Dear Diary,

It's horrible, having a problem and no one to discuss it with. Normally I would go to my brother for advice, but this… it's something I cannot even talk about with him—because I don't want to involve him in the situation. When all hell breaks loose—and it inevitably will—I want Ivan free and clear of the fallout. So even though he knows there is something wrong, every time he asks, I just smile and deny it, sending him on his way.

I've tried to hide how mixed up I'm feeling from my family, and it worked at first, but I'm starting to slip up. It's hard to pretend there's nothing wrong when it's always on my mind—it affects me even when I try to ignore it, in little unforeseen ways. Papa and Mama have noticed I'm not eating much—I have no appetite—and even Auntie Vik has commented on my ever increasing mood swings. Tonight, I could feel them all watching me in silence as I picked at my dinner, so I asked to be excused as soon as possible, retreating here to the quite comfort of my room to share my troubles with you.

A sudden knock at the door pulled me out of my writing. I tensed, clutching my pencil so tightly that it broke in my hand. Closing my eyes, I waited for whoever it was to get the hint and go away. Had it been Ivan or Papa, they would have understood that my not responding meant that I wanted solitude—but as luck would have it, it was the one person who wouldn't go away.

"Anya?" The door opened a few inches—my mother peered through the crack. "I'm coming in."

I sighed, closing my journal and hiding it away in my nightstand. "What did I do now?"

"Nothing… I just wanted to spend some time with you." She nudged the door open with her elbow—her hands were full, holding a covered tray. She set it down, dramatically removing the cover to reveal an enormous slab of chocolate cake, smothered in whipped cream. "When I was your age…sometimes when I was feeling glum… dessert helped. A lot."

"I'm not glum…well… not exactly." I scooted over, making room for her—watching her warily as she settled down beside me. It's not that I don't love my mother—I do—we just tend to fight like cats and dogs.

"That comes with the territory, kiddo. It's part of being a teenager." She pulled the tray into her lap, handing me a fork. "You know… I've always tried to be a kinda progressive parent. Partially because… when it comes right down to it, I don't have an example to fall back on. You know I was practically an orphan until I was eighteen. I've never known how a mother is supposed to act… so I've had to make it up as I went."

I played with the fork, frowning. I don't like thinking about her being all alone—not having a family to depend on. "You've done okay, Mama. Really."

"One of the most important things I've always tried to do is to give you and Ivan the freedom to make your own choices about certain things. You're smart and you have good sense, so I don't see the point in railroading you into doing things you don't want to." She stabbed her fork into the cake, glancing over at me. "So… you can either choose to talk to me about whatever it is that's bothering you… or you can keep it all bottled up inside. But I'll say this—when I was your age, I had a pretty big secret… and there's nothing I wanted more than someone to share it with."

Her statement intrigued me; she was always so open about everything—it was hard for me to imagine her holding a secret inside or not sharing it with Aunt Lissa. I took a tiny forkful of cake, chewing it slowly. "What was it? Your secret?"

She scooped up a forkful of whipped cream, examining it with a thoughtful expression on her face. "You already know it, sweetie. I was in love with a dhampir who was seven years older than me—and my mentor."

"Oh." I frowned, feeling stupid—obviously that was the one thing she couldn't tell my godmother.

"Yeah… pretty racy stuff, all things considered. I couldn't even talk to Liss about the first time I… you know." She wiggled her eyebrows up and down.

I blushed. "When did that happen? If you don't mind—"

"You're old enough to hear about it. It happened right before my eighteenth birthday. On the night Saint Vlad's was attacked. We'd just finished and were heading back to the Academy when we realized the wards had been breached." Her eyes dropped to the cake; she set her fork down.

I studied her, taking in the haunted look in her eyes; I couldn't imagine what it must it have been like, losing my father right after they'd come together in such a manner—just thinking about it made my heart twist painfully in my chest. I reached over, taking her hand, lacing my fingers through hers. "It's okay Mama… we don't have to talk about it."

"I'm sorry… it just still hurts. A lot." She glanced over at me, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "I hope you never have to experience anything like that, baby. Having someone you love ripped away from you."

I dropped my eyes to our hands, trying to work up my courage. She would understand what I was going through since she'd experienced it firsthand—loving someone she wasn't supposed to—though she'd found a happy ending. The same was impossible for me, for a very different reason. That reason was what made me hesitant to speak—I was scared how she would react to something so taboo. "Mama… I'm in love."

"I thought that might be it," she said, her voice a soft whisper. "But that's a good thing, Anya, something to be happy about—"

"You don't understand!" I jerked my hand free—trying not to cry. "I'm in love… with Zach—with my cousin!" I was expecting shock and horror at my confession, but what I got was something else entirely.

Mama… giggled.

"It's not funny!" I swiped at my eyes, scowling ferociously. "I know you're going to say that it's just puppy love or a crush but that's not it at all Mama! I love him—really love him—and there's nothing I can do about it!"

She pursed her lips, trying to hold in her amusement, but it refused to be contained. Her shoulders shook; she made the strangest noise—a mix between choking and laughter. It made me want to hit her.

"I'm sorry—" she wheezed, "—but sweetie… you're fretting over nothing!"

"It's not nothing! I tell you I love Zach… someone I can never be with… and you laugh at me!" I couldn't hide the anguish I felt—it echoed in my voice.

She heard it—her smile faded as she got control of herself, her amusement abruptly fading. "Who says you can't be with him?"

"He's my cousin, Mama!"

"Not by blood."

I stared at her, not comprehending the distinction. "What?"

"Honey… you know Vika adopted Zach when he was an infant. She's not his biological mother… so he's not your cousin by blood. You're not blood related to Adrian—he became your uncle when he married Vika."

"But—"

"There is no 'but'. Hell… if you want to get technical, most Royals are distant blood relations to whoever they marry—Liss and Christian are like fourth or fifth cousins and that didn't stop them. There's nothing stopping you from being with Zach, sweetheart—he's your cousin by marriage… that's all." She reached out, wiping away my tears with her palm.

"I thought…" I blinked rapidly, trying to process and come to grips with what she'd said. In the blink of an eye, everything I'd been struggling with had been turned upside down—it left me practically speechless. "I thought you'd be upset. That you'd think I was disgusting or something."

"You were wrong—nothing would make me happier than the two of you ending up together. It's something your Aunt and I have been talking about since the two of you were little." She smoothed my hair back, then hesitated for a second or two before shoving the tray off her lap—pulling me into her arms as it clattered to the floor. I buried my face in her neck, tears still flowing—only now they were tears of relief.

"Little duck…" she crooned softly, "there is nothing you could ever do that would make me think less of you. You can always talk to me about anything—remember that. I won't judge you—and nothing you could ever say would make me turn my back on you. You're our little miracle—and I love you more than anything in the world… I hope you know that." Her hushed words and the use of my childhood nickname made me cry harder as I clung to her; I practically crawled into her lap as if I were still a tiny child. "Anya… I know I haven't always been here when you needed me, and I'm sorry for that—"

"Mama…you don't have to—"

"Shhhh…. Let me talk—this is something I've been wanting to say for a long, long time. I wanted to be here every single moment… you have to understand that. It hurt me so much to leave you… more than you'll ever know… but I had to work too. It was important—not for me… but for you. For every woman of our kind. I had to prove that we weren't confined by the ideals that the Moroi laid out for us. I had to show them that we could have it all, just the way the Moroi women do." Her voice broke; a hushed sob escaped her. " I did it so no other women would ever feel the pain that my mom did when she walked away and abandoned me so she could fulfill her promise to the Moroi. So that no more children would grow up feeling way I did when I was a kid, alone and completely unloved—like there's something wrong with them or they aren't worth keeping."

I could feel her body shaking as she held me—her tears were hot as they hit my skin. "I finally did it…I broke the mold, baby. I proved it, and now… now they know that it's possible for a guardian to have love and a family without abandoning their duty. That may not mean much to you right now… but someday… I hope you'll understand. I sacrificed a lot… and so did you and your brother… but it had to be done. For you and for your daughters and their daughters too—for future generations of dhampir women."

The enormity of her statement humbled me; as immature and selfish as I can often be, I understood the importance of what she had selflessly forfeited. For years I'd huffed and pouted, sulking and harboring a grudge whenever she was been called away by her duty to my aunt; as I grew older, I hurled it in her face, telling her she was just like Grandma Janine—abandoning her children in favor of the Moroi. I never stopped to consider the tears she shed whenever she and Papa left us, or how tightly she clung to me—as if she were afraid she might never see me again. I'd never once stopped to consider how much it hurt her to spend any length of time away from brother and me—how hard it was for her to leave the family she'd longed for since she was a little girl. Every time she left us, it killed a piece of her—I could see it in her eyes—but she did it because she had to…in order to make our world a better place.

It hit me then… a sudden realization. I'd always known she was strong and brave—but her words made me see it in an entirely new way. She was the strongest, bravest woman in the world—and I was so, so lucky to have her. "I understand Mama… really I do. And I'm sorry for all the times I compared you to grandma. You're not like her… you were there for us all the time—more than a lot of parents are. I hope that when I have children… I'm as good a mother as you've always been."

She sighed, pressing her lips against my head; the tension drained out of her body even as her arms tightened around me. "Thank you, little duck. You don't know how much that means to me."

She began rocking me, humming softly, the way she used to do when she tucked me into bed at night. I closed my eyes, nuzzling against her neck. Gentle moments like this with my Mama were rare, which made me cherish them even more.

" I love you, Utochka. Forever and ever." She whispered. "My beautiful, precious little miracle."

Her words sounded hazy and far away; I was slowly drifting off , lulled by the warmth of her body and the sweet sound of her voice—completely drained by the strength of my emotions. I tried to muster up the proper response, but it was simply too great an effort. She chuckled softly, then shifted—stretching us out side by side. I fell asleep with her arms still holding me close—wrapped up in her protective embrace, and when I dreamed, it was about being swathed in the enormity of her unfathomable, neverending love for me.

I love you Mama. For Always.

—Anya Vasilisa Belikova