First impressions were called that for a reason. Often they were completely incorrect. But sometimes what you saw was what you got. So it went with the twins. Being the best female Novice at St. Basil's, Elizaveta considered herself God's gift to fighting and dropped numerous unsubtle comments to remind the others, but particularly Meredith and I, where she felt we stood in relation to her.

Artyom was as sweet and sensitive as his sister wasn't. He was also into me in a major way. It was a little annoying, although he was harmless enough. If anything, it was cute seeing the way his persistent attentions irritated Dimitri!

They'd been here three days, and I was outside with Meredith chopping wood. As per almost every aspect of our days, this had been rostered by my mother. Dimitri had been right – we did need a lot of wood to keep the wood fired stove burning – so on the days Novices weren't training with him, we'd be rostered to chop wood. It was good exercise, and I didn't mind it. It was also far enough away from the house that you could talk without being overheard.

"So how good is she?" I asked Meredith. The training combinations varied, and so far I hadn't been rostered to train with Elizaveta, so I wasn't sure just how good a fighter she was. But we were due to train with Dimitri tomorrow morning, so I wanted the low down on what to expect.

"She's fast," Meredith said, "but I think your punches are stronger. And she uses moves I've not seen before, although you might know them from Belikov," she consoled. "First round she had me down in about four minutes," Meredith admitted ruefully. "The second time it took her about six minutes."

I nodded to myself, walking across to pick up another log to split.

"Did Dimitri give you much direction or spar with either of you?" I asked, trying to be subtle in my inquiries.

"Heaps of directions, although more for me than her. He didn't spar with either of us – just made us practice moves against one another."

I smiled internally. I'd seen Dimitri spar Artyom yesterday, and pin him in about a minute. Of course, my Russian God had known I was watching – and I was sure I hadn't imagined the smug expression when he'd annihilated the young man in an androcentric display that seemed to have more in common with a peacock showing off his feathers than any sort of teaching.

"He really is a God, isn't he?" Meredith commented.

I had my back to Meredith so allowed myself a little smile. "Yeah, he's a hell of a fighter," I replied, not voicing my other thoughts about the Godlike Dimitri.

Hauling the logs inside to the mudroom and kitchen, Meredith went upstairs to shower, while I plonked myself down at the kitchen table to watch Dimitri instruct Eddie and Artyom how to cook. The latter was already quite proficient, so Dimitri had him making bread while he and Eddie focused on preparing the crumbed chicken, mashed potato and steamed vegetables we'd be having for dinner.

Watching my love, I had to wonder whether this is how it would be if we lived together - in the kitchen side by side. I'd only had one cooking lesson so far with Dimitri, but it had been fun. He wasn't teaching us anything amazing – just simple, nourishing home cooking that could be prepared relatively quickly and easily. Still, my Russian God's food left the Academy's for dead. Even when he'd used the bag of premade meatballs in sauce provided by the Academy, he'd simmered it for hours, adding bacon, fresh tomatoes, and herbs, resulting in a rich, flavorsome sauce. Served with pasta and homemade garlic bread, it had been so much better than the bland spaghetti and meatballs we'd endured at the school.

"Shower's free if you want to freshen up before dinner," Meredith said coming back downstairs. Blake and Elizaveta were in the library going over some theory with Stan, and Mom was in the study adding to her report to submit to Court.

Mom and Stan had led the other Novices to the ranger's cabin on Thursday while Dimitri and I collected the twins. Yesterday, Dimitri had done a hiking surveillance mission with Artyom and Blake while the rest of us had teaching intensives with Mom and Stan. Eddie and Meredith had copped Stan, while Elizaveta and I had been with Mom. She'd gone through the protocols of dealing with Alchemists, which was interesting given we were staying at one of their locations.

So far, we'd seen no sign of anyone. We'd been warned to stay away from the 'main building' which we eventually divined was a large structure concealed almost entirely underground. Situated in the direct center of the huge fenced enclosure, all that could be seen of the building was an angled thick concrete roof about two foot above the ground at its highest. With foot-high windows just under the roofline on one side, a set of concrete stairs on each side leading to what appeared to be reinforced steel doors, and a reinforced double garage door with a driveway running to it, it looked impregnable. We really had no reason to go anywhere near it, so had left the structure entirely alone.

"Actually, I thought I might go for a run," I said casually, watching Dimitri's reaction from the corner of my eye. I could see he'd almost finished the preparations he was doing with Eddie.

"I'll join you, Rose," he quickly volunteered. "Castile, you can stay here and help Vitsin with the bread and rolls," he ordered, effectively thwarting the two likely to want to come with us.

I had to laugh. Artyom was clearly unhappy about missing an opportunity to spend time with me. I was already in sweats, as was Dimitri, so we headed out the back door without delay.

"Jog to the other side of the enclosure – we'll do our warm up stretches there," he muttered, and I immediately complied. While Elizaveta had shown no interest in Dimitri per se, she was annoyingly ready to volunteer for any extra opportunities to work with my Russian God or my mother. If she'd witnessed us warming up, there was a good chance she'd want to join us.

"Alone at last!" I moaned as we stopped at the furthest point from the house. The fenced area was enormous, so we were well out of sight of either of the buildings.

"Yes," Dimitri grinned, grasping me around the waist and pulling me against him beneath the rays of the red, red sun. "I've missed you so much!" he growled, peppering my face and lips with delicate kisses.

"I've missed you, too!" I replied, standing on my tiptoes to brush my lips against his. "This living with other people is hell! I hate not being able to touch you or have our privacy."

"I hate watching Vitsin throw himself at you," Dimitri growled.

"Throw himself?" I laughed, nuzzling against my man's chest. "More like give me a couple of hopeful looks."

"I don't like it," Dimitri grumbled mulishly.

"You don't need to worry. All my thoughts center around a tall, handsome Russian Guardian. He's the only one I want to spend my time with."

"I hope so," Dimitri said, sounding a little anxious. "I know three months is a long time when I can't show you how much I love you."

"You show me every day," I said, and I meant it. Whether it was a loving look or a whispered word, we'd been able to reassure one another we still cared.

"So I'll be training with you and Elizaveta tomorrow," I said as we reluctantly broke apart and started our stretches. "How good is she?"

"Pretty good," he said. "She's St. Basil's top female student for a reason."

My heart sank. I didn't think I was the best fighter in the world or anything, but I'd become used to Dimitri's praise, and I didn't like the idea of another Novice getting it instead.

"Any clues for when we spar? I'd hate to be wiped out straight off without putting up a decent fight…" I said leadingly.

"Watch her right punch. She does a mean double punch, but almost always precedes it with a shoulder roll. She favors her right foot to kick and always follows a left punch with a right kick. If she punches high, she kicks low and visa versa."

"Ok," I replied tersely starting our run, leaving Dimitri to hurriedly catch up and run alongside.

"Is something wrong, Roza?" he asked, wondering why I'd taken off and left him standing.

"No," I said in a tone of voice that clearly said yes.

"Roza? What is it?"

"Nothing," I replied a little more gently. How could I tell him that I'd hoped he'd reassure me that I was better than Elizaveta, and instead he'd given me a list of things that proved he'd been paying close attention to her fight style? I didn't like him observing another Novice so carefully, particularly a girl. But it sounded petty – even to me!

I felt a little better after our third lap around the inner perimeter of the property. While we were doing a bit of physical activity at the property, it was less than I was used to and I found myself getting angsty if I didn't work out enough. We were about to cross the driveway to the main house when we heard the garage door in the main building open.

"Don't stop and look," Dimitri ordered. "Keep running and don't turn to look at the car – our instructions were very specific."

"Got it," I said, staring straight ahead but still seeing a car emerge from the underground garage and drive down the driveway toward the gate. We kept running, coming around to the gates just in time to see them closing, the rear of the car only just discernable in the distance.

"I'd wondered if there really were people here," I commented. Other than the guy Mom spoke to the first day, there'd been no sign the property was occupied by anyone else.

"We'll do another lap, then go back and report this to your Mom," Dimitri announced, picking up the pace for our final lap. We raced side-by-side, ending up panting at the back door, both feeling happier for having pushed our muscles a little – but more due to the time alone together.

We walked inside together, both stopping to gulp down tall glasses of water Artyom had thoughtfully set out on the butcher's block in the center of the kitchen.

"Guardian Hathaway still in the study?" Dimitri asked, thankfully not glaring at the besotted young man.

"Yes I believe so," Artyom said, giving a hopeful smile in my direction that Dimitri missed.

"Right let's report in," Dimitri said, leading the way to the study.

"… So there we were, all of us running around chasing this pig! My mother was furious we'd let it escape, and then she fell in the mud. I thought she was going to lose it, then, but instead, she ended up throwing mud at my father and me!" my mother was recounting to Elizaveta, the two sitting in the library on adjacent sofas nearly crying with laughter.

"Sorry to interrupt your amusing family stories," I said, my voice arctic, "but Guardian Belikov and I have some information to report in."

My mother looked up, a brief look of chagrin passing across her features before she quickly pulled up her Guardian façade.

"Thank you Novice Vitsin," she said with a kindly smile in what was clearly a dismissal.

Elizaveta gave Mom a smile and departed, leaving an awkward silence in her wake. Dimitri stepped in, reporting what we'd witnessed – essentially a car leave the compound. My mother asked a couple of questions, then the awkward silence returned.

"I'm going to shower and start cooking dinner," Dimitri said casually, turning to leave. I tried to follow, but my mother stopped me.

"Rosemarie?" she started.

I turned to look at her.

"I was just telling Elizaveta a funny story about growing up on the farmstead," she said by way of explanation. "She and Artyom grew up on a farm as well."

I shrugged, trying to conceal my hurt.

"Tell your stories to whoever you want," I said. "It's not like they mean anything to me. I mean – until Tuesday I didn't know you grew up on a farm and I didn't realize you knew your father. In fact, I don't even know my grandparent's names," I said turning to leave. I was walking through the doorway to the entrance hall when I added in a quiet voice that I knew she'd still hear, "Maybe I should ask Elizaveta?"

I took off up the stairs to the bathroom I shared with the other women. Turning the key in the lock, I turned on the shower and let the water run, concealing any sound of my angry tears.

I couldn't believe my mother had been telling stories to someone else, yet had never bothered to share any of that information with me. I mean – I'd always known my mother and I were little better than strangers, but it was humiliating when we were here together, yet she still chose to share family information with others, not me.

Stepping into the shower, not for the first time I wondered about my extended family. Beyond the very basics – that Mom had grown up in Scotland and attended St. Christopher's – I knew not a thing about her family. I thought her parents were deceased, but now I thought about it maybe they weren't. I'd just assumed because she'd never mentioned them and would clam up whenever I asked.

She'd been similarly unforthcoming when I'd questioned her about my paternity. All she'd said about my father was that he was Moroi (duh!) and Turkish. I wasn't even sure how they'd met, although I seem to recall Mom had worked in Europe when she first graduated.

When I was younger I used to imagine my mother and father as victims of a tragic love story; young lovers ripped apart by circumstance, a dark haired, dark eyed baby the only remnant of their love. With the wisdom of years, I now appreciated I was probably the result of a one night stand.

I took my time in the shower, none too keen to go down and see my mother again. Washing my hair, putting in a deep conditioner before then shaving my underarms and legs, I was almost pruney by the time I stepped out and dried off. I'd been in such a hurry to get to the bathroom I hadn't brought any fresh clothes with me, and I didn't want to dress in the sweats I'd chopped wood and then exercised in.

Knowing everyone was probably downstairs getting ready for dinner, I took the chance of firmly wrapping myself in my towel, ready to make the dash down the balconied hallway to my bedroom.

I was almost at my doorway when I heard footsteps on the stairs, and turned to see Artyom near the landing, looking at me in a way that was not innocent. His eyes raked from my face, down over the towel, lingering on my bare legs. Unfortunately three steps behind him on the stairs was Dimitri. Artyom's gaze was positively brotherly compared to the one Dimitri gave me – but then I suppose Dimitri knew exactly what the length of cotton toweling concealed!

"Novice Vitsin! It's expected that you avert your eyes if you come across any of the ladies of this residence in a state of undress!" Dimitri barked, following up his rebuke with what appeared to be several scathing comments in Russian.

The younger man blushed bright red, and quickly stammered an apology, dropping his eyes to the carpet.

"I'm sorry!" I gasped, "I forgot to take fresh clothes to the shower," I explained, letting myself into my room and carefully closing the door behind me. I leaned against the door and let out a little giggle. Poor Artyom! Dimitri had obviously given him a dressing down in Russian, which I couldn't help but think was a little hypocritical given Dimitri had looked as though he wanted to ravish me on the spot.

Oh if only, I thought as I pulled out fresh underwear and my last pair of clean cargos and a sweater. I'd have to do some washing tomorrow I realized with a sigh. Brushing through my wet hair, I left it out hoping it would dry before bedtime. We tended to gather as a group in the library in the evenings, so I'd sit by the fireplace to try and speed up the process.

I took the stairs two at a time, clambering into the kitchen just in time to see Elizaveta and Eddie setting out the plates. Dimitri was presiding at the range, setting the chicken onto platters for Blake and Meredith to ferry to the table. Mom and Stan were already seated, so rather than join them I filled the water jugs and brought them to the table, doubling back to fetch glasses.

Artyom came back in as I returned to the table, so we both quickly seated ourselves. I tried to give him a friendly smile to show him I wasn't angry about the towel incident, but the poor guy was looking anywhere but at me. That made things a little awkward as I was looking anywhere but at my mother.

We ate mostly in silence, breaking the quiet only to thank Dimtri, Artyom, and Eddie for the food. Mom raised a Guardian discussion with Guardian Alto, assiduously avoiding looking at either Elizaveta or me. The former was trying to catch her brother's eye, but he was likewise avoiding looking in her direction. I glanced up to see Dimitri looking self-satisfied, and made a mental note to ask him exactly what he'd said to Artyom in Russian.

Our meal over, it was Blake and Meredith's turn to do the dishes, so they got started while the rest of moved across to the library, Stan stoking the fireplace until a warm blaze was roaring in the hearth. The house didn't have a television, so we'd got into the habit of sitting in the library together of an evening – playing cards, reading or talking.

I wasn't in the mood for reading, so I pulled out my phone and texted Liss. She replied a few times but then had to stop as she and Christian were meeting Adrian for breakfast.

I sighed, thoroughly bored. My mother was still avoiding my gaze, and Dimitri was flicking his eyes between her and me, giving me looks that clearly suggested I was being childish about the situation – which of course only angered me further. So plastering a man-eater smile on my face, I plonked myself down on the hearth next to Artyom, saying loud enough I knew everyone would be able to hear me.

"So I hear you grew up on a farm. That must have been fun? Why don't you tell me all about it?"