DPOV

I passed out on the couch every night for the rest of the week, not brave enough to even speak to Rose, let alone ask for my room back. You could say I had been avoiding her. The only contact we had was at dinners, and those had become decidedly more awkward as the week progressed. Even tactful Karolina couldn't muster up a conversation.

Tonight was a reprieve from the oppressing dinner tradition that Rose and I had unwittingly started. Tonight was Grigory's party.

Earlier, Rose had left with Viktoria, the two of them finally going out together to "catch up", like they had been promising each other since Rose's second day. I'd had no idea that Rose and Viktoria had been so close in her time here - I hadn't really asked - but evidently Rose had played some pivotal part in Viktoria's suddenly sensible nature. I had my guesses as to what that role might have been, guesses that ranged from Baia's nightlife to strigoi attacks, but regardless, I was grateful.

I crept my way upstairs, avoiding Mama and Yeva. Many of my belongings had been moved down into the lounge room, cluttering the small space, but the clothes I had on hand seemed too casual for tonight.

There was no lock on the bedroom door, and I slipped inside easily. It felt almost like trespassing, although I tried to soothe those thoughts by reminding myself that it had been my room first, and I really had more of a right to it that Rose did. All the same, I made my way quickly over to the closet and grabbed the nicest button down shirt I could find, and a pair of jeans.

As I turned to leave, I noticed the laptop Lissa had given me resting on the bedside table. I barely hesitated before deciding that I owed Lissa this, at least. I perched tentatively on the side of the bed and opened the lid, pausing guiltily as I saw the email notification pop up into the corner of the screen. I composed myself and began to type.

Lissa,

I'm sorry that I haven't been in touch lately, it's just that everything here was going so well. I understand if you're angry with me, but I promise I'm okay, and I'll come back to court as soon as I finish here. It won't be too long, I promise.

D

P.S I promise I'll write - or call, if I can get a hold of that phone - every day from now on.

I hoped it sounded as reassuring and non-committal as I had intended. If Lissa called or e-mailed, demanding I get on the next plane to the U.S, I knew I would feel compelled to leave. I owed her my life.

I can't go back, I thought despairingly, as I closed the laptop and fell back onto the bed. I'll never be a guardian again, what use would I be to her anyway?

Get up. I frowned. There was that voice again, that other side of my head that desperately wanted to heal. It had become more and more persistent since Rose had arrived. I almost resented her for that. This is pathetic. Look at you... lying here...

My frown deepened and I shook my head. I knew that voice was a part of me, and I knew it only wanted to motivate me, but it seemed to do the opposite. It made me want to lie down, to wallow in my self-loathing. And that desire only made the voice louder, more aggressive and more unforgiving.

I recognized the destructive spiral I was heading towards. It took almost all of my will power just to turn my head into the pillow, to try and shut out all those negative thoughts that I knew were about to come hammering down inside my head.

Roza...

The smell of her pillow was so overwhelming - her hair, her perfume - it made my head spin. I reacted like lightning, pushing myself from the bed, my clothes dragging from one fist as I made my way to the door in three quick strides. I pulled the door open and stumbled out into the corridor, leaning against the wall for support.

My eyes were wide and my heart was shot with adrenalin, although I couldn't quite place the feeling that had caused its release. Was I afraid of how she smelled? That didn't seem quite right. I stared back into the room, trying to coax my breathing back into a more normal pace.

Her scent still lingered with me as I hurried my way back downstairs, and as my initial reaction eased off, memories began to dance in my mind. Mostly it was times we had spent training together, and some moments that I remembered being angry with her about some little antic or stunt. The most vivid memory didn't really belong to a particular time or place, it was just the sight of her smile, and the sound of her laugh. They were little things that used to make me happy, before all of this darkness came crashing into our lives.

Our lives, I mused. I hadn't taken a lot of time to consider how my transformation had affected those around me. It was never far from the back of my mind, and the guilt I felt for what I had done - and I suppose, continued to do - to the people I loved was a constant wellspring of self-hatred that the various little angry voice could use against me. But I had never truly, consciously thought of how the last year had impacted on anyone else.

I really hadn't grappled my own feelings, let alone the feelings of others.

Almost instantly, a wave of regret washed over me - not guilt, which was a nice change, but regret.

As if my thoughts had summoned her, I heard the front door open and Rose's voice drift across the entry way. I bounded down the last few stairs and across the kitchen.

"Rose!"

Rose looked up at me, surprised. I hadn't directly addressed her in days.

"Oh, we're talking now, are we?" she asked coolly, folding her arms across her chest. Her stance was defensive, almost as though she expected me to snap at her.

I gave her a long, solemn look and nodded. "If that's alright with you."

She shrugged, then tension in her shoulders easing.

"I just wanted to ask you a favour," I began, throwing a pointed glance at Vika. She removed her shoes and stretched.

"I'm going to get ready for the party. Join me when you're ready Rose, it's kind of semi-formal," she said with a wink.

I felt the blood drain from my face as she left the room.

"What's the favour?" Rose asked nonchalantly.

"What party are you going to?" I asked, brushing away my earlier request.

Rose smiled. "Weird thing to waste a favour on," she commented. "You know, I could totally ask you to take a bullet if I answer that, and you'd have to. You'd owe me."

I frowned, letting her know I wasn't playing.

"An eighteenth, or something. Viktoria didn't really say a lot about it."

I cursed under my breath. Baia wasn't really big enough for me to wonder if they might be going to a different party. Besides, it would only be polite for Irena to invite my family - we were a part of the same community.

"Why are you swearing?" Rose asked, leaning a shoulder against the front door.

I hadn't realized she'd gotten so good at recognising Russian swear words. Perhaps I swore too often. "No reason," I answered, mustering a smile. From her raised eyebrows, I could see she was not convinced. "I'll see you at the party."

My attendance at Grigory's celebration wasn't as enthusiastic as I'd first intended. I gave Irena a quick kiss on the cheek as I entered, which seemed to confuse and please her at the same time, and then I found my way to a relatively quiet corner, from which I could still keep an eye on the front door, and waited.

Irena dropped by frequently, each time her expression growing more and more concerned. I didn't take the drinks that were offered to me, and Irena commended me for my self control, saying something about my health. I didn't entirely listen. It wasn't as though I was refusing drinks through some remarkable show of self restraint, I was just too preoccupied, too... anxious.

Irena stopped at my corner again and gave me a once over, her kind brown eyes finally snapping into something more severe.

"Dimitri, look at me," she demanded.

I spared her a glance and a fake smile, and judging from her frown she saw right through it. I was good at being expressionless, but not so good at trying to fake emotions, apparently.

"Not good enough," she muttered.

She turned and signalled to her mother and brother, then took my arm and led me away from my corner. I made a noise of protest, sparing one last glance over my shoulder at the door way. Somebody was arriving, but as Irena pulled me through the throng of people, I couldn't get a good enough look to determine whether or not it was my family.

Does it really matter? I asked myself ruefully. My concern had been centred around Rose and Irena meeting. If Irena was going to drag me out of the party, there really wouldn't be a lot of opportunities for them to meet. I was a little unsettled by how determined I was to keep them apart. I wasn't ready to tell either of them about the other.

It's not like I'm lying, I reasoned, neither of them have asked. If they did, I would just tell them the truth.

RPOV

The last party I had attended in Baia had been Dimitri's funeral - which had been a strange send off, but hey, better than everybody crying at an empty casket.

Although the atmosphere at this party was significantly lighter, I couldn't help but notice the eerie similarities. The mountain of food was a welcome sight, however, and as soon as I deemed it polite (which means it was probably just shy of courteous), I zoned in on the kitchen table.

I was busy heaping my plate with food when a hand came down on my shoulder. I instinctively stiffened, and probably would have broken a few fingers, had my hands not been full of delicious goodies. Instead, I turned to see a broad, smiling face that I had no trouble recognizing.

"Denis!" I cried, wrapping my arms around the boy. I knew he was about my age - maybe even older - but the time we had spent hunting Strigoi together had made me think of him a young. He certainly didn't look it now.

"I thought you were dead!" he exclaimed with a laugh, hugging me back. When he pulled away, I studied the scar that ran down his cheek.

"Obviously not," I replied with a grin, "it's not that easy to kill a Hathaway. Looks like I could say the same about you."

Denis smiled, but there was a haunted look about it. "Got caught off guard," he admitted. "Although we were a lot more careful after we lost you." He squinted at me curiously, and I could tell he wanted to ask what exactly had happened the night I'd disappeared. I couldn't get past the lump rising in my throat as I thought about it. I shook my head, and he seemed to understand.

"Do you want a drink?" he asked, changing the topic.

"Yes," I answered instantly. It had been a really long time since I'd had a drink, and with memories of Strigoi Dimitri suddenly forcing their way into my head, I felt like I needed one.

As Denis placed a glass in my hand I felt a strange sense of connection with the current, un-strigoi Dimitri that I'd been so judgemental about. True, I'd never thought Dimitri capable of holing up and ignoring his responsibilities, but I couldn't begin to imagine what it must have been like for him, having all of those memories - so many more than I had.

I stared wistfully down at the glass, then handed it back to Denis. "I changed my mind."

"You always were so responsible. Tamara really admired you for that."

The sad lilt in his voice and the grief in his eyes rendered my next question redundant. I looked down at the floor between us. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Like I said, we were caught off guard."

"The others?" I asked carefully.

He smiled the same haunted smile as before. "I think they left me because the figured I'd die anyway. They're all… dead now."

I paused. "Dead?"

"Yeah," he looked at me stubbornly. "Dead. Dead is better."

I was quiet for a moment, letting the information sink in. I knew that in Baia, dead and Strigoi were basically the same thing. Denis was pretending not to, but he obviously knew the difference.

"Yes it is," I replied. I took back my drink and downed it.

I wouldn't say that I was drunk when Denis and I finally parted ways. Tipsy. Three shots of the firey vodka had set my head on a slow, clockwise spin, but I wasn't about to keel over. I was meandering through the crowd, some of whom obviously recognized me. They greeted me warmly, although most of them looked very confused. I didn't understand a lot of the comments that were directed my way, probably because most of them were said in slurred Russian.

It wasn't until I came face to face with the birthday boy that someone said something in a language I could understand.

"You're name is Rose, yes?" the boy asked. I vaguely recalled Viktoria telling me his name.

"Sure is," I replied with a jaunty grin. "You must be Grigory."

"Yes."

Sombre little shit, I thought to myself. I wasn't in the mood for any more downers after my conversation with Denis, so I offered Grigory a mock salute and turned on my heel.

"Later, birthday boy," I tossed over my shoulder.

A hand closed around my wrist, and even with a little alcohol in my system, I managed to resist the urge to toss the kid into a wall.

"I think you should leave," Grigory said calmly. It's not like he was being rude, although his hand was certainly and unwelcome accessory, but it felt like a threat.

I laughed. It was like my first night in Baia all over again. Party with a lot of food and weird glances, rocket fuel as a drink, and a stranger threatening me.

Grigory frowned at my response. "I know you. You're the American that was in love with Dimitri. I was at his funeral. He doesn't want you any more, you know. He's marrying Irena."

The smile I was wearing faltered for a moment, before I plastered it back across my face. "I don't know what you mean," I replied smoothly. And really, I didn't. That comment was just confusing. "I said 'later'."

I wrenched my wrist out of his grasp and stalked across the room, grabbing another glass of vodka on my way. I quickly determined the best route of exit, and headed out into the less crowded hall way.

"They make houses big around here," I muttered in complaint. Viktoria had mentioned something about the bigger houses coming as gifts from royal moroi. There was plenty of land around Baia waiting to be built on, and what kind of man wouldn't at least provide a roof for his children?

All the same, I grumbled as I passed a small line for the bathroom. The crowd was thinning out even further when I reached a door that looked like it probably belonged to a bedroom. Of course, anyone at a party with copious amounts of alcohol should probably knock on all bedroom-like doors before entering.

Honestly, I couldn't give a damn.

I slammed open the door like I was expecting to find them, standing there so wrapped up in each other that they hadn't even heard me coming. They broke their kiss and sprang apart like embarrassed teenagers.

A hot rush of anger filled me, despite my best efforts to stamp it down. I think Dimitri knew me well enough to recognize it, but he did nothing. He just stood there, looking at me with a strange expression I didn't recognize. I looked between him and the blonde girl – whom I could only assume was Irena – and they both looked back. Irena looked a little confused, and I wondered if she recognized me, like Grigory. She glanced at Dimitri, but he continued to stare at me, his expression hardening into a familiar mask of disapproval. I barely contained myself.

"Sorry," I said coldly. I stepped out of the room and slammed the door.