and no, we don’t. Sit.”         She sighed indignantly, strutting over to the armchairs before the fire, her back as straight as a rod, every muscle in her body tense. She really didn’t want to be here for this. Zoya hadn’t put this much consideration into a gift since she’d bought things for Liliyana, and it felt like she was exposing some innermost part of herself by doing it, she could only hope that Nikolai wouldn’t realize just how much time she put into putting the present together.         Nikolai settled into the chair beside her, slipping something under it before she could discern what it was. Odd. “Your wrapping skills are a seven, good, but clearly not as good as mine.”          “A seven ? As if. My skills are a ten, and even if you have absolutely no taste, you would know that they’re at least a nine and a half.”         “Fine. A seven and a half.”         “A nine and a half, take it or leave it.”         “Whatever you say, commander.” His nimble fingers carefully pulled the paper apart at the seams, and Zoya waited with bated breath.         This was a mistake, “Nikolai--”“Oh,” he said softly, holding up the miniature to the light from the fire, “oh.” His fingers trailed over the blonde hair of his mother’s portrait, tracing the golden hair that matched his. “Oh,” he turned his face away from her for a second, quickly scrubbing a hand over his features before he turned back to the box in his lap. ‘Oh indeed.’         Next he pulled out a framed piece of fabric, the flag with a red hound that had flown on his boat-- the Volkvolny. Thumbing the fabric, thoughtfully, he turned to her, “how did you get this?”         “I can’t reveal my secrets,” she replied, nodding at the box again, “there’s more.” She wasn’t about to tell him how enamored she’d been by the ride on his ship to Kerch, how it’d reminded her of what Liliyana used to tell her on their journey to the little palace. How she was surprised by his abilities as a captain, and how she’d enjoyed the trip so much, she’d charmed the crew into giving her the flag as a memento. Not tonight.         “More? You’re spoiling me Nazyalensky.”“Just get it over with.” When Nikolai turned back to the box, Zoya quickly made her way to the door, scooping up the real present from Tolya’s arms before quietly closing the door behind her.         “Zoya, is this meant to fit me?” He held up a small loop of ribbon threaded through a delicate bell.         “Well,” she began, holding the squirming kitten out towards him… "if you don’t want her, Tolya said he would take her.”         Nikolai blanched for a moment, and Zoya felt her heart stop again, what was he going to say? But then, he was lifting the cat into his own arms, “does she have a name?”         Zoya blanched, wasn’t the person whose cat it was supposed to come up with the name? “I can’t do everything for you, your highness.”         “Any suggestions?”         “You can name her if you take her.”         “Of course I’m taking her, Nazyalensky.” He rolled his eyes at her, setting the kitten on the floor where she curled up at his feet. “But why a cat?”         She shrugged, “cats have nine lives, they always find a way to stay on their feet, they’re excellent at keeping their balance, and they’re aloof, and you seem to have experience in dealing with aloof personalities.” Zoya clasped her hands together as she slumped back in her chair, “not to mention that you seemed a little bit lonely-- you know, given with the broken engagement and all.”         “I think I’ll name her Lisa.”         “You want to name your cat… fox?”         “Yes.”“Well, if that’s all,” she began to stand.         “Wait, we haven’t done your gifts yet,” Nikolai protested, “I promise I got you something.” He reached under his seat and pulled out a perfectly wrapped rectangular box, placing it gently in her hands. “I don’t want to overstep, but I hope you’ll at least think about the things in here.”         She arched a brow at him, but he was quiet while she pulled the paper apart. “Are these my beads, from my keftas?”“You drop them more often than you’d think.”         She turned the clip over in her hands, the silver sparkled in the light, and with it’s curved pattern it reminded her of illustrations of a gust of wind, fine lines of sapphire stones intertwined with silver beads. Zoya let out a startled laugh, her fingers pressing into the beads, she hadn’t received something as personal as this in a very, very long time, and here she was taken aback by a pin of all things.         “May I?” Nikolai asked, holding out his hand expectantly. When the confused look stayed on her face, he leaned forward and plucked the clip from her hands. Before she could protest however he was directly before her, his fingers brushing back her hair. Zoya wasn’t thinking anymore, hell she wasn’t sure if she was even breathing anymore. All she could feel was Nikolai’s hands against her hair, pushing her hair back, the barest warmth from his breath by her ear, the determination in his bright eyes.         “There,” he whispered as the clip clicked into place, but he made no move back to his seat. Instead his hand trailed slowly downwards, resting at her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered against her will, and it took everything in her to stop herself from shuddering. Nikolai’s thumb grazed her cheekbone, and the next thing she knew, his lips were pressed against hers. Zoya reacted instantly, her fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer. Saints, she hadn’t realized how badly she’d wanted this, she was barely known she wanted it at all, but in this moment she couldn’t remember wanting anything but this. She leaned in against his touch, her forehead resting against his when they broke apart.         “Zoya?”         “Hm?”“There’s more inside the box.” She let out a little sigh, her head still spinning, the enormity of her actions still not sinking in quite yet. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was her own way of surrendering to this feeling, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care either way, she had wanted to kiss him, and so she had. And now, she wanted to do it again.         “Nikolai, this is a piece of paper.”         “A piece of paper with words on it.”         “The harpy…” she hesitated for a second, letting the words wash over her. “That poem was about me?”         “Yes, Nazyalensky.”         “And the mornings and nights-- those parts were about me locking you in at night and coming to unlock you in the mornings?”         “Yes, Nazyalensky.”         His fingers threaded with hers and she settled her head against his shoulder, leaning into his embrace, “what did the star pastry mean?”         “It didn’t mean anything, I was only trying to see how oblivious you were.”         “Take that back,” she threatened, jabbing a finger at him, “I am not oblivious.”         “Fine,” he amended, raising his hand in mock surrender, “not oblivious, just too scared to admit how much you actually liked me.”

        ‘I’m sorry, Nikolai. This is my fault.’ That was the last text she was going to send him after they broke up, but she’d never been able to hit send. It had been her fault and hers alone but she couldn’t send it. She couldn’t bear to be left on read, or for him to respond, what if he did? What if he told her that he missed her… or that he understood the breakup and was okay with it now? Zoya didn’t want to face either of those possibilities, so she took the route which insured the least amount of pain. She never hit send, but the draft stayed in her messages, it haunted her at night. ‘What if…’

        She was scared, but she had always known she wouldn’t be able to stay forever. He’d known that too, Nikolai had never pushed her and so she’d let herself get comfortable, let her forget herself and who she was. But in the end her past had caught up to her, and she had to leave. She thought he would’ve known-- that he would’ve seen it coming, but he had fallen hard, letting his foolish heart outpace his clever mind. Zoya cared about him, more than almost anyone she’d ever known, and she wanted him to be happy. How happy could he be, planning for eternity with a girl who couldn’t make that guarantee? 

        “I’ve never had anything serious before,” she’d whispered one night after her friends had left the party, leaving her to clean up the mess. But of course Nikolai had stayed to help, no matter the fact that he’d been up for almost 70 hours, had flown across the country for her university graduation.

        “Neither have I. There was one time where I had thought we could’ve been something great, but we never got to try.” 

        Zoya captured his hand in hers, “do you think we could be something?” 

        Nikolai smiled wearily but his eyes shone with affection, “I think we already are, Nazyalensky.” 

        “Could we— I just need a moment,” Nikolai said quietly, he felt strange, a little lightheaded, anxious and maybe panicked. Zoya looked at him, picking up on his frown, and in that moment he saw that she understood. She shot out of her seat, heading for the front of the room, commanding everyone’s attention with the authority of a general.

        “Right,” she snapped, clapping her hands together, “everyone clear out.” She was met with a sea of disbelieving faces, they’d all expected that the worst of the night was over and that they could simply sit and watch the results. “Did I not make myself clear?” she enunciated slowly, “everyone get back to work. We haven’t won yet, there’s no use in sitting around with your mouths open like a group of guppies when there’s still important work to be done. You can watch the results roll in from your stations, why do you think every wall in this office has a tv screen? Now get back to it!”

        Nikolai felt a rush of gratitude for Zoya as everyone started to trail out of the room, looking tired, but buzzing with anticipation for the results. He wished he could have as much faith as them, but he was worried. In the midst of all his negativity, something rather rare for him, he felt nervous too. Every time he looked at Zoya, he couldn’t help but feel nervous. Something had shifted between the two of them these past few weeks, it felt like something had been lying dormant for so long and had chosen now to make itself known. Every moment between them felt charged,

        When the room had cleared out, Zoya made her way to the door as well, about to turn the knob when he spoke, “...Zoya.” She knew he would not ask, it wasn’t in his nature, but she also knew that he wanted her to stay. And so she would. She poured two mugs of coffee and sat beside him, fighting to ignore the jolt she felt when he took the mug from her, fingers barely brushing hers. They sat in silence as the tv displayed new results every few minutes, Nikolai’s fingers clenching and unclenching around his drink. She couldn’t ask him if he was okay, he would resent that she asked, believing that she saw him as being weak, but she also knew he couldn’t sit like this for the next hour. She furrowed her brow, unsure about what she could do.

        Nikolai felt his heart beating in his throat, his tie was too tight, his jacket was too hot, his mind was racing too fast. The decaf coffee Zoya had handed him had done nothing but give him another thing to worry about, was it actually decaf? The way his heart was pounding, it didn’t feel like it. He was usually composed, calm, in charge of a situation or on his way to getting everything under control, but in this moment, he was anything but. He knew that losing was not the end of the world, that he had a good chance, but more than his personal defeat, he was worried for what it meant to his friends, and the people he promised to help. If his opponent won, the Darkling would be pulling the strings, using Demidov as a puppet to do his bidding, and almost all of his policies were the opposite of what Nikolai believed in, what he fought for. Not only that but he could see the disappointment on his friends’ faces, they loathed the Darkling, and this had been a way for them to finally beat him in a meaningful way. And none of that would happen if he lost. He knew he could do what was needed, he just hoped other people voted like they knew it too.

        There was another aspect about losing that worried him, what would happen after. He needed to win this position so that he would have the adequate experience for the next, and if he lost he would have to run again in four years. Even if he went back to practicing law, he knew his team wouldn’t be working alongside him. Genya was talented and highly sought-after, she and David would have no issue finding work, same with the twins. And then there was Zoya, whose whole job was to manage political campaigns, and she had made amendments to her title so that she could be Nikolai’s chief of staff, something she would never consider doing for anyone else. He was beyond lucky to have her by his side, but if he lost, he knew she had been getting calls from senators, international dignitaries, hoping that she would join their campaigns. If he couldn’t pull this off, he might not see her again, not for a few years at least, and at this point in their lives, in two years Zoya might be married and living in London while running some big campaign on the other side of the world.

        Looking at her, her eyebrows furrowed, head resting on her hand, he decided her absence would haunt him the most. He’d come to spend the last few years relying on her in his work, in his daily life, as the voice in the back of his head. He didn’t want to know what it would mean to achieve the things he wanted so desperately without her next to him to celebrate with. Maybe it was the tired, scared part of him that acted next, tired of being alone, shutting out feelings he knew he possessed, however deep he tried to hide them.

        Setting his coffee down, he reached out tentatively, before realizing that hesitant behavior wouldn’t be appreciated, instead moving confidently, seizing her hand in his own. She gave him a look that not even he could read, maybe some worry, and surprise. He made to pull back, but she squeezed his fingers tightly, sliding just a little bit closer to him, enough that he could smell the wildflower perfume she wore on special occasions drift over. For once he didn’t want to speak, worried it would break the fragility of the moment, so they sat in silence, hand in hand until the projected results rolled in nearly an hour later.

        Zoya let out a shriek, jumping out of her seat, her hands flying up to her face in shock. “Nikolai,” Zoya said, her blue eyes brilliant with excitement, “Nikolai, you did it.” Her hands slid up to cup his face, her palms on his cheeks, “Nikolai, you won!”

        Nikolai brought his own hands up resting them on top of hers, “Zoya, we did it. We did it.” She was beaming at him, he’d never seen her more elated, and he found himself grinning too, her smile was contagious.

        “We did it, we bested him, we showed them all, we did it,” Zoya repeated, her head spinning. She had to repeat it or else she was afraid it wouldn’t be true. She let out a dazed laugh, letting her hands slide down from Nikolai’s face to his shirt, clenching the material. She let her forehead fall to his chest, letting her head catch up with everything that had just happened. They’d won, against all odds, they’d won. She felt his arms wrap around her, and they stayed like that, embracing for a blissful moment before Zoya remembered herself. ‘One. Two. Three.’ she counted before she started to untangle herself from him. He must have been counting as well, as he pulled away at the same time.

        “Right, well.”

        “Zoya I—”

        “Nikolai! You did it!” Genya hollered bursting into the room, her red hair a banner streaking behind her as she launched herself at him. He stumbled back as the rest of his friends streamed into the room, David quietly closing the door behind them. The next little while was filled with them embracing, celebrating, and Nikolai promising that they could all get drunk after he gave his victory speech. Zoya slipped out of the room as they all celebrated, dropping off small thank-you gifts they’d spent the night before putting together for all the staff because none of them could sleep. She got surprised looks from some of them, and attempts for hugs from others, and she nearly laughed. Despite what everyone thought, she was not heartless, and she did want to thank them for their competency, even if they chose not to utilize it at times. When she finished, she grabbed Nikolai’s speech from her office and made her way back to her friends. He almost always wrote his speeches on his own, asking them to review them, but three nights ago he’d pulled her aside and asked her to write one from scratch for him. Well, technically two, a victory and a concession speech. Everyone broke apart as Zoya came back in, heading to the ballroom where Nikolai would be making his victory speech. They trailed far behind the rest of them, as Nikolai read through what she’d written for him.

        “ ‘While my good looks may have helped a bit, I know my team was instrumental to my success, even if they didn’t approve of my runway dreams and of me modelling on the August cover of Vogue.’ I like this,” he chuckled, absentmindedly running his thumb over his lip. “And this part here, ‘as I like to say, we hope or we falter,’ very true Nazyalensky.”

        Zoya flashed him a quick nod, trying to distract herself from his stupid mouth. She found herself doing it more and more often since that night in his apartment, distracting herself from the way the light caught off his golden hair, the way he smiled when he saw a friend no matter how tired he was, the way his fingers brushed his lips when he found something amusing. Everything he did was infuriating beyond belief and sent burning waves of irritation through her— or at least she claimed it was irritation. She was glad that the election was over, at least the next few weeks wouldn’t be as stressful, and she could stop her mind from crumbling to the pressure and doing something as stupid as she had almost done that night. She chose to ignore what had just happened while they were waiting for the results, alone in that room together. She would have done it for any of her clients— no she wouldn’t have. She would have done the same for her friends— although maybe without the hand-holding. ‘Yes’ she said to herself. She would have done the same for the others, there was nothing special about that moment. She tried to convince herself that she was right, but she knew otherwise. Damn him.

        Nikolai paused outside the backstage door, his mind racing. He was still jittery from his win, even more so now that he was about to face a crowd of supporters and several news cameras. David was giving the speech that would introduce Nikolai to the stage, as Nikolai turned to face Zoya, “ After this,” he gestured to the stage door, “before we go to the victory party, can I read my concession speech? I want to know what it said.”

        Zoya hesitated, her nerves buzzing. What she had done had been a classic Nikolai move, which meant that he might not be a fan, it wasn’t what he expected of her. But he wanted an answer and so he’d get one. “I didn’t write one,” she said sharply, looking up at him through her lashes. “I didn’t think you’d need one.”

        Nikolai felt a rush of gratitude at her words. Ever-practical, the realist between them, Zoya, believed in him to this extent? Yes. She believed in him more than anyone else ever had, more than his flightly mother and inane father ever had. She’d stuck by him through the ridiculousness of this election, the madness of the last seven years. He let his head reel at that fact while he let his heart make the first move, grabbing her face in his hands, pausing for a split second and pressing a swift kiss to her mouth. She froze against him, and he began to pull away right as her hands grasped his arms pulling him back to her. Her hands slid upwards, tangling in his neatly styled hair, and he grinned, normally she’d be the one killing him for having a hair out of place.

        “This is a terrible idea,” Zoya gasped, pulling back slightly.

        “Really? I consider this one of my best yet,” he laughed as she hit his chest, drawing her close again. One of the biggest moments in his life was scheduled to happen in minutes and he couldn’t find it in himself to be anxious about it, not when he’d been waiting years for this.

        She pulled him close this time, throwing her hesitations out the window, pressing her fingers to his cheek. Her other hand moved to help him shrug off his suit jacket, letting out a breathless laugh against his lips as it refused to come off.

        “Seems I’m a bit stuck,” he whispered, eyes sparkling as he rested his forehead against hers.

        “Seems you are. Try—” she was interrupted by the sound of footsteps quickly approaching. Nikolai flung himself in front of the stage door, barricading it with his body as Zoya began straightening out his clothes, pulling the jacket up, straightening his tie and trying to flatten the strands of hair she’d mussed only moments before. ‘Now I remember why this was such a bad idea,’ she thought, fixing her own appearance with one hand, Nikolai intertwining the other with his as Genya knocked on the door.

        “Nikolai you’re on in a minute!”

        “Thank you, Genya dear,” he shot Zoya a wink, pressing a quick kiss to her fingers before pulling her through the door behind him. ‘Shameless,’ she thought, pulling her hand from his before they ran into their friends, ‘that man is completely shameless.’

        “Good night, and thank you.” Nikolai called, letting the cheers of the crowd wash over him. He had accomplished many things in his life, each more grand than the last, but this win felt different. Maybe it was the fact that he’d finally managed to figure out if Zoya shared his feelings, or the fact that in an hour he would be getting drunk at their victory party before heading to a surprise karaoke party being thrown for him which he’d already found out about from a sleep-talking David. He knew he must be grinning like an idiot as he and his team headed back to his limo, waiting for Demidov's congratulatory call. Tolya popped open a bottle of champagne as Demidov graciously accepted defeat and talked Nikolai’s ear off for twenty minutes about how he was going to go be C.E.O. of his father's company specializing in something or the other, and how he’d love to get lunch with Nikolai and talk about contributing to his future campaigns. His arm was draped over the back of Zoya’s seat, something he always did, but a gesture that felt electric tonight. He wanted nothing more than to go back to what they had started earlier, but he was sure that Zoya wasn’t ready for anyone to know quite yet. And so they passed the rest of the ride listening to David’s enthusiasm about how many votes Nikolai got, his eyes meeting on hers time and time again. As Genya chimed in, Nikolai moved, subtle enough that no one else noticed when he daringly slipped his hand down around Zoya’s shoulders. She relaxed ever so slightly, looking up at him with an arched brow before leaning into him in the slightest of ways. Nikolai suppressed a grin, tonight was something out of his most wild dreams.

        As they approached the skyscraper where the party was, Zoya’s phone rang out shrilly, the tone for unknown callers playing. She frowned, the only people who had her personal number were either sitting in this car, or at her aunt’s house, and she had them all saved in her phone. Reaching into her clutch, she pulled it out, there was no caller ID. Nikolai raised a brow at her taking a sip from his glass, all of the others in the car watching curiously alongside him. Normally she wouldn’t bother to pick it up, but she’d never gotten a spam call on this number, and she wouldn’t mind berating someone tonight, that and the tiniest worry that something had happened to her aunt or cousin and for some reason they were using a different number.

        “Who is this?” she said, by way of greeting.

        “Zoya, such a pleasure to hear your voice.” she froze.

        “No.” She pulled away from the phone, moving to end the call when he spoke again, loud enough that she couldn’t hide who it was from the rest of them.

        “Now, now Zoya, I just wanted to congratulate you on your win, you always were my most capable student, although Safin did serve her purposes too, until she decided to betray me.”

        “Shut up,” Zoya hissed, feeling rage coursing through her veins. How dare he say Genya’s name, how dare he call her, tonight of all nights. How had he gotten this number? Everyone who had it hated him more than the next.

        “You did a good job, Zoya. I’m excited to see what you do next. I’ll have a front row seat, naturally.” He waited for her to say something, but she didn’t, if she tried to speak right now, she would scream instead. When he realized she wouldn’t he continued, “Jarl Brum has asked me to be his new chief of staff, and since his office works closely with Sobachka’s— your golden boy’s district, I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of one another.” She heard Genya gasp, Tolya growl, Tamar reach for her holster, and from the corner of her eye she saw that Nikolai was watching her, a worried crease between his brows. “Listen you bastard,” she began, ready to eviscerate him. She thought tonight’s victory would be enough, but here he was again, taunting them again. She would not let him have the upper hand. “If you so much as think about any of us again, I swear to the Saints that I will rip your t—” Zoya stopped as Nikolai’s hand touched her arm gently shaking his head once, a simple warning. She knew he was right, they were in the business of politics, and he already had enough reasons to make their lives miserable. She wouldn’t let him see how angry she was. She would wait, quietly, until the moment he least expected it, and then she would end his career. ‘I will drag him down like he deserves. He won’t be able to hurt them again.’ she vowed.

        “Lose this number. Don’t cry too much over the big bonus check you would’ve gotten if you had half the brains I do and had won. Goodnight Alexis.” Zoya spat, hanging up before he spoke again. She tossed her phone onto the floor carelessly, she had no use for it anymore, not when that snake had her number. Tamar let out a whoop as Tolya and Genya began clapping.

        “I can’t wait to see you kick his ass in person!” Genya sang, slipping out of the car not waiting for the rest to follow, and Zoya heard her voice continue, moving away from them. When it was just her and Nikolai left, she began to stand, halting as his hand slipped to her knee. She didn’t want to hear him ask if she was okay, she loathed to think that any of them had to see that part of her. Instead, he surprised her.

        “I didn't get to thank you yet.”

        She snorted, “thank me for what? Almost threatening to murder a man on the phone?”

        He made a face, “no, for helping me win.”

        “ You would’ve definitely lost without my help.”         “Undoubtedly.”

        After a brief silence, they both spoke at once, “what now?”

        He let out a strained laugh, looking weary as he asked, “do you want to do this Nazyalensky?”

        “Do you?”

        “Yes,” he breathed, cupping her face with a hand, “yes.”

        She swallowed, turning her face into his palm, she had pretended she hadn’t wanted this for so long that she was afraid to question herself now. Did she want this? She did, but she was also scared. Scared to ruin what they had, scared it wouldn’t work out, scared he would be just another person who left her behind. Maybe it was the adrenaline of the night, or the glimmer in his eyes, but she didn’t care. She wanted this, that much she was sure of.

        She nodded once, smiling at the dorky look on his face, sliding her hand into his coat pocket and typing furiously into his phone.

        “What are you doing?”

        “Telling Genya we left something at the office. That buys us 30 minutes before we have to actually go up.”

        “That’s unacceptable and you know it, don’t you?”

        “Y-yes ma’am.”

        Zoya resisted the urge to roll her eyes, dear lord, each new batch of interns was worse than the last. They had no backbone whatsoever, and when did it become part of her job to help them develop one? “So, if you know the criteria for all reports submitted to me, why didn’t you check with your supervisor that it had been done correctly? Why would you bring it to me without being sure?”

        “I-- I’m so sorry Ms.Nazyalensky, it won’t happen again.”

        She nodded curtly, “see to it that it doesn’t. We run a big campaign, and we can’t afford to have little things like this slow down the cogs of the machine. Double check all the requirements next time, because if you don't, there won't be any more chances, nor will you ever find a job with any political campaign again.” The kid, Paul-- no--Patrick, stared at her, his mouth wobbling, trying to find a reply. She’d given him another chance, why was he still standing there, acting like she’d already fired him? She opened her mouth, about to tell him to run back to his station when she noticed glinting gold out of the corner of her eye. Fantastic. The gallant hero riding in to save the poor intern from the stormy harpy. She knew the names they called her, and she didn't care in the least. There was a reason she had her job, and that was because she was the best, not because she was the nicest.

        “What Nazyalenksy means to say is that we constantly have to be updated with new incoming information that the format that you learned on your first day was created to save as much time as possible while conveying the information easily. Each individual on the staff has a significant role to play, something that seems as trivial as a document’s format has a big impact on the entire campaign. Your job is as important as mine, Pavel.”

        A hand clapped down on the young man’s shoulder as he replied, “really?” in an awed voice, mouth agape. Zoya fought to keep her composure again, these interns were always ready to bow down in front of their boss as if he were a king and they were mere subjects. A few words from Nikolai, a charming smile thrown their way and they were basically genuflecting.

        “Well, that’s not entirely true, I suppose. I do have to stand around and look dashing, the most difficult of my daily tasks,” the man said good-naturedly. This was typical Nikolai, when he was in front of the lower level employees, he was a commanding and kind boss. When he was before his biggest donors, he was a charming young man, telling lively stories about his time in university, his world adventures, how he’d sailed around the world in two years, anything that would ensure their support. Pavel stood rooted to the spot, this was clearly the first encounter he’d had with the Nikolai Lantsov, and he looked like he was close to passing out.

        “Run along now, Peter, and remember what I said.” The boy hurried away, too scared to tell her she’d called him by the wrong name, turning his head back to catch one last glimpse at Nikolai, paling as Nikolai raised a hand waving goodbye.

        “His name was Pavel, and you didn’t have to instill the fear of Zoya into him for his mistake,” Nikolai said, turning his head towards her.

        Zoya shrugged a shoulder noncommittally, “now he’ll never make the same mistake again. Where are we finding these new recruits, I swear we weren’t this incompetent when we did this.”

        “You, incompetent? Those words don’t belong together in a sentence at all.”

        “What about, Zoya’s unparalled talents save her incompetent candidate, Nikolai Lantsov from defeat yet again?” At that, Zoya saw slight tension creep into Nikolai’s stance. She sighed, they really couldn’t go more than an hour without yet another issue springing up, could they?

        “Perhaps that isn’t the most fitting phrase,” Nikolai said, tone shifting from easy and relaxed to all business. “Let’s talk in my office.” As he led the way down the hall of their headquarters, Zoya saw people stick their heads out of doorways to catch a glimpse of the golden boy, eyes wide, mouths agape. Zoya didn’t miss the looks towards her as well. Regularly she was their hardass superior who tolerated nothing less than perfection, but whenever their staff saw her go into a room alone with Nikolai, they got ideas that only added to the small, but ridiculous rumors that they were ‘a thing.’ She couldn’t care less, her job was to be his campaign manager during election season, and Chief of Staff otherwise— and so nearly half of her time was spent with Nikolai, heads bent over desks, trying to solve whatever new problem they encountered. Long after everyone had wrapped for the day, they would still be at the office, or retreat to Nikolai’s lavish apartment to continue working. She always went home after these late-night sessions, and nothing remotely scandalous had ever happened between her and Nikolai, but the rumors didn’t seem to care about facts. They were close, they always had been. She wasn’t about to act differently because of a small rumor. Unless their actions would negatively impact Nikolai’s image, she didn’t care. Still, Zoya swept the hallway with a cool glare, she was still their superior, and they didn’t have time to waste watching a man walk down the hall.

        By the time Zoya reached the end of the hall, Nikolai was gallantly holding the door open for her, and quickly shut it behind her. She didn’t particularly care for his office, it felt like a watered down, more palatable version of his home office, which was much more eclectic, filled with his personal hard-won treasures, not just that which looked the most interesting and professional. But she supposed, if anyone understood the importance of presentation, it was her. Her blue silk blouse with its delicate silver pearl buttons was paired with a sleek black skirt, and her usual heels were polished to perfection, not unlike Nikolai’s shining black Oxfords. “So, what is it?”

        “Zoya. It’s... It’s…” He scrubbed a hand over his face, and she froze, she hadn’t seen him this phased about something in a long, long time. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good.

        “Just spit it out Nikolai, whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.”

        “We have reason to believe that Demidov has a new Campaign Manager.”

        Zoya felt her brows draw together, “that can’t be the whole of it, who is it Lantsov?” Nikolai looked at her pointedly and Zoya understood immediately, “no. No. No. Way. In. Hell.” She felt pure hatred course through her veins. ‘Any other problem, we could deal with-- any other problem than this. Why did it have to be this?’ She drew in a deep breath. She had been preparing to face him again for years. Not just to face him, but to beat him at his own game, and she knew that she could. She had learned a lot, grown, and become a force to be reckoned with. She was ready to beat him, and this time, she would.

        “Right then, what do you want our next move to be?”

        Nikolai looked up at her, his brows furrowed, she was almost sure that he was going to ask her if she was alright, which was the last thing she needed to hear right now. Instead, he shook his head slightly, clearing his face of all concern before drawing out files from his desk drawer. “We have to figure out their strategy. But before that, we have to tell the team. Demidov is definitely bringing his new manager to the charity ball tonight which means we’re all going to have to play nice.”

        Zoya snorted, “you can play nice Nikolai, I’ll be doing just the opposite.”

        “Zoya,” he caught her wrist as she turned to stand. “All of us hate him, but we can’t do anything in public today. I promise that we will find a way to get rid of him forever, but we’re not going to do anything to jeopardize future plans today, is that clear?”

        Her chest heaved, it had taken everything in herself not to let go and scream when she’d realized who Nikolai was alluding to, but she didn’t know if she could manage to do this-- to go through a 6 hour fundraiser while ‘playing nice’ with the man who had ruined all their lives. But she had a job, and that was to carry them through this election, to have Nikolai’s back, to ensure that they did what they could for the people they promised to serve, and she would not let him be the reason she didn’t fulfill her duties. She pursed her lips, nodding at Nikolai, “I won’t do anything to mess things up, but I sure as hell won’t be playing ‘nice’.”

        “I would expect nothing less of you,” Nikolai said with a genuine smile, tugging gently at her wrist, “if I wanted someone who would ‘play nice’ I wouldn’t have started working with you eight years ago.”

        “You didn’t start working with me, Lantsov, I started working with you. Without my intervention, you would still be in local politics.”

        “Semantics dear Zoya. If I hadn’t approached you in the law library, we would have never met.”

        “That’s wrong and you know it. We would’ve met when I ran for the head of the student body and beat you for the presidency. I would’ve loved to see you defeated by me. It’s fine, I guess watching you lose board game night every Friday for the last eight years is good enough.” She sat down, her wrist still in Nikolai’s grasp.

        “I don’t lose every time,” Nikolai frowned childishly, and Zoya had to suppress a laugh, she knew he was trying to up her spirits before they had to relay the bad news to the others. “I always win the strategic games, like chess, but you unfairly banned them.”

        Zoya leaned in, cocking her head at him, “we can’t all be boring like you Lantsov. What’s the point of a game night if half the group falls asleep by 9 PM?”

        Nikolai leaned in as well, “it’s not my fault none of you are worthy competitors, if you--” he was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, causing Zoya to pull away sharply, yanking her wrist from him. Nikolai shot her an unreadable look before inhaling deeply, “yes?”

        “Mister Lantsov, I have Ms. Safin, Mr. Kostyk, Mr. Yul-Bataar and Ms. Kir-Bataar here, like you asked.”

        Nikolai and Zoya shared a look, this was it then. “Let them in.”

                                                                        ---

        “Zoya, come on, we’re going to be late unless we leave right now,” Nikolai glanced at his watch, the charity event started in 40 minutes and with the traffic it would definitely take them at least half an hour to get there.

        “I’m coming!” Zoya’s voice drifted down from the upstairs floor of his apartment. Zoya lived in a cozy apartment in Hell’s Kitchen that she had shared with Genya and Tamar, but when Tamar had started getting serious with Nadia, she’d moved in with the girl and they’d gotten married shortly after. Now, Genya and David were newly engaged, which meant that David was always over, and so Zoya was spending more time at his place, because as she liked to say, “if I have to sit through one more dinner where it’s just the two of them goggling at each other the entire night, I’ll take out their eyes myself.” After they’d broken the news to the rest of their inner circle, Zoya had asked if she could get ready at his apartment, and when he’d said yes, had gone home immediately to grab her things. He knew she felt unreasonably guilty, that she felt like she’d betrayed her friends by allowing Demidov to hire him, even though she’d had no way to stop it from happening. He knew she didn’t want to have to face Genya alone immediately after they had told her, and he knew that was why she’d sought refuge in his apartment for a few hours before the party. He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t her fault, that she couldn’t change the past, only work with him to better things in the future, but these were things she already knew, and she relied on him to help her to move forward, not tell her what she already knew.

        Nikolai looked at his watch again, now they were actually about to be late, “Time to go! Where are you Zo—” Nikolai felt his breath skip. While he’d been distracted, Zoya had begun to descend the stairs, looking ethereal in a silky emerald green dress, her hair loose, tumbling in ink black waves over her shoulders. He felt a bit like a school boy, his breath quite literally knocked from his chest for a moment. Teardrop emeralds hung from her ears, and matching clips held back portions of her hair. He thought Zoya in her favoured blue had been difficult to resist, but Zoya in green was a sight to behold on its own. Had he not been practiced in restraining himself from her beauty, he was sure he would’ve trailed behind her the whole night like a forlorn puppy.

        “I’m ready, I’m ready!” She called, hurrying to the door to slip on her heels for the night. “Hold this,” she grumbled, smacking her clutch into his chest as she breezed by him.

        “Ouch, you know you could be more gent--”he broke off, nearly gaping. Backless. Her dress was backless. Nikolai looked up to the heavens, it seemed less and less likely that he was going to survive tonight. He shook his head, trying to clear it so he could focus on their task for the night, although he didn’t know how he was supposed to focus on anything else when his Chief of Staff was looking like that. He sighed audibly and Zoya’s head snapped towards him as they slipped out the door.

        “What, you’re not looking forward to tonight?”

        “No. I am.”

        “What is it then?”

        “I’m just thinking about how you’ve out-dressed me again. People are going to start thinking I have no sense of style if you keep upstaging me like his,” he replied, grinning at her.

        She rolled her eyes, “you’re not used to it yet, Lantsov? I’ve always been better dressed and better-looking. Maybe it’s time you up your game.”

        “Oh,” he clutched his chest in mock despair, “how you wound me.” Zoya snorted at him before flouncing towards the elevator. He stared after her, he definitely would never get used to this.

                                                                ---

        They’d sat through the initial speeches, the extravagant dinner with its ridiculously small portions and now the dance floor had opened up and yet, they’d yet to see Demidov or the newest addition to his staff. Nikolai had convinced Zoya to dance after she’d spent the better part of the evening making sure Genya was okay, and that Nikolai spoke to all the people they needed to secure as donors, and charmed everyone who came within 5 feet of him. Now, finally he’d been granted a short reprieve in the form of a dance with his favourite harpy.

        Zoya felt her pulse thrumming, her adrenaline had been high all night, and she just wanted the night to be over, the anticipation was tugging at her relentlessly. She’d agreed to a dance with Nikolai, and he looked especially the part of a prince tonight. She had to admit to that she’d had a moment of speechlessness when she’d seen him at the bottom of the stairs, the midnight black of his suit a stark contrast to his golden locks, and the gold tie pin and cufflinks he adorned highlighted the gold flecks in his hazel eyes. It was good that he looked handsome tonight, from a professional standpoint only, of course, people responded to beauty, they both knew that. She’d been around Nikolai, been his closest friend for long enough that she had made herself immune to his charms and looks. Still, she fought shivers when he placed her hand in his, the other sitting on the small of her back as he led her into a flawless waltz. As they began to gently sway to the soft string music, Zoya’s mind turned back to the issue at hand.

        “Do you see him?”

        “No. He’s probably waiting to make a dramatic entrance.”

        “Is that what you would do?”

        Nikolai hesitated, "I would never be in his position.”

        “You’re right. I just wish we knew what game he was playing. Or when he’d show up.” They passed a few moments in silence, both of them drawing closer together, content in the moment, until Nikolai saw a commotion out of the corner of his eye.

        “ I think your wish has been answered, Zoya dear.” Her head jolted upright just as the song ended. There, at the grand doors of the ballroom, was Demidov, looking the part as usual, and next to him stood a man dressed entirely in black.

        “Here we go,” Nikolai murmured. Zoya took his arm with one hand and grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing server’s tray in the other as they crossed the floor towards the men. Nikolai found David and Tolya’s eyes from across the room and gestured towards the ballroom door. They both nodded and Nikolai watched as they found Genya, Tamar and Nadia. Good, it was best that they all got out of here. Knowing the man, he would try to goad them with mentions of their friends, and Nikolai was not in the mood tonight.

        “Mr. Lantsov,” Demidov greeted them cheerfully, clasping Nikolai’s hand in a friendly handshake. “The always radiant Ms. Nazyalenksy,” he smiled, pressing his lips to her knuckles, not seeing the dangerous fire simmering behind her eyes. Only her true friends would ever be able to see how irritated she was by a man she deemed as, ‘having a backbone made of butterscotch pudding.’ He wasn’t fully aware what that meant, but Genya, Nadia and Tolya had agreed serenely when she’d first said it, so he supposed it must make sense.

        “Please, allow me to introduce you to my new campaign manager! This is--”

        “Aleks!” Nikolai exclaimed jovially, not missing the laugh in Zoya’s eyes. “My goodness, it’s been so long.”

        “You know each other?” Demidov said.

        “Oh yes, way back in my university days, but I’m sure you don’t want to hear that story, it’s far too long and features several ballads dedicated to my brilliance. It’s rather a production.”

        “I prefer to go by ‘The Darkling’,” Aleksander interjected coolly, inclining his head at Nikolai in acknowledgement, and resting his eyes on Zoya.

        “Oh,” Zoya started, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing any true emotion on her face. She brought a finger to her chin in mock-contemplation, though no one other than Nikolai and the Darkling would know it. “That’s a strange name, is it French?”

        “No, no. Zoya, I speak French, and whatever it is, it’s not French. Maybe it’s Russian?” Nikolai returned, looking thoughtful. Saints, he was a frighteningly good actor.

        She shrugged, “funny, I’m fluent and I've never heard that before.”

        “Is it not English, Aleksander?” Demidov questioned, clearly puzzled.

        The Darkling ignored them all. Instead he turned to Zoya, “Ms. Nazyalenksy, would you honour me with a dance?”

        “No.” Zoya enunciated clearly, looking directly at him. Nikolai laid a hand on her arm, a small reminder of their larger plan. His phone buzzed in his lapel pocket, and he glanced at it quickly, a message from Tamar, perfectly on time.

        “If you’ll excuse us, we have to take this,” Nikolai said holding up his phone, placing his hand on Zoya’s back, letting her know they were escaping this situation. Demidov nodded a goodbye as Zoya took a final sip from her glass.

        “It was so nice to meet you, Alexi!” she laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder, clearly dismissing him as if she were a queen and he were a mere peasant.

        “Goodnight, enjoy the festivities Aleks,” Nikolai added, nothing but a polite smile on his face as they turned and started towards a sheltered alcove in the corner of the room.

                                                              ---

        Zoya paced back and forth, “I hate everything about this— how could anyone even think to hire him after what he did?” Nikolai frowned, there was a note of desperation in her voice, very unlike Zoya. He knew the crimes of the man as well as the rest of his inner circle, they had all been directly impacted by him, but he knew that Zoya had never forgiven herself for being young, taken in by his seemingly perfect ideology and being unable to see the rot that lay beneath it all. Others who were older, and arguably wiser had been fooled just as easily as they all had, yet Zoya wouldn’t forgive herself, she held herself to a higher standard, he knew what that was like better than anyone else. The reason he’d told her before he’d broken the news to the rest of his staff was because of this, he knew that neither him nor Zoya would ever let that man inflict anymore hurt upon their friends.

        “He did a lot to bury his crimes, only a few people truly know what happened. The general public views them as allegations, not definitive crimes.”

        “Why? They’ve seen the evidence.” Zoya snapped, “they can see it every day.” He could see that she was a tightly wound coil after the news and that she needed a distraction.

        “Shall we share another dance?”

        “What?” she snapped, “Nikolai, I’m not in the mood.”

        “Whatever you say, Nazyalensky, but if you don’t dance with me, I’m 98% sure he’s going to ask you to dance next,” he said nodding towards Kirigin, one of many men who constantly trailed them at functions like this in an attempt to catch Zoya’s attention for a second.

        “Oh god, my options are you and Kirigin?” Zoya rubbed her temples, as much as she wanted to go home and finish a bottle of wine on her own, she knew they had to stay until the party was over. “Fine. Lead the way Lantsov, but I will be stepping on your toes.”