Temper me in fire

by voldobaby

AU: The world of Moroi and Dhampirs is very different, political turmoil has opened up a vacuum in which illegal and immoral actions can transpire, such as slavery of Dhampirs. Rosemarie Hathaway is born into slavery in Arizona. Her life revolves around tending to her chores and making herself inconspicuous. But that all changes when Mr.Dashkov and his Guardians arrive

69. Chapter 67

RPOV

From the moment I opened my eyes, mouth a little too dry, head a little too heavy, I'd been caught in a whirlwind of instructions. I was showered, baby smooth, moisturized and in Natalie's suite before I'd properly orientated myself, but seeing the team of people gathered there quickly brought me around.

Lissa arrived as my hair was being rolled up onto my head with a mocha between my hands.

"Good look. Suits you." She joked before Natalie physically pushed her into a seat.

"We're make-up first and hair second. Rose's gonna take longer because she has so much of it."

I wonder what time she's been up from to transform this place into a salon and when she got to bed. She couldn't have had much more sleep than me.

I cradle my mug and begin sifting through the events for the past nine hours

I'd slammed the door in his face. I'd locked him out instead of in.

I don't regret it. I don't like it, but I don't regret it.

Before we came here, we thought the difficulty would be in spending time together, in sneaking away from the world around us. But the reality is and always has been, the difficulty lies in the world around us. It was Stan Alto, and Natalie's friends, who would politely say snide things. It was missing Lissa because she spent her time with him and I couldn't bring myself to endure it, not even for her. It's Dimitri shackled to Victor's agenda where spending time with her wasn't just contained in a private space – it had to be displayed and played out in front of everyone, so it was inescapable. It was trying to hold onto each other in a world that was set on keeping us apart, and right now it feels like it's succeeding. I'd had enough.

I'd fucking had enough.

I know he will have his reasons. I know that but it still didn't lessen the weight of the final straw.

He owns a phone. That's what my mind always comes back to and what keeps the fire churning.

I've had enough, and I'm done waiting for the next thing to knock me back.

It was my turn to be the impact, the shock to the system.

"What is that smirk about?" Lissa asks from the corner of her mouth as a woman paints her lips.

"Isssss it about where you slipped off to last night?" Natalie adds with her eyes closed.

"I went back to my room." Natalie makes an 'mhmmm' noise. "It was a good party but when people started arguing I didn't want to stick around. I'm pretty sure Mason was to ask me on a date or something…or kiss me and I told you both I don't want that."

Natalie blindly flaps a hand in my direction, the Moroi working on her frowns. "I knew he was going to try something. You looked too good not to."

I don't like how she puts it, that me looking a certain way means something has to be tried.

"You need to set him straight." Lissa says, "I know it's awkward, but it'll be fine afterwards. Mason won't be a jerk."

Mason being a jerk at Thanksgiving comes to mind.

"But wouldn't you want to have like, a casual thing? Like a banker and you can just make withdraws when you feel like."

"Natalie."

"What? What's wrong with friends with –"

"Natalie!"

" - light benefits. But maybe you prefer someone taller, a little more arrogant and a lot richer. I couldn't help but notice that when you left, Adrian disappeared not long after."

"Adrian left because Andre was being a shit-stirrer and pitting people against each other." Lissa defends. "Also, it was mostly our year, there weren't many people he would like to hang out with."

"He wanted to hang out with our Rose." Natalie sings, "Right?"

Well, if there was ever going to be an opportunity to tell them…

"Natalie." Lissa's voice is harder than before. "Do you want to exercise a little decorum and awareness of our surroundings, please?"

I understand what she means as the two people working on Lissa and I exchange a quick look. Natalie doesn't see because her eyes are closed.

This place and its need for whispers and gossip.

Well, I could at least control the beginning of this one about me instead of waiting for a crowd to do it.

"Actually…I do prefer Adrian's company, as my friend and only as my friend. Which is why I'm going with him tonight."

Natalie's face turns so fast that the brush working on her eye streaks a line to her temple. The woman poised in front of her doesn't notice at first because she staring at me but then she quickly grabs a wipe.

"What?" Lissa breaks first. "You're both doing what?"

I explain, keeping to those simple, key facts and not giving either of our motivations or secrets away.

"I thought you were kidding the other day," Natalie says, sounding somewhere close to being annoyed but not quite there. "Does daddy know about this? Did he make him ask?"

"Nat." Lissa says pointedly again.

"Nope. Adrian wants to go with a friend instead of a stranger and I thought my dress deserved extra attention. And I don't want to stand with Andre and watch you all, why should I be left out and let you two have all the fun?"

"Rose, you're going to have a lot of attention. A lot of attention. Do you realise that?" Lissa asks.

The person working on my hair switches places with the one doing her make-up, and I pick my words carefully.

"Yes, I know. We talked about it and Adrian promised to not leave me stranded. I know it will annoy some people but isn't this event about everyone getting along? So, they can keep their opinions to themselves and if they don't, I'll stand up for myself. And it's not like I'm going to the only one – Dimitri and Natasha will be there."

Natalie looks worried as her ebony hair is sectioned out by the stylist. "You need to tell Daddy."

"Oh, we will." I say, taking another drink to calm the flutter of anxiety in my gut. "Rhea knows or she should. Adrian said she would have to tell her because of the order of things or something."

"Yes, the formation we all enter in, who each partner switches to – it's been planned for a month and this… well this kinda screws it up."

The feeling in my gut spikes but thankfully Lissa jumps in, "Nat, it will be fine. My mom thrives under pressure and expects last-minute changes and stuff. It's the highlight of her year."

Natalie mutters something that sounds like 'whatever'.

Hot drinks are swapped out for soft alcoholic ones and paired with pastries to line our stomachs.

Lissa whispers under louder exchanges she's glad about what we're doing, that she has a good feeling and with me, it won't be as dull as last year. I know she's partly trying to reassure me, worried I'm nervous and I am but not the kind that threatens to make me crumble.

I love her for it all the same.

"There." The Dhampir working on my make-up announces proudly, standing back to assess her work. "Perfect."

I smile, feeling the veil of products on my face, the heavier sweep of my eyelashes and the satin on my lips.

I have armour on again, just like Halloween.

My hairs unspooled and combed out, heavy thick curl curls falling down my back.

The Moroi seamstress sweeps in as Lissa is pouring me another glass of pink champagne. She looks exhausted, handing off the garment bags to Natalie and I'd feel guilty if she didn't throw me a look that encompassed how I've been looked at most of my life.

So, I smile at her instead.

"If these aren't perfect, we're so screwed. Wouldn't that just be exactly what we need?"

"I mean, I'm down to go in jeans," Lissa says with forced brightness. "You always said if your hair and make-up are done the rest doesn't matter."

"For a dorm party," Natalie replies in a flat voice. "Rose, you should try yours on first seeing she was being the most difficult about it."

"If it doesn't fit, I brought my black dress."

Natalie starts laughing like I made a joke and I try to ignore the small kernel of hurt it breeds.

I thank the women that have been helping us and ask Lissa to come with me to the bathroom.

"Rose, I need to ask you something about Adrian so please don't – "

She collides with my shoulder.

Not for the first time does the mirror shock me.

My skin, like Lissa's, is like freshly polished glass. A glow high on my cheeks, eyes shaped by brown and gold shadow, not rounded by innocence but lidded with mystery and allure. Around my shoulders, my hair is a thick tumble of curls.

Beside me Lissa glows - cheeks kissed by rose petals, lips matching, gold hair curled and pinned into a bun at the nape of her neck, tendrils loose around her face and perfectly offset by her emerald eyes under wispy eyelashes.

"You look – " We both say in unison and then laugh. Somehow that makes everything perfect.

I close the door and hang up the bag on the back, setting the bag I'd brought from my room on the floor.

"What did you need to ask?"

"I know you like Adrian, and I know all three of us have an understanding but…Rose, he still has a reputation and it's not all made up. I just don't want –"

"Liss." I take her hands. "I have no interest in Adrian like that, or he with me. I wouldn't be around him otherwise." I give her fine hands a light squeeze, "You can tell that."

She presses her lips together, "I don't know everything though, it doesn't work like that and depending on it is irresponsible. And whatever this is, it's not…it's not easily controlled."

I search her face, "Has it gotten bad again?"

She shakes her head, "No, no, that's not what I meant, I have it handled enough that I don't need to do that. I promise."

Because she's been with Christian, who makes her happy, who understands and who she probably loves. Someone who is part of this world, accepted by it.

I take a deep breath, nodding. "And I promise, you have nothing to be worried about with Adrian. I understand tonight is going to piss people off. I know one of the main people will be his dad, but we're prepared for that. I don't care what Moroi like Nathan say about me anymore because…it's not true."

She still looks concerned.

"Trust me." I urge her because I need it. I need to know someone else thinks I can do this, that I'm not putting myself into something that will rip me up or make me fold in.

Lissa searches my face, holding my hands tighter, before nodding and pulling me into a hug.

"If anyone makes you feel like you don't belong there you remember that you are part of our families. That my mother, who hates confrontation, will more than happily let them have it and you've seen what I do to people who dare insinuate what they shouldn't. If Adrian lets you down, I will never forgive him."

I can't speak for a moment, any doubt born from Natalie's reaction erased.

"I love you," I tell her softly. "I really do."

And I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I can't tell you the truth, I'm sorry.

But Liss can only feel the truth of said words, not the truth of ones I hold back.

"I love you, too." She returns with sincerity and then she takes a deep breath, letting go. "Now, get dressed before we end up crying in the bathroom this early."

She unzips the bag and lets out a soft gasp as the crystals catch the light.

I twist my ring around my finger, catching sight of my reflection and her apprehensive face before fixating on the base of my shoulders. My dress curved just under them, and my hair was past my waist but...

"I need help with something else." I confess, "Something only you can do."

Lissa's fingers pause over the small jewels, "What is it?"

I tell her and without a second's hesitation, she moves behind me, sweeping my hair forward.

"Will it cost you? I don't want you to if it will - "

Her hands touch my shoulders and in the mirror, she's smiling softly. "I can afford this."

I untie my robe, holding it close to my front whilst she gently eases it down at the back. There's no sensation or anything strange as she works, just the barest touch of her fingers. When she's done, she kisses my cheek and leaves me alone.

I pull other bits of armour from the bag I brought. The black underwear Natalie had given me for Christmas. I remove the straps, fasten the satin bra to my body and pull on the underwear. The stockings are tricky, so fine and delicate I'm terrified of ripping them as I pull them on. It takes me a while to figure out to attach the clips from the belt to the banding at my thigh.

This time the mirror doesn't bring me to tears or draw something out that needs adapting to.

It makes me feel a sense of pride and power.

And now to conceal it under something beautiful.

I pull the dress delicately over my hips, aware there's no forgiving inch or extra material as I pull the zip up over my ribs. The bodice is moulded to me, made for my body, every crystal precisely placed to make this piece of art. The skirt that flows to the floor, glittering stars laid on a purple sky of mesh and silk. Fine ropes of crystal drape off my shoulders and obscure my youngest scar.

Lissa had disguised the rest.

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the gown, adjusting to it and letting the power it holds seep into me. I meet my eyes in the mirror and marvel as the armour shifts and rearranges things within myself. It whispers what I'm capable of.

When I step back into the living area a new version of Natalie meets me.

She wears a gown of the darkest night. The black stain fastened tight around her, outlining her waist and soft swell of her chest before flowing out into a full skirt. No diamonds break up the black, her silhouette commanding all the attention, but atop her ebony hair sits a tiara of silver and rubies.

"Natalie." I breathe, searching for words that haven't yet been created.

She watches me and for a second, it's like I'm in the room with a stranger and I wonder if she's thinking the same thing.

But then her mouth tips up and my friend returns as she moves toward me. "Ohmygod Rose, you look incredible, you look like…"

"Starlight."

She gives me a humouring look and I know she doesn't understand.

"You're beyond gorgeous. Look at your boobs! I have padding in here and I'm not going to be able to eat dessert because of how tight this thing is but it's so worth it." She rounds her shoulders and looks down at her chest. "See!"

"Yeah, I see them." I laugh.

Natalie's glee sobers as her gaze catches on something. "You can't wear that. It clashes." I look down at my right hand where the thin band of gold encircles my finger. My thumb stops rotating it. "There's jewellery here you can borrow, look."

She sweeps away to one of the tables and reluctantly I take my ring off. The inscription looks back at me and emotion touches my throat.

My love. For what you are and what you have.

I tuck it into the front of my dress

If I had to be in a room where what we were and what we had was forbidden, I could at least keep the truth close as he plays out a lie.

I wasn't going to wear Royal jewellery. Anything around my throat would feel like a rope and anything around my wrists like restraints.

I didn't need a reminder I was only there because of their generosity.

"I think my dress is enough. Where's Lissa?"

"Uncle Eric came to walk her down." She says, crossing the room. Her skirt would make sure people moved around her, wasn't going to compensate for them. "Her dress fitted perfectly too, so I don't have to ruin that woman's life. Grab your clutch and let's go, you need to fill Daddy in."

When we cross the threshold into Victor's suite my stomach flutters, but I force my chin to stay up. I know Dimitri's not here, I can feel it, but my gaze still sweeps the room, disappointed when I'm proved right.

Victor stands in front of a full-length mirror as two Moroi fuss around him. I've never met this version of him before, not even in Estonia, but I have seen glimpses of it. A cut figure of power, to bend people to his will without leniency – where compromise or allowances would not be acceptable.

He spots Natalie in the mirror and snaps his fingers, the two Moroi falling away from him as he turns.

"My darling. You look wonderful, truly perfect." He holds out his hands out to her, "Tell me again, what was the reasoning behind black?"

Natalie launches into an excited stream as I wait awkwardly, knowing he was choosing to not acknowledge me yet.

The balcony door slides open and Spiridon steps in. He's dressed formally like he had at Thanksgiving, with the addition of a black jacket, red embroidery on the breast pocket, and his blonde hairs been tamed.

We appraise the new versions of each other.

Both polished up and gleaming.

"I didn't know you owned a hairbrush."

His lip twitches. "I borrowed Belikovs, you know how he is, always preening."

Natalie gives out an excited squeal as Victor pulls more diamonds from a box and fastens them around her wrist.

"You look nice."

He says it so quietly that it would be easy to think I imagined it.

It would be easy to not acknowledge it.

"Thank you." I utter, "So do you."

He nods stiffly, turning away.

"And look at you, Rose! I almost didn't recognise you." Victor says, walking toward me as if he'd only just realised, I was there or reminding me that no matter what, it was my place to wait. He stops just shy of being too close as he appraises, "You look stunning."

He turns back to Natalie, "You have outdone yourself."

"Thank you." She beams. "The seamstress made a big deal out of it and how unconventional it was, but I convinced her."

They're making me feel like a project and the anger I've been holding onto spreads, lighting up my blood as it crawls through it.

"I had every faith in you. Now, we should get going, Rhea will not forgive us for being late with so many changes happening."

Natalie looks at me, "Speaking of...Rose has something to tell you."

"Wowza!" Someone suddenly shouts, shattering the mood and structure of the room. "Is that you, kid?"

The door to the Guardian quarters swings shut as Ben strides across the floor, aiming for me with the biggest smile on his face. He's dressed exactly like Spiridon, dark hair neatly brushed back and a red emblem on his breast pocket.

"You look really nice." I blurt before he all but collides with me and pulls me into a bear hug. "Ben!"

"Shit, I think your dress just cut me." He says dropping me back onto my feet where I rock back on stupid heels I haven't mastered. I hear Spiridon mutter something that sounds like 'moron' but Ben smiles down at me, undeterred. "I look nice? Look at you! You look amazing."

For some bizarre reason, I feel like I might cry but I swallow it and force out a small 'thank you' that makes his smile dim a little, giving way to a touch of emotion.

A rapping on the open door chases away the moment and we all turn toward it.

"Adrian." Victor says in surprise.

Gone is the flippant boy whose eyes sparkle with a secret joke and in his place stands a man with intent. Adrian strides, not saunters, into the room, his features carved from the finest marble, bronze hair immaculate and his figure clean cut in his suit.

A prince.

"My apologies for being late. I had some loose ends to tie up."

There's a beat of silence, loaded with bewilderment from those around me and my stomach flutters again.

"I think there's been some miscommunication." Victor says slowly, "Natalie is being escorted by Ralf."

But Adrian comes to a stop in front of me and without hesitating takes my hand, drawing it up as he inclines his head to kiss it.

The hand Ben has on my shoulder tightens like he wants to yank me away

"As if conjured from a dream." Adrian murmurs, the mischief returning to his features, and I resist rolling my eyes.

Instead, I take a deep breath, turning to them all, "Adrian's my date."

Silence answers. Confusion etches deeper into Victor's face, Natalie intently watching him for his reaction but Ben stares at Adrian in a way that makes me lean closer to him, slightly wary for his safety.

"Your date?" Spiridon repeats, gaze fixed above my head.

"Perhaps a little too presumptuous." Adrian answers him easily, ignoring the tension. He turns to Victor, "This was last minute, so I haven't appropriately requested Rose's hand."

Prince Dashkov's expression mellows, expectant, but Adrian turns away from him.

"Guardian White, may I have the honour of escorting your sister to the Solstice ball? I promise to take the outmost care of her and ensure she has the most wonderful evening, returning her to her suite before sunrise."

The only change in the room is in Spiridon's facial expression, where it moves into a deeper variation of exasperation.

Ben regards the Royal, no hint of his warmth or playfulness that had just been shown to me minutes ago.

"I have no doubt you will, but you realise the effect it will have? Both of you?" Victor says, breaking the silence. "There will be a reaction, especially from your father."

"To take a friend to an event that is historically known for strengthening bonds and signifying unity?" Adrian responds smoothly.

"Between Royal families." Spiridon states flatly. "This isn't exactly conventional."

Adrian considers him for a moment. "By tradition but not by decree. Isn't that what you're all striving to remind people?"

"Yes. Yes, we are." Victor says and it's obvious he's excited by this. It is after all, what he wanted. "But your family –"

"Will remain composed and dignified, to keep the spirit of things intact." Adrian brushes him off, returning his attention to Ben. "I will not put her into any uncomfortable situations or leave her side. You have my word."

And somehow, he's changed the order of things. The heir to this sprawling winter palace waits for a Guardian's approval, for his permission, for his blessing. The weight of that settles around us and my fingers squeeze Adrian's in gratitude. I'd entered the room and been acknowledged as a project, a symbol of the Dashkov's charity, but Adrian was wiping that out.

Ben looks at me and I give the slightest of nods, letting him know I was more than okay with this. That this is my choice.

"I'll hold you to that." He tells the Moroi.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from a brother." Adrian replies quietly.

---

DPOV

Christian's mood rivals my own. The only difference is mine is locked down with a smooth surface laid over it, ready to reflect what is required to satisfy the patron.

Natasha see's someone who is subdued but steady, her accessory for the evening.

Victor had seen someone begrudging but determined.

And I…I couldn't look in the mirror.

Mask firmly on.

"I don't understand how you don't think this is hypocritical." Christian's voice is barely civil as he wrestles with his tie.

I adjust to the room, instead of letting it filter past me on autopilot. It had been easier when Christian's aggression was passive, and Natasha was choosing to ignore it, but her patience is waning.

"So, what would you have me do?" She demands, vexed as if she'd exhausted this argument before. "What is your plan to navigate our way out of this?"

I make a show of discretely removing myself into the dining area of the emerald suite, but it does little to muffle their voices.

"We can't fix what's been done. We can't. We can only do better, so do that."

"But what about them? I have to listen to my friends' fathers tell me how good it is to see mine involved again. How glad they are. My girlfriends father. When Lissa's now best friends with – "

"Yes, Lissa. Who you've said yourself is the best thing that's happened to you so think about every consequence your impulsivity would have. You would lose her. We would lose everything."

The weight that's been hanging around my neck pulls down and everything I'd yelled into Spiridon's face runs through my head. I drown the contents of my glass, not recalling if it's my second or third, not caring because I need something to get through this.

I hear Natasha sigh heavily as I pour another.

"Christian, what you're feeling, is a good thing. You care. And that's already some justice to carry forward. Those dark acts follow us or define us. We are remaking our legacy. Try to understand that you're old enough now to not give into childish whim and see the world as it is. I've given you that."

Her lecture is met by silence, then heavy footsteps before a door slams.

She finds me sitting at the dining table, my glass half empty again.

"Don't tell Victor about that. He has a good heart, but it won't rule his head."

Maybe it should.

She's staring at me.

"There's nothing to tell." I say, trying not to sound as exhausted as I feel.

Three days of moves and counter moves, of meetings and running the perimeter of this valley on a wild hunt for a man I killed and only Spiridon knows the whereabouts of.

Natasha pours herself a drink and knocks it back, her earrings swinging with the force of it. She'd dressed simply in a sleek navy dress. Formal, serious, dignified, respectful – all the things we were to represent in this partnership.

"Nervous?" I comment – trying for humour but sounding flat.

It makes her grin anyway as she pours another drink. "As if you aren't."

I hold up my glass in evidence but not from nerves, from feeling dirty, exploited, guilty – evidence of wanting to be out of my own skin.

As she sips, lost in thought, I carefully pick out segments of my script because if I had to be here, I had to at least ensure it wasn't in vain. What Victor wanted, if I could secure it for him, then I could leverage my achievement. If I could get her to agree to challenge Lucas for the Ozera title, then Victor may alleviate the pressure of this whole fucking charade.

A princess could not be thought to have a relationship with a Dhampir, Guardian or not, revered or not. It was unacceptable.

Lucas being head of their family meant he had the power to end her agenda, what she was building a career around if he deemed so. And he would – because tonight was implicating the Ozera name with it and it would no longer be known as just some frivolous hobby of his sisters.

Moves and counter moves. Victor already two steps ahead.

Force Lucas back to Court, allow him to relax back into Royal esteem. Build Natasha's confidence and her faith in herself, steer it so it gains transaction. Make both siblings clash over it, divide further, and back the younger one for the head title.

My link to her had been a valuable asset, a massacre renewing it in the grief of losing our two friends.

Yes, Victor has been so far ahead, and I've been the fool finding my way blind. Waiting to see what traps are about to spring, looking back and seeing the ones I'd walked through.

But the one thing I had chosen for myself he wouldn't take from me or use. I might have been blinded to the rest by duty narrowing my focus but not now. Now I would use his plans to support mine.

I would get Rose and I out. I would set her up with means so she could have whatever in life she wanted. I'd already contacted a lawyer to change documents to reflect that.

And even if she changed her mind, and wanted to follow a path without me – it wouldn't change that.

A Blood Promise is all-encompassing and everlasting.

"You have the grace and dignity to handle all this." I say and Natasha looks up in surprise. "Nerves are a good thing, it means you know what's at stake. Lucas and Moira haven't been to this event in three years, you're representing your family name tonight."

She sighs, drifting closer and I will my limbs to stay relaxed. She touches my shoulder.

"Thank you for understanding that. For being brave enough to stand beside me so they can see how serious I am. With you they'll take it more seriously, a revered Guardian created in the red zones, who believes my initiative could turn the tide. It's what they need to see. We aren't threatening anything by wanting to change how we protect it." She takes another sip and I stand so I'm out from under her hold, stepping away under the pretence of discarding my empty glass.

"We could have the programme implemented by spring, maybe sooner if we start in Romania." She says from behind me, enthusiasm low in her voice.

"If Lucas allows it." I remind her quietly.

Because he wouldn't. His hostility was amping up with the margin of freedom Victor had given him.

I turn back as she says, "I can handle him."

It would be believable if it wasn't contradicted by her shoulders rounding, how she'd looked down to swirl the contents of her glass. "Come on, if we're late and jeopardise the very important procession we've to enter in, Rhea Dragomir's face might crack. Daniella wrangling Adrian in last minute and swapping out Nathan nearly caused World War three."

I don't recall anything from the walk down.

I know Natasha holds my arm and every piece of attention warrants a squeeze, positive or not.

When we reach the annexe to the main hall the silence is oppressive. A room full of Royal Moroi with their skin scorching judgement. For a moment I'm sixteen again, in detention with Spiridon, the school benefactors surveying our punishment. One of them being my father.

Rhea breaks rank, her warmth and kindness never failing, and she welcomes us.

"Lissa has just informed me of some changes so I'm putting you both behind her and Christian. You're going in second." She explains, manoeuvring us into line, and quietly adds, "Eric is behind you."

The double intent isn't missed. Natasha touches her arm, whispering thanks but Rhea waves it off. She kisses Lissa's cheek, whispering something before moving back down the line

"What's happened?" Christian asks.

"Adrian changed who he's escorting." Lissa replies airily.

"Not Vanessa Lazar anymore?" Natasha asks and Lissa shakes her head, "Who then?"

"Oh, you won't recognise her, but I think she's a better choice." She replies and turns forward.

Natasha leans into me, speaking so low it would be hard for to be overheard, "Nathan will be livid with that, it was his chance to the Lazars on his side since they're going to bankroll Victor's weapons idea. Good news for us."

I nod minutely because I can't manage much more. This suit, evidence of advance planning by my charge, feels too tight. The collar at my throat biting and every second I resist the urge to rip at it.

"I know you don't want to be here." I hear Lissa say and for a moment I think she's talking to me. "But I really appreciate that you are. It goes a long way with my mom."

"Anything for you." Christian replies quietly and she leans in to kiss his cheek.

Watching it is like knowing how a Greek tragedy is going to end – in blood and despair.

There's a rise of music from the archway ahead, signalling the Royal Waltz is beginning, and the first couple move forward.

The fabric caging me gets smaller and it's an effort to breathe. A slick oily feeling broils in my stomach, my skin fevered, and it takes everything to remain composed.

Rose is through there, alone in that massive room save the company of Andre, which will not be much company for her at all.

She'd closed the door to me, more than just literally. She'd had enough, so much so my presence was intolerable. It wasn't what she wanted or needed. I wasn't the comfort she sought, I was a contribution to her upset.

And this was why.

If I could just get her alone for a moment and –

A tingling sensation, like dainty fingers in the small hours of the morning, slide down the nape of my neck and beckon me to look behind me.

I begin to turn but there's a warning squeeze on my arm as Lissa and Christian move forward.

---

RPOV

The music isn't like anything I've heard before. Notes coax and pluck at my emotions, willing out feeling. Drawing me forward, reinforcing my resolve and threading excitement through the nerves.

Adrian gives my hand resting on his arm a gentle squeeze, a kinetic warmth spreading up my arm that wasn't my natural reaction, but a natural act of kindness from him. Encouragement through his ability.

We are last in the line of the Royals entering the main hall. Rhea manoeuvred us into place, giving quick rushed instructions of what to expect, things I hoped I'd remembered correctly even though they made me feel nauseous.

I'd caught a glimpse of Dimitri and it made my heart lurch. Just a glimpse as he walked through the archway with her on his arm, tall and proud.

Somewhere in my brain, I was able to note how she wore a plain dress, refined and modest. Her dark hair was pulled back at the sides and poker straight.

My dress was throwing light across the floor, creating patches of diamonds for Adrian and I to step into as we walked.

The couple in front walk through the archway, leaving us poised in their wake, waiting for our cue to fall over into no return.

"Ready?" Adrian asks.

"As I'll ever be." I admit.

And then we're walking forward, through the doorway of frosted berries and glazed flowers into a room so large my hand tightening on his arm to ground me.

Black silk makes a canopy over the ceiling, secured to the rock walls, a reminder that we are inside a Mountain. Sheer ivory draping hangs loosely from the black with white diamond lights, thousands of them, all racing toward the largest chandelier I've ever seen in the centre. Ruby, emerald, sapphire, and clear gems glitter, throwing their radiance back at the ceiling.

The glittering from above reflects dimly on the dark floor beneath, except for around Adrian and I, where the gems of my dress give the illusion of walking across the night sky.

At the end of the room, beyond the gathered crowd, a tree stands prominent, maybe three feet short from the ceiling décor.

I might have stopped to stare at the beauty of it all, tripped over my own feet, if it hadn't been for the secure hold of Adrian's arm.

The music hits a new height and that's when my gaze drops back to my immediate surroundings.

A magnetic pull, that I have never been able to resist, beckons for me to search for him but Adrian halts, swinging me around into our starting position. Over his shoulder I see Lissa, a pure source of light in this midnight dream, her gown of white satin and gossamer fabric, the delicate tulle falling from her shoulders in a regal train.

And drawing her closer, hands locking, is someone who didn't belong beside her.

"Eyes on me." Adrian says under his breath, fingers feathering under my shoulder blades. I look at him and he winks, the small gesture reassuring.

I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly as the music begins to fall into a lull, bowing to welcome the next piece, but in the in-between, I hear the whispers and the weight of this decision being measured by others.

"If you stumble or forget a step don't stop." He reminds me as our hands slide together and lift.

"I won't forget." I murmur, staring right back at him and refusing to look anywhere else.

Dancing is like sparring. Break down the moves and commit them to memory.

He'd told me that as he aligned our frames like this, in a room with warmer lights, after showing me how you can make love to someone, and the rest of the world was locked out.

It hadn't felt like sparring with him then but here and now it does.

A fine note rises and is joined by more. We hold position, two allies ready for combat. A warning sensation pulses between our palms and then Adrian steps forward on his right foot, my left gliding back.

---

DPOV

The moment we walked out onto this stage I looked for her in the crowd of faces. I scanned a second, a third time, skimming the mixed expressions and those whispering to their neighbour, that feeling spiking in my gut, odd and twisting.

I reach my mark and revolve to meet Natasha, putting my back to the majority. A detail meticulously planned by my charge.

Natasha is smiling at me, and I know I'm mirroring the appropriate sentiment.

Maybe she hadn't come. Maybe witnessing this was too much of a betrayal but we had discussed this hadn't we? That lying would be hard and being here would be harder. But we couldn't have anticipated this level of hard, but I should have. I should have been smarter, looked at how Victor would strategize but I hadn't and now...

The whispers lift and intensify around the room, the lightest tingle sliding down the back of my neck.

Instinct pulls my gaze over Natasha's right shoulder, past Natalie, to where Adrian Ivashkov enters through the archway. His expression sobered, proud, chin lifted high – the most arrogant peacock walking on stage.

And with him -

My frame slackens.

Roza.

My Roza, in a dress that dazzled and shimmered as she moved, tiny fractures of stars laid over winter dusk.

The dip of her waist, that my hands have cradled, the swell of her chest, tan skin aglow with a dark waterfall of hair down her back…

She is the most beautiful thing to ever walk this world. Not just these halls, not just any of those of Court but this world. Centuries past have not witnessed the likes of her and the centuries to come - the rise of empires and fall of empires - would not either.

For three days I have been without her, had to watch from a distance, and it was like being deprived of all that makes you feel moved or whole.

And I am still watching from afar, but seeing her now...it was like entering church and feeling God rush through.

Roza.

My Roza.

Walking out onto this stage looking like the North Star. My Roza drinking in the room with a wonder on her face. My Roza, an Ivashkov is turning towards, his hand gliding down her arm as the other reaches for her waist to draw her closer.

My Roza in the hands, arms, and eyes of another man.

And she's smiling at him.

My mind collapses in on itself.

"Dimitri." Natasha utters, giving my shoulder a sharp squeeze.

My hands find their place as I watch Rose stare at him, lips barely moving as she says something only for him.

A ringing fills my ears and the instinct to cut through everyone and everything ignites my being.

I glance to my right, at Victor, who's aligned with Rhea. He's dragged her into this, he'd gone around us and gotten to Adrian. That's why he was insistent on us leaving them alone last night –

The string orchestra sounds their beginning.

"Dimtiri." Natasha says again, my name stretched out in indignation.

The hand that had been under her shoulder blade has lifted, unable to settle as if meeting a magnetic force.

My Roza, has entered this. Into this game and if she was forced to... I will ruin everyone involved. I will rip apart this delicate operation from the inside out –

"Dimitri." Natasha snaps.

I tear my eyes away from my home and look at the woman in front of me as if just realising she's there. Her tight smile and glacier-cutting eyes. Not warm, not a shade more decadent than chocolate, because they were looking at someone else.

My Roza is looking at someone else, looking like that.

The music lifts, the prelude of the beginning and for a second I think I might fold, but if she's in this game then I needed to be too.

My right foot slides forward, the first move of this battle.

---

RPOV

Somewhere between the steps and stiff elegant twirls Adrian leads us into – I start to enjoy myself. I start to feel like I'm winning.

The weight of my skirt swishes out around me, the high fine notes wrapping around us, so they and Adrian are the only things I'm acutely aware of. I know I'm being assessed, surveyed and for the first time, it doesn't threaten to chip away at me. It's not this dress or the paint on my face, it isn't because I'm purposefully making myself belong where I don't – it's me.

I would not fold in because of their looks. I would not berate and break myself down because if Victor could make Dimitri fit into this room, then I could too.

It's an almost dangerous, fizzing high fuelled by anger and a dash of sweet arrogance.

I'm giving myself credit for being aware of it, at least that means I'm not an idiot.

We revolve around the floor, the other dancers a blur but now and then heat of awareness runs over my neck. I know he's seen me; I know he's reacting, and I know it's wrong to be thrilled by that.

But then – the music begins to fall, Adrian's guiding motions slowing and as he pulls us into our last turn.

He smiles at me, and I force myself to grin back as our feet stop waltzing over the stars, because we've won the first battle of the night, but the war was about to begin. Polite applause goes up. Adrian leans in to peck my cheek so swiftly it takes me by surprise, and I almost miss what he says on a passing breath.

"Keep your head high."

And then he's gone, moving in a seamless sidestep to dance with the woman there. I hold my breath waiting for my partner, praying that Rhea had enough time to organize someone who wouldn't hate me, hoping it's Eric or -

Christian steps in front of me, blocking out the surroundings I'd been so taken with, and everything in me goes silent.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recognise the tenseness in his face, how the tendons in his throat constrict, before dropping my gaze to his shoulder. Numbly my hand meets his, a cool, clamminess to it and I lock my mind around the idea of sparring. Moves to meet your opponent, offence and defence.

I would not fall to this.

Spiridon had taught me better. He had taught me better.

We move, and I endure, but the whispers are harsher in my ears, the catches of laughter piercing and a tremor runs through my limbs.

He doesn't say anything, and we remain rigid until the last turn, when he finally releases his hold, moving away.

I feel peeled back, slightly raw and I can't lift my eyes from a fixed point on the floor.

Fingertips gently skim from my wrist to baby finger, the barest touch, but coaxing my hand to revolve and seal palm to palm. Warm and calloused. Citrus and something masculine pressing in, and my gaze on the floor is blocked.

My shoulders relax. The din surrounding my head fades. A hand curves into the space between my waist and shoulder, holding me in a safe space.

I breathe.

My nervous system relaxes, falling through the steps, and I'm back in the golden glow of the living room. The world doesn't belong in here, it's locked out and it's just us.

I look up at Dimitri.

Those magnetic eyes pulse with a thousand questions as he searches my face as if trying to find me beneath the veil. I feel his thumb sweep my bare finger.

I know what answers he seeks and suddenly my temper flares, reminding me why I'm here. Why he's here.

So, I look back at him and lock him out. The door is still between us, even though we're both leaning on either side.

---

The Solstice Ball had always been an event to celebrate the Royalty of the Moroi. It was held to reforge bonds, solder fractures, and celebrate being united by noble blood.

The peak of the year, a climb some had not made, was to honour the one principal that had held fast and unbroken for centuries.

They come first.

But on this night, with a warning wind chasing through the mountains, two Dhampirs remade that history.

In an arena they were forbidden to enter, on a stage they were deemed unworthy of, they moved with grace and precision that shadowed surrounding royalty.

One born in the dust, the other in the snow, who had learned in their separate ways that where the hammer fell, they would be under it.

And as the hammer held poised and unseen, the Royalty of this world watched two lesser beings eclipse their privilege.

The crowd watches, gripped, as they move with beauty and grace forged from battle, from survival. Every step and twirl testimony to what it means, to truly feel alive.

Two striking figures revolutionizing their folklore but whose eyes are only for each other.

Words perish on tongues and just for a moment they all forget,

'They come first'

'They come first' has been remade between the two.

Two Dhampirs who would change the world.

No matter what way, the hammer fell.

---

DPOV

Roza.

My Roza.

Who I wanted to steal away. Who I needed a thousand answers from and who burns so brightly everyone could finally see her. For a moment, she looks at me only how she looks at me and I am undone to it.

But then she sinks beneath the part she's playing. An act louder than the ceased whispers and heavier than every eye trained on us.

For three days I have been without her, been near her but never with her and here, held against me, and here…

I'm still not with her.

But everyone in this room will want to be.

And years of control, of quelling the rearing creature inside of me, threatens to collapse under the new weight of dawning jealousy.

---

RPOV

The dance descends into its final breath. The surrounding couples drop their hands to another polite applause but ours remains sealed together, sinking between us.

It isn't until I'm forced to look at the surrounding crowd that I realise I stand alone with him on an island. A sea of Moroi watching us as they clap and whisper, while some don't clap at all, and I push against the urge to look down, and instead lean into his presence.

Because no matter what, he is my even ground, a safe harbour when the world is crashing or churning around us. He has always been constant – until yesterday when he let the ground rock beneath me without warning.

The couples break apart. Adrian moves back toward me, leaving Natasha behind who beckons to Dimitri. The hand resting on my back presses in, as if wanting to pull me closer...

"Go."

It slips from between my lips in a quiet rush, lost under the noise of the Moroi. I'd put myself here, in this, where he couldn't stand in front of me even when he wants to, even though he would if I hadn't spoken. But the world is around us, pushing in, and we have to bend for it.

I pull my hand from his and after a moment he walks away.

Adrian reaches me and I smile in relief. He folds my arm through his again and I collect myself as the room shifts, preparing for its next segment as the dancefloor opens to all.

"You did amazing." Adrian whispers. "You have no idea the vice you just had these people in. Any longer and the pheromones would have us witness some hedonistic pagan scene."

I blink. "What?"

He smiles wider, "Solar flares, little Dhampir."

Heat rushes to my face.

Couples are moving off the floor, some remaining, but standing against the tide is Adrian's father and he looks furious.

My lungs constrict and instantly I tug at his arm, pulling us toward the nearest safety of Natalie who's hanging off Ralf and whispering to Camille and Jesse.

They go silent as we breach their circle.

"Happy New Year." Adrian greets jovially, crossing whatever bridge had been put in place.

"What happened to Vanessa?" Camille asks bluntly, not so subtly running her eyes over my dress.

"I don't know, what did happen to Vanessa?" Adrian whispers back dramatically so she scowls. He grins like it's all good fun, "Rose is the only person I wanted the company of, and she very generously gifted me that."

"So, are you two like…a thing?"

And there it is, the assumption everyone would be thinking, and I can't help but be grateful she'd been direct.

Adrian and I exchange a look, but I get there first, "No. Adrian likes blondes."

"And Rose likes accents." Adrian returns and I nearly shove him.

"Accents?" Natalie asks, puzzled.

The sound of someone tapping a glass commands attention, and obediently we all turn to it.

Nathan Ivashkov stands proudly, his silver hair matching his moustache and I try to find some trace of Adrian in his features, but I can't. Beside him is a dark-haired woman that I assume is his wife, Adrian's mother, in a simple silver dress. The simpleness of it is balanced out by the vast number of jewels hanging from her ears, neck, and wrists.

"Welcome everyone. We are honoured to once again be holding this beloved event, it means so much to my wife and I that you have all chosen to celebrate here, knowing you are always welcome and safe within our walls." He smiles, letting that sit a moment whilst placing a hand on his wife's waist. I can't help but note how she stands impossibly straighter, straining at the touch. "This is a time to reconcile or put aside our differences, after all this night is about our dynasty and preservation. In saying that, we remember, and we honour the Zeklos family that are not here with us to do the same."

I can't help it, I look at him and despite everything, my motivations and thoughts that have me standing by Adrian, my heart twists. Dimitri's expression is utterly detached, despite the sombre and respectful smiles around him, and the woman holding onto his arm. He may as well be made from stone.

His chin moves a fraction and immediately I drop my gaze. Adrian squeezes my waist before taking two glasses from a Dhampir waiter and hands one to me.

"So please, find yourselves a glass of champagne, or four, we need help getting rid of it, and enjoy your evening. Au Nou Fericit!"

"Happy New Year." Adrian whispers into my ear the crowd echoes back to the Prince. But then louder Adrian adds, "Amazing how he flows from a tragedy to his generosity in one breath, isn't it?"

I take a deep sip, finding comfort in the sharp fizz as the voices of my friends start up around me. But then I see Nathan moving this way and my hand on Adrian's arm tightens again.

"My darlings!" Rhea declares, gliding toward us in a dress of black and white satin, cutting off Nathan's path. She kisses Natalie and I's cheeks, reaching out a hand to Adrian's, giving us all individual compliments. When Natalie excuses herself she gives Adrian and I a look designed by mothers. "You two have a lot of explaining to do."

---

DPOV

I watch Rhea intervene, an ushering arm around Rose's waist as she steers her and Adrian to a safe pocket between Andre and her husband.

"I can't believe this." Natasha says, taking champagne from a passing tray and pressing it into my hands. "Did you know?"

I pull my eyes away, "No. Victor didn't tell me anything."

Christian gravitates to us. If the Dragomirs were the port in the storm, then he was not welcome there.

"Unbelievable." She mutters, taking a long drink.

Voices pass us, animated about the Dhampir with the Ivashkov lord, how interesting, how exciting – the scandal.

'I'll give the Ivashkov boy this, he knows how to find a face to launch a thousand ships…'

"Lissa said Adrian asked her yesterday." Christian informs us quietly, the glass he's holding already dry. "Nathan was pushing him to propose to Vanessa, so this is his rebellion."

"Oh, wonderful." Natasha seethes. "This was supposed to be a dignified statement on our part. A venerated Guardian escorting a Lady – not a spoilt brat with their shiniest plaything."

"Careful." It comes out from between my teeth, snapping me awake from my removed state.

"It's almost too hard to make that distinction you mean. Maybe because there isn't one. What does it matter anyway? This takes the heat of you both. You should thank them."

The last sentence is so saturated in sarcasm that she can only stare at him but the indignation in Christian's face is resolute.

"You knew she'd be here. Deal with it, I have to." And he strides off toward the unruly blonde boy, Jesse.

Natasha sighs, "He's right. He's right, it's just, I already feel this is delicate enough without something rogue like that. And God, I didn't even think how this would be for him – he was supposed to dance with Vanessa, and it got switched to her, obviously Rhea thinking that was a safe bet but…"

She takes another drink and I'm stuck staring at her, the last threads of that link Victor had valued fraying to hairs.

How this would be for him?

Not for Rose? Not for someone her brother had enslaved, abused, traumatised – who had witnessed and endured her only friend and comfort murdered in front of her. Who witnessed and endured violence against her mother and lived in constant fear of it happening to her.

She couldn't consider how difficult it would be for her to be near Christian who was the spitting image of his father?

Someone she'd ardently been avoiding even when it meant being denied company of Lissa.

And I realize, with such startling clarity, how I'd found it so confusing to understand this disposition, putting it down to guilt she didn't want to own. Natasha had been so understanding, so supportive without being overbearing when Ivan had died that…it painted her differently to me.

But that painting is peeling away.

Her understanding and empathy fall where her interest does.

How the fuck was I making it through this?

I need to speak to Victor, but I'm not calm enough to manage that yet.

I almost flinch as her hand settles into the cradle of my arm.

I'm overstimulated. Agitated. A liability.

"Dimitri, I know you care about her, but do you honestly think she would wear a dress like that if she couldn't handle the attention it would bring, and then again putting herself into a position with the Ivashkov? She's been starved of attention and now she's gorging on it. It was the same at Thanksgiving and it's not her fault, she doesn't know any better."

The delicate stem of my glass snaps. A faint break inside my fist but one she hears, eyes dropping in alarm. My teeth clench so tightly that a shooting pain travels from my jaw to my temple.

It's on the tip of my tongue, aligned to Christian's vehemence, that she shouldn't be so jealous that her commodity for the evening had lost its thunder to another.

I catch the eye of a passing server and calmly give them the broken pieces of the flute and replace it with a full one. I don't miss how Natasha's indignant expression holds a hint of being wary.

With every ounce of control, I possess I manage to keep my tone low and level, "Natasha, I have told you, more than once, to not speak to me about Rose. No matter your intent. If we are to get through this, even try to enjoy it, you will not say one more word or I will leave."

Her cool features blaze, the defence rearing – her brothers' crimes are not her own, it was an observant comment, I was too sensitive given my personal history – but she shackles it and closes her eyes briefly.

When they open her whole face has relaxed, and she smiles. "Come on, we should try to sweet talk the Lazar's whilst the sting is still fresh."

---

RPOV

Adrian takes the lead in explaining to the gathered Dragomirs about our rebellious act, and I have no doubt he is aware of others close by listening in. Natalie moves away with Ralf without a word, and I tell myself it's because she's already ahead of this gossip, that she's excited and wants to immerse herself into the evening she's been talking about for weeks.

Not because she's annoyed.

I sip champagne, remaining steady despite the looks and whispers. I watch Dimitri with her hanging off his arm doing the same.

It becomes a game of watching him and looking away when I think he might catch me.

The dancing becomes more relaxed, couples laughing and talking through the steps instead of sworn silence. Lissa had looped her arm through mine, and we begin picking out dresses we liked.

Across the hall, Victor is surrounded, the centre point of the churning rumour mill and thriving.

You're welcome.

"Wait until later, when all the older kooks are throwing each other around and doing hip swivels." Adrian says into my ear as Camille's mother is spun by Andre. I'd heard Eric giving him a whispered instruction to dance with her immediately.

Rhea looks on with tenderness as Lissa dances with Eric. "I trust I am not associated with these 'kooks'."

"Absolutely not." Adrian says, winking at me.

"Rose." I turn to find Ralf smiling bashfully and over his shoulder two Moroi women have their eyes trained on us. "Would you like to dance?"

"Oh?" It comes out in one breath.

"She would love to." Rhea answers for me, placing her glass on a passing tray, "Because Adrian was just about to ask me."

"She is so perceptive." Adrian enthuses and then holds out his hand to her, "Which is why we adore her."

Rhea tsks as he leads her out but she's smiling so wide her fangs show.

I take Ralf's hand, ignoring the strangeness of it, the inherent recoil that comes from being close to anyone I'm not super familiar with, and remember my training as we enter the arena.

After the sequence ends with Ralf, Jesse appears behind him, and then another man after him. I begin to panic I'm caught inside a cycle I can't get out of. The thing inside me coiling tighter no matter how much I will it to relax.

Then Adrian is there, a lifeline, and I can drag in the breath I'd been neglecting.

"Having too much of a good thing?" He asks after a minute in which I'd pulled myself back together.

"We didn't talk about how I get off the ride." I mutter as the room moves by, the chandelier rotating above.

"Just tell them no, Rose. Let them deal with the rejection of it, you don't owe anybody anything."

No, I don't.

Adrian keeps talking and the anxiety dials down.

"I'm telling you this as a heads up, not to make you worry, but Natalie is going to be weird."

"What? Why?" I ask as I turn under his arms for them to fall in front of me, the steps lead us into a backward turn with his chest against my shoulders before pushing me out the length of his arm, only to pull me back. "Because you're being showered with compliments, and that's difficult for an only child, used to holding everyone's attention. Even her beau's getting flustered at the sight of you."

"But she looks incredible. I thought she told Ralf to ask me to dance so I wouldn't be stood by myself."

Adrian's palm flattens on my waist, pressing me tight against him as he says, "Rose, there is no danger of that. Which might also add to the issue."

"I don't want her feeling that way. She put so much effort into this and I know people's opinion matter to her about tonight. Especially Victors. Could you say something?"

He hums like he's thinking about it, "Make more of an effort to circulate praise for the Dashkovs so it passes my family's ear? Sure, I can do that."

We glide to a stop and I'm glad to get away from the centre of the stage, even though it seems to move with us.

Adrian plucks up more glasses and finds a spot relatively private. "You're fluctuating a lot. Talk to me."

I don't even bother to ask how he knows, "I'm fine, I think. There is a lot of staring."

"And do you know how we remedy that?"

"How?"

"Give the people what they want, a little tangible piece of the most interesting thing to happen at this event in years. Let's go mingle. Curiosity can quickly swing toward disdain, especially where they feel denied of an experience."

I take another sip, and find Dimitri and her engaged with a group where he's listening intently and nodding along.

Arian leans in close, "Does it help if I tell you, he's frustrated. Not at all enjoying himself, verging on…some sort of outburst."

I drop my eyes. "Don't."

He doesn't listen, "The royals aren't the only ones watching, feeling denied. They're playing their game, Victors, whatever – let's go play ours."

Play the game.

Isn't that what I'd come to do? I was here to help Adrian antagonise his target and I wanted Dimitri to feel what it was like to be close and yet feel so far.

I didn't want to be standing to the side anymore while other people assumed.

I look back at Adrian, who's already smiling knowingly. "Alright, show me to play."

---

DPOV

Every line of this suit feels like restraints as I stand rigidly between Natasha and the Princess of the Lazar line. I think my stiffness is mirrored by the latter but for vastly different reasons.

I'd caught glimpses of her on the dance floor, having danced with at least three different partners. When she stepped off it with Adrian, I lost her for a while, unable to fully search as the room filtered in new guests. Lesser Moroi allowed to partake. I recognise the Headmistress Kirova among them.

I finally catch sight of Rose, smiling wide at Lord Skelzsky as Adrian looks down at her in pride.

I need to break something more substantial than a glass.

I need to have her alone to explain and ask a few questions of my own.

The overwhelming, almost commandeering, urge to grab her by the hand and flee is running hot through my blood. Impulse almost overriding, all my embedded controls fraying.

The thing that keeps me still is imagining her not wanting to. Wanting instead, to stay with the Lord who is making her laugh in a room where she isn't wilting from the attention.

Because people are looking at her, not in the conspirative and untrustworthy way they look at me, but in curious appraisal.

I drain another glass, the fizz burning, wanting to come back up but making the room soften around the edges.

"Easy." Tasha murmurs, pretending to adjust her earring so she can turn her face toward me.

I give her a bland smile and ask Princess Lazar an insightful question as if I had been paying her avid attention.

Inhale. Exhale.

I have one task, one thing that if I can pull off then I may have a bargaining chip. And if I don't…if I don't then this year is not going to start well…by any means. And I need sit to because at the very least I need the breathing room to give Rose as much as I can. My contract expires in the fall, and we have so much we need to organise before then.

If she still wants that. Not just because of these past days but because she has the freedom to change her mind in this, about me, at any time.

Natasha holds the Ozera torch, leading us around the room and inserting us easily into conversation. All I need to do is support that. Especially as Christian has chosen not to, which makes my objective that much easier.

I highlight Natasha's involvement at the Academy, her connections to the other Heads who make the education board and the respect she'd garnered from the Academy's captain as well as other Guardians'. When Lucas is mentioned, I make sure what little light comes with it is eclipsed by his sister. So, when it comes to challenging for the title, she is the better choice, and I'll be free of this.

The whole time I try to ignore the self-disgust coating my skin. Allowing myself a hit every few minutes, where I look at her for a few seconds, before sinking back into the mess I've found myself in.

Over the voices, under the music, I hear Rose laugh.

---

RPOV

Adrian is infallible. A new mentor.

He moves us between couples and small groups with ease, whispering secrets or insights so I feel one step ahead. And he was right, it was less daunting up close than it had been at a distance.

I unsettled them, the sight of me, my presence, how I looked …it was a weapon.

…wield yourself how you want to…

…you will be the weapon.

I could alter my voice, my smile, my gaze to disarm. My body was not something to be used against me but something I could use against the world, in more ways than hitting harder and running faster.

The realisation leaves me lightheaded for a moment.

But the fact I can hit harder, run faster, be louder – is the stabilising comfort beneath it.

Especially when we brush too close to Nathan, Adrian's mother and Camille's father, who does not look so charmed or taken. Adrian smiles wider anyway.

I keep walking, chin up, aiming for the giant tree, the smell of cool pine a welcome breath of fresh air as the rest of the room remains behind us.

"How am I doing?"

Adrian beams at me. "A prodigy. A fast learner. A knockout. A wonder. A – "

"Alright." I wave him off.

"Something against adjectives?"

Are they enough adjectives to explain why I could simply stare at you…

"No."

I smirk around my glass, I'm not sure what number I'm on now but the rooms a little softer around the edges. Everywhere Adrian had moved us he had been in sight, but I realised this wasn't the intent, it was so I was in sight.

His hair pulled back into a knot serves to highlight some of the inky marks on his neck, a glimpse of his valour and something the Moroi can't deny respecting. I'm glad they can see that, even if it is just a snapshot.

I find Adrian watching me intently, "I have a theory…about accents, crushes and golden light."

I flatten my tongue to the roof of my mouth before using it, "Adrian, don't."

"Why not?"

Because it's like a betrayal. It isn't fair. It's for me.

"Okay, okay, forget I said that." He says rueful and I squeeze his hand to let him know it's fine. "You realise your power now though, right?"

"A little. Sort of."

He turns us and starts walking us back into the belly of the room. "Well, let's keep practising."

And before I can say anything he swerves into a couple who halt their conversation.

"Rufus, Georgina, how wonderful to finally see you."

Adrian introduces me, giving me insightful information about the two that seem flattered at his recall, and then lies, by saying how I was admiring what a lovely couple they made which led to the introduction in the first place.

And then the spotlight shifts as they start asking questions of their own.

"You're in the company of the Dashkov family?" Rufus asks, "How did that transpire if you don't mind me asking."

I take a second to weigh my rehearsed line against what I want to say.

Oh, to hell with it.

I smile and lean forward, like I'm letting them in, "Well, it isn't because of the gossip you've probably heard, and no doubt revived by accompanying Adrian tonight." They both wear mirroring expressions, taken back by the indirect reference to the Blood Whore assumption. "Victor has been very kind to me, he and Dragomirs both have. Not many people would welcome a Dhampir orphan into their home and treat them the way they have me. I've been more fortunate than…others."

Every lie should have a bit of the truth.

"Well, it certainly sounds like you been." Georgina says like she's groping for the right words. "And, this pairing, is this something your father supports, Adrian?"

Adrian smiles wide, "Absolutely not. You know how old-fashioned he is in his beliefs. Everything and every one has its place, and it's never above him."

They both laugh, high and proud, letting the surrounding groups know they were in on something they aren't.

"It's because of how open-minded people are now that Rose and I felt comfortable to attend together." Adrian continues.

"Well, an open mind can have its limits." Georgina returns, taking Rufus' elbow but her smile remains graceful, "Try not to push yours. My love to your mother."

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Rose." Rufus adds warmly before she pulls him away.

I turn to Adrian whose smirking around his glass. "Did that go well?"

"Oh yeah. She was never going to like you, but Rufus is sold. I would wager you remind him of someone." He holds up his drink to me. "A prince in the bag."

I blink. "Excuse me? He's a Prince?"

"And my uncle on my mother's side. Victor will love you for it. My father will be livid. All around success. Come on, I have another idea. I bet you, I can dance with three partners before you can get to five."

I try to do that math, but my brain is a little slower. "How is that fair?"

"Because your hair is better than mine and…" He nods downward without looking and I feel heat rush to my face. "Assets."

"Yes, I got there, thanks."

"I'm saying this bluntly because the subtle isn't working – you look like a woman people risk losing everything for. So, when you're being charming, which means observational compliments and listening closely, hold that in your mind – that you are disastrously beautiful and instead of wielding that like a weapon to cleave a marriage apart, you are simply being a delight. Like dessert."

I take a deep drink. "God, that is a lot to remember."

He laughs, taking us deeper into the crowd.

---

DPOV

This is hell.

My own personal hell.

It not navigating this minefield of being assured in myself when asked questions but painfully modest when grouped with my counterpart. The worst is not making her vision tangible to the sceptic, balanced with being Victor's representative and all-around subordinate.

It's not Natasha listing things I've done like they're invisible medals for all to marvel at. It's not feeling like a cheap trophy for things I'm not proud of and would rather not remember. It's not them craning their heads to see the back of my neck or Natasha whispering that I need a haircut.

What's hard to handle, agonisingly difficult, body and spirit, is the intense strain to be near Rose. To find out what is making her laugh so much, what she's saying to make these men smile so broadly they look half-dazed whilst their dates look equally charmed by Adrian.

I'm one of many with the burning curiosity to meet the woman in a dress that is more dazzling than all the luxury of the room.

It hits me like a punch to the gut.

This longing whilst in the same room and seeing her with someone else, even though I tell myself over and over there is no reason to worry - this is how she felt.

Only worse because it's a fucking Ozera.

But she doesn't know how cutting it is for me to see her with an Ivashkov.

A light hand touches the arm Natasha isn't latched to.

"Dimitri." Lissa greets, halting the conversation and it's the first time I've been directly addressed in thirty minutes, "Would you dance with me?"

"Ah, Vasilisa we are in the middle of a discussion." Eric says which is a pitiful smokescreen to his objection.

Lissa stares him down and then turns a truly angelic look on the rest of the party, "Pardon me, but Dimitri has been a mentor to me, he's shown me that I have strength in not only my element but within myself. He and Natasha have given me something that I feel the next generation needs for us to truly thrive – so, I would like an honour of a dance. If, of course, he is obliging."

"It would be my honour." I tell her quietly, stunned at the speech that I had not earned.

"Vasilisa has been the best student." Natasha gushes with a renewed gusto, and behind her Lady Voda, sister to Alexander, drifts closer as if drawn by the gossip.

Lissa takes my arm and I lead her toward the floor, where Rose has changed partner, back to Adrian.

How can anyone live with this?

"I know you're hating every minute of this but you're doing a good job." Lissa whispers before turning and placing her hand on my shoulder.

"Thank you." I murmur, stepping into the dance.

"Christian however, isn't even trying to pretend to have a nice time."

Ah.

"He doesn't like attention." I say as we move into the orbit of every other couple, and I can't help but think this will finally make her look. "Tasha is prepared for it."

"It's not that. It's…I thought he would like being here with me. That this could just be about us."

Christian who had only moved from space to space that was furthest from where Rose was.

"It can be a lot of pressure." I say as we fluidly move into our steps and then a turn, the white material of her dress drifting out. "Vasilisa, I appreciate this gesture. More than you know."

"I didn't want you to feel alone." She answers quietly, almost self-conscious.

I smile, or try to through the guilt, and keep focused on the task.

"Rose seems to be in her element. Don't you think?" She looks past my shoulder, emotion colouring her face and making her eyes gleam. "I used to worry about her constantly, get upset because she wouldn't admit when she wasn't doing well but…she's so different now. I think she's going to be okay, that this will all work out for her."

And from somewhere beyond me, I hear her laugh, the shine of it reflected in Lissa's smile.

"Because she has us, all of us, right? And we're going to make sure it does?"

She turns back to me, her affection ringing so genuine for the woman I love.

It's out before I can stop it, "Even if it kills me."

But Lissa smiles wide like she truly believes me.

---

RPOV

I feel so in tune with my body, with myself. I'm aware of the allure of every curve and for once I'm not fighting it. Not afraid or wary. It's more intoxicating than the alcohol…but it's also helping.

The trickiness is Dimitri. I can admit it to myself. I feel his presence pulling me in every direction, daring me to look and react, but I won't. Because my body is silken heat, every curve alluring and there is only one person I want to show me they appreciate that.

But he can't, so I let the need of it pull me thin as a wire.

I think it's harder because I'm drunk. But I think I'm holding it well, I think, it might help everyone else is drunk too.

Adrian makes his way back to me when everything is less real and softer around the edges. I hold his hand, his shoulder, and try to move as expected but he's making me laugh so much we give up dancing. He leads me off the floor, the music livelier, and he finds me a heavy glass of water.

"Okay, you won." Adrian tells me as I drain the glass. "You charmed their asses off."

"I don't care. I want to be in my onesie soon." I gasp, slowly gaining some level ground in my head.

"What the hell is a onesie?"

I laugh, a rouge giggle, and Adrian leans toward me, laughing too. Behind him, Ben prowls the far wall. I hold up my hand in a little wave and he gives a pointed look to the water in my hand.

I lean against Adrian as I turn back to the floor, a woman immediately starts talking to him, angling for a dance but he politely wiggles his way out of it. I smile at the right times but over her shoulder, I can't help but spy.

He's dancing with Lissa.

She looks like a warm summer day, gauzy white floating around her, fine beads reflecting the light as she moves. Her figure is elegantly illustrated, lithe and delicate. And he's the other side of the coin, cut power and dark features, threads of bronze and flecks of gold hidden in the details.

He's relaxed with her, more relaxed than he had been all night and a wistful warmth blooms in my chest.

I've always known how handsome he is. I've always been struck by it, even when I didn't recognise it for what it was. When it was forbidden to and somehow, I'm back in that realm, where wanting him is not allowed.

How can he be right there and still so far away? How can I know what it is to pull his body into mine, to feel whole and safe, to then slam a door in his face?

And still not know how to go about opening it again.

I drink more water, having less need to lean on Adrian, and pull him away from the edge of the dance floor. We find Ralf, Natalie, Jesse and Camille clustered together.

"Mason text, they're so fired up I can't wait." Jesse says, voice thrumming with excitement. "My parents are nearly drunk enough that anything I do from here on out will go unnoticed."

"That's because your mom and dad will eclipse anything you do by miles." Ralf laughs, "Do you remember last year?"

Jesse holds up his palm. "Can we not."

"I don't feel like being outdone or outshone." Adrian grins secretively.

Behind him Lissa is led off the floor by Dimitri, people lean their heads together in their wake. They join Victor, Natasha, Eric, Rhea, and a woman I don't recognise.

"Why? What's next? You're going to propose to Rose in the middle of the fireworks?" Natalie's tone is light but somehow brittle.

"Would you be up for that?" Adrian throws at me, eyes bright but before I can answer Andre slings an arm around his shoulder.

His tie is loose and his hair is tousled like hands have been through it.

"Don't you move on fast?"

"Oh, I never linger." Adrian returns, fixing on something or someone across the room before turning back to me. "Except to smell the roses."

I roll my eyes, for about the fortieth time tonight.

Natalie is giving him a look. It's a look she gets when she's about to go head-to-head with Spiridon. I'm about to take her arm and ask her to come to the grazing table with me because we should both eat something besides champagne bubbles when there's a shift in the air.

It's like sensing when the rain is about to start or when the wind suddenly dies in a storm. People turn one by one as if pulled by an invisible string. Those about to engage in a new dance delay, coming to a stop as a woman walks through the aisle made for her.

From her hairline to the ground she crosses, she's draped in variations of gold. Her silken waves are soft and rich like the champagne in everyone's hand and then a dress that is almost molten in how it moves, curving to every inch of her lithe body so you imagine the skin it clings to. The ground reflects her hue, the stars blotted out, a sun moving through the night.

She gets closer and I can't help but drink in her features. Skin like fine China I was forbidden to touch as a child, glistening lips and then her eyes – a shade darker than my dress.

"Hello cousin." Adrian's voice breaks the trance, a smile splitting his face like he's finally experiencing Christmas. "I was afraid you didn't get my message."

The woman smiles, a slight curving of her mouth that radiates raw confidence that can't be imitated.

She takes Adrian's glass, seemingly unaware that the cavernous room is trained on her, "Well, I did, and I wasn't going to let you have all the fun."

Her strange violet eyes slide to me, "Hello, Rose. I've heard a lot about you. I'm Sofia."

---

DPOV

Fuck.

---

RPOV

Somehow, I feel instantly sobered and yet, feel like I've been hit around the head. A blurred photo suddenly sharpened and in focus so you're drinking in every detail.

I realise I haven't said anything.

Adrian opens his mouth to come to my aid, but I beat him to it. It's important to beat him to it.

"Hello, Sofia. I've heard a lot about you too."

She seems thrilled, her smile etching bigger. "Have you? From Adrian or other sources, I wonder."

"I've been keeping you a secret." Adrian says, giving me an appraising look, "So, Rose has been getting her information from elsewhere."

They both look expectant and instead of folding, I smirk, holding the lines of my armour close. "Isn't the expression something along the lines of, 'I don't kiss and tell'?"

Adrian raises an eyebrow but Sofia lets out a small, infectious laugh.

"Oh, I like you. I thought I would considering how bold you would have to be to go along with Adrian's plan, or how we seem to have some things in common but no, that just sealed it."

And because my whole personality tonight is driven by an undercurrent of anger and recklessness, I respond, "I'll let you know what I decide about you."

Her eyes don't leave mine, but she tilts her head a little, thinking, weighing me up and I smile bigger.

"Sofia is a cousin on my mother's side, my favourite one at that." Adrian steps in, addressing the people I sense have moved closer.

"As if you're spoiled for choice." She returns, finally looking away from me and smirking as if secrets are abundant between them. "And speaking of being spoiled for choice…excuse me."

She glides past us, and it somehow feels indecent to be still looking at her, especially finding her dress is backless.

Gold is the royal colour…you'd have to have balls the size of mars…

"She and my father hate each other, she for obvious reasons and he because she openly says them." Adrian explains into my ear. "I'm leaving with her in a few days."

I track her, noting how Natalie's and Jesse's mouths are open and how Rhea reaches out to kiss her cheek. How she then, greets the other Moroi, before turning last to him and – he has his mask on. The more polite version of it but his mask, nevertheless.

Natalie's face is suddenly in front of mine.

"Why didn't you introduce me." She hisses at Adrian.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because she's on every prestigious committee inside and outside of Court, because her philanthropy work stands alone compared to any other family¸ - by herself. Then there's the rumour that she was the muse for Brunello Cuccinelli's summer collection when she was just a senior and she apparently slept with the prince of Monaco. I mean I could have offered my condolences for the death of her husband or something."

Adrian's expression is paper dry. "Before or after you listed these things you admire so much about her?"

---

DPOV

This cannot be happening.

This cannot feasibly, logically, or geographically even be possible.

And yet, Sofia Tarus is standing in front of Rose, laughing, and if the tumbler in my hand wasn't made of thick crystal it would have exploded by now.

"How tacky." Natasha says, breaking the silence. "Not only late but in gold no less."

Rhea scrambles to be diplomatic, "I…it suits her skin tone perfectly and there is no written dictation that it isn't allowed."

"Still, bad taste." Eric agrees, eyes trained on Sofia and not reflecting disapproval in any form.

Tasha's hand curves around my elbow as she takes a long drink.

"I thought she was helping in Bulgaria?" Victor airs.

"No, Daniella said at the luncheon that the rebuild was completed but it was assumed because of her loss she was spending New Year, uh, alone." Lissa inputs.

"Believe me, Lissa, if there is one thing Sofia Tarus is known not to be, it's alone." Natasha returns and then launches into a thinly veiled defamation of character, carried on a polite tone.

I should reassure she doesn't need to feel threatened. I wasn't enthralled or moved by Sofia's appearance, who had approached Adrian and Rose without hesitation, as if that was her destination – because what I am, is panicked.

Rose is talking to her and all I can think about is her face when she told me it made her sad that I had been with someone else.

And Sofia is…a challenge to some, a thrill to others and completely offensive to a fair few. Sometimes she's all three. She's almost the female equivalent of Spiridon with better table manners.

And she's talking to Rose.

But Rose doesn't look sad or upset now – far from it. She looks like she's met an equal.

What the fuck is happening?

Sofia's eyes land on me and I go still. Her lips shape low words and then she moves.

Moving this way.

Inhale. Exhale.

Beyond her Natalie and her counterparts converge on Rose and I force my eyes away.

"Sofia, so wonderful to see you!" Rhea greets, reaching out for her.

Natasha's fingers tighten, warning me not to move. Sofia greets the others, ignoring the woman to my left, before turning her gaze on me.

"Lady Tarus." I incline my head.

"Oh, are we playing with the formalities, Guardian Belikov?" She grins, sipping from Adrian's stolen glass.

Natasha clears her throat. "Some of us pride ourselves on propriety, especially in prestigious public functions."

Sofia, predictably, is undeterred and takes her time to turn her attention to Natasha. "That's not how I remember Dimitri. Especially at prestigious, public functions."

"Oh, did you know each other?" Rhea asks with civil interest, straining to keep the peace.

There's a silence that quickly ramps up and Victor gives me a hard look.

"At school, in Russia." I fill in quickly. "We were in the same year."

"Oh." Rhea says, "How nice."

And then, because she hasn't changed in the slightest, Sofia smiles at her, "And sometimes the same bed."

Someone chokes as Natasha's fingers bite into my flesh, and I thank whatever higher entity there is, that Rose isn't close enough to overhear.

Until I realise who's to my right.

"Um, I'm just…excuse me." Lissa manages before all but running off.

"You really haven't changed." Natasha says flatly as Eric and Victor both wear mirroring expressions of being at a loss.

"Should I have?" Sofia cocks her head, "I've never found a reason to. You, however, I hear have…evolved."

I seize the opportunity to drain the rest of the scotch in my glass.

"With the help of some encouragement." Sofia says, pointedly looking at Victor who looks comically stricken.

The inane urge to laugh seizes me, stress coming to a head and catalysed by the most bizarre turn of events.

"Some of us have the ability to."

"Ah, the 'working together' initiative." Sofia muses, "Tell me, Natasha. How many Dhampir's have you actively helped? Have you ever been to a commune or spared some of your precious time to help on the ground? No? Ow, maybe we still have some evolving to do." And then she looks at Victor, "Maybe others do too."

Natasha takes in a sharp, steadying breath, "Just because you know where and how to throw your money, doesn't mean others don't make a difference."

And I know the look Sofia gives her, I know it means she's played right into her grasp. "I put my money where I can follow, where I ensure it helps. I have seen what it rebuilds and restores – what it guards. So much so I'm here tonight to endorse it and raise more awareness but you? Well, you seem to be manoeuvring circumstances extraordinarily well to suit your personal...interests."

Fuck.

Natasha's face flushes with her element and Victor steps toward her in panic.

"Sofia, that's –" Rhea struggles but it's in vain.

Sofia turns to me, "Guardian Belikov, the portion of the evening reserved for formal dancing is about to end. Would you give me the opportunity to at least have one turn around the floor before we welcome in the New Year?"

Inhale. Exhale.

"Lady Tarus –"

"He would be honoured." Victor cuts in, any excuse to diffuse.

Sofia hands him her glass to hold. "The honour is mine."

The last time I walked Sofia onto a dance floor I'd been filled with such unruly arrogance, so ready to piss everyone off and drink to it.

Maybe this is karma for being such a raging asshole back then.

Acknowledging that has me scan the floor, and find the burnished gold cloaked in shadow at a far corner. Spiridon's expression is indecipherable from where I stand.

The floor only holds a few couples so as we cross into it Sofia's dress is like a blinding beacon. Signalling the surrounding crowd to pay attention and everything I've drank turns sour in my stomach.

I stop at the appropriate mark and she makes a show of turning slowly at the end of my hand, before stepping back to me.

"You still have the same expression of strong disapproval." She grins as we begin to move.

"Gold? Really?" I murmur.

"What? I knew no one was brave enough and saw an opportunity."

"Did you specifically wait to turn up at the Solstice Ball to make an entrance like that?"

"Like that." She mocks with a small smile, "No, I got here yesterday. I've been laying low down in the village." I spin her out and I don't even know how she makes the simple turn more dramatic than it needs to be. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Adrian called me, he wanted a little family support. My uncle-in-law's cruelty is showing new depths so he's going to leave with me in a few days."

Adrian had brought her here.

I am being punished.

All night I'd followed the same pattern, an addict managing their doses – every few minutes I would look at her for a few seconds. The pattern hasn't changed and automatically I look past Sofia and find Rose instantly.

Her dark eyes finally look back at me.

The seconds come and go.

"Tell me, how did you end up living with Spiridon? How does something like that happen without any grave mutilations happening…or maybe they have, and they just aren't visible."

I sigh and she laughs.

"We grew up."

"I doubt that. On his part mainly."

"I was being polite."

"Not for my sake I hope." She grins, wide and unapologetic, fangs on display. "I always preferred when you weren't. So, tell me, how have you ended up working for Dashkov with an Ozera on your arm?"

"Just that, working."

She gives me a look, somewhere between annoyance and amusement, and I realise there's only one other couple left on the floor. The music starts the last rise of its song.

"Aren't you going to ask what everyone else assumes? Seeing you're not polite enough to hold back…or are saving it to embarrass Natasha?"

"I know you're not sleeping with her." She says like it's painfully obvious. "And I might bring that up if she gives me a reason to. Or she looks at me the way she's doing right now."

"Please don't. I'll be the one having to navigate the aftermath."

"Aren't you going to ask me how I know?" She says as we take the final turn. I don't answer but when we glide to a stop, instead of stepping away she leans in. "Because you wouldn't constantly be looking at another woman otherwise."

---

RPOV

Seeing him with Natasha made me angry. Seeing him dance with Lissa made me wistful.

But seeing him move so easily and seamlessly with Sofia made me burn with resentment.

The first woman he was ever with was shrouded in the Royal colour, incarnate of everything I wasn't. Someone so vibrant and sturdy, feminine and yet robust – someone who Spiridon had once admired and adored, that could harness his affection and the…interest of the man I loved.

A woman that had two eminent warriors in her grasp at one time.

Who introduced him to the things that he showed me.

The stem of my champagne flute snaps.

Adrian, without a word, discreetly takes it from me and passes it off to a nearby waiter. Not having much trouble with being discreet seeing our entire friend group were enthralled by the turn of events.

"Out of all people." Natalie says again, "She's picked him. Him? I don't get it. Someone make it make sense."

"He is really good-looking." Lissa answers and then hesitantly adds, "Sofia said…they knew each other in school."

I tear my eyes away from the scene on the floor to her. "What else did she say?"

"Oh… I mean, she and Natasha don't get on. That much was clear."

Natalie all but breaks her neck at the information, "Really? Well, that explains why her face is stuck that way. Look. Look."

"Stop it." Lissa scolds to which Natalie starts giggling.

"Am I the only one putting this together? He has a thing for Royal women, and she just happens to make a beeline for him when she walks in…seriously?" Ralf says, spelling it out for everyone and for the first time in my life I wish I couldn't read.

Natalie's hand suddenly grasps my arms, shock eclipsing her expression and it makes my stomach sink.

"Sofia…" She sounds out, eyes swinging between Lissa and I. "SOFIA."

"Yes, we know her name, Natalie."

"No! The lists. Lissa, the lists!"

"What are…oh. OH."

Some Russian gal…

I close my eyes, my body starting to vibrate with…with something that was like rage but more destructive, like longing but far more selfish and like desire but more consuming.

"Are you okay?" Adrian asks, low and urgent.

"I need to use the restroom."

He directs me to the one off from the main entrance hall, so I don't risk being cornered by his mother or someone with her opinions.

I take long, deep breaths running my wrists under cold water.

Vaguely I hear the door swing open, but I don't turn, concentrating on cooling this force erupting inside of me.

"Roza."

I keep my eyes on the running water, the cool stream no longer having any desired effect. I straighten, checking my reflection and taking reassurance from the armour reflected before facing him.

Tension rigs his body and he's trying so hard to hide it, but I have spent months reading him.

I don't trust myself to speak, not knowing what to say, what hurt to sharpen first and throw out like a dagger. This energy inside churns and tunnels, barrelling high and low through my entire being.

But this is sparring again, and I can't show my hand so soon.

"Are you having a nice time?" My voice is irritatingly airy. The barest twitch in his jaw is the only tell I get. "I am."

The seconds drag out, nails on frost, before he finally says, "So I've seen."

I measure the weight of my purse and wonder if I throw it hard enough would it hurt despite its size.

"What are you doing?" He finally breaks, and when I don't answer, keeping my face clear, he steps away from the door. "Is this to make a point? Because believe me you've made it."

"Have I?" I smile, leaning back against the counter, my dress throwing diamonds across the floor.

His eyes drop for a fleeting second and there's a hot curl in my stomach.

"Yes." He says tightly, "It's been…difficult to watch."

I hum. "Yes, now imagine that all the time. Imagine having really, really, hard days and the only person you can talk to, you can't, because they have to spend their time with someone else. And then you find out more good news from other people whilst they speculate if I'm sleeping with someone or not."

It's a sore point, a dent in my bedroom wall can attest, but I don't particularly care.

He closes his eyes for a moment, and I think I've landed the first hit. "I came to explain last night but you wouldn't listen."

Calmly, I open my bag. Then I hurl my phone at him. It makes a satisfying thud against his chest before he catches it.

"I understand my intelligence is limited but isn't that device sort of a vital means of communication? Didn't Ben specifically design a network so you could communicate?"

His fingers curl around it, his chest rising and mask cracking.

"I wanted to tell you in person, where I could see for myself how you were reacting because I can't trust you to tell me how you feel sometimes."

"Well, now you can see for yourself! I told you once that I didn't want to depend on you, that I couldn't think like that and then when I embraced that I did, you reminded me why I shouldn't."

I reel back, not realising I'd moved across the remaining space between us.

"That's not fair." He says quietly, "Rose, that's…"

"That's how I feel."

I mean to step around him, the skirt of my dress pushing between us, but fingers catch my arm as I reach for the door. The mask is gone, emotion bright and burning in his features and so surprising I lean back.

"Everything I do, I do for you, and for us. I couldn't come to you without risk, and I don't believe for one second you think I chose to ignore you or put you last. I know you don't believe that. I sent Spiridon to tell you about them finding out about the estate and to fill you in about Stan because for whatever reason sometimes he knows how to talk to you." He holds up my phone. "Ben is paying close attention because Natasha is constantly in contact, and he sends it on to Victor. I asked one of the boys your friends with to tell you I was looking for you when you were going to the pool." The hand holding me draws me closer and when he speaks his voice cracks, "Don't tell me you can't depend on me."

Something like rage but more destructive, like longing but far more selfish, like desire but more consuming…

"Don't." He says again, softer. "I've been desperate and equally terrified to know what you've had enough of because tonight showed me how much more you might want." He exhales, his breath heady and tinted with orange. "Things Ivashkov's can offer."

I can't help it. "Things like Sofia Tarus already offered?"

His expression becomes loaded with exasperation that everything in me rears in defence.

"Years ago, Rose! Something I can't change just like I can't change a contract that binds me, but I'm trying to. And while I'm trying to do this, I've spent the entire night looking at you, feeling like I was being pulled apart. Watching you in the arms of other men, knowing what every one of them are thinking, how they want nothing more than to unwrap you and – "

I wrest my arm away with more force than necessary, "All I wanted was to wear a nice dress that you would see and find an excuse to sneak away with you. To make time… that's all I wanted."

And somewhere my voice had turned over, displayed the vulnerable underbelly and I was suddenly exposed. But before I can hate myself for it his shoulders drop, the frustration leaving his face so he's looking at me like…like only how he looks at me.

"So, let's make time."

He moves and the force I've been trying to harness detonates. Dimitri's hand cups the back of my head to soften the impact, his mouth colliding with mine as we fall back, and I'm sealed between his body and the door.

The kiss holds us both, suspending time until the smallest noise of our lips breaking apart. And then we're falling again.

His fingers curl into my hair, tilting my head so his tongue can sink into my mouth and rendering my body to a fever.

It's like we're still fighting only our tongues aren't shaping words as they spar.

My hands dip inside his jacket, irritated that there's so much stiff clothing, it conflicts with my sensory memory of him and I want it off. My nails rake the fabric of his shirt as he presses in closer, leaving little room to accomplish my goal. My frustration flares brighter than before.

So, I bite his lip.

The noise he makes is deliciously dark and satisfying – until the retaliation is to tug my head back in his hold, exposing my throat.

"Are we still fighting, Roza?" He asks silkily and I shudder when he presses a wet kiss under my ear.

"Yes."

He hums and then his breath crests my ear as he reminds me, "Physical challenges."

I rack my brain for the right words to throw back, tempting but thorny, as his mouth hovers over mine, taunting me.

So, this time, testing my restraints, I look at him from under my lashes and barely graze his lips.

Teasing.

His hold loosens in defeat, "God help me."

And then when he kisses me there is no holding back or games. It's consuming. His hands move over my dress, risking the sharp edges and cutting gems, and I clasp the back of his neck, his shoulders, straining higher on these heels.

I gasp when one arm snakes around my waist, the other gripping low on my thigh, lifting me and pinning me with his hips.

It shows me what a disadvantage I'd been at. My tongue slides against his, fingers pressing into the sweet spot of his neck, over those tattooed marks, and he groans, sinking further against me.

It's hard to breathe.

Drowning.

He breaks from my mouth to dip lower, tracing a path with his lips and tongue until his teeth graze the swell of my breasts. I become aware of his fingers skimming over the thin, sleek barrier covering my legs. Under my knee, sailing up my thigh until cresting to the lace band and splaying over my skin.

"Dimitri."

Hearing his name just encourages him and my heart is thundering, this dress is too tight and I need –

A banging on the door cleaves through the air. I freeze but he pulls me tighter to him, tension tight through his body, ready for the fight.

"Rose, are you in there?" Adrian calls, "Because if you are, you should come out before Lissa thinks to look here and if not…well, sorry whoever you are. Carry on."

I let out the breath I've been holding, dragging in another. He looks at me, the gold chips alight with fervour, a hunger not satisfied.

I close my eyes.

"I'll be right out!"

I feel him sigh and then he lowers me back to my feet.

I fix his collar and then step away to catch sight of my reflection, smoothing my curls back down and adjusting the bodice of my dress.

"Rose."

"Don't." I murmur, turning and striding back for the door. He doesn't move and I'm forced to look back up at him. "Move, please."

He does, dark eyes intense and harnessing things that would lead to more arguments, verbal or otherwise…

Stepping into the hall allows me to reach for some control, to grasp it by my fingertips so I might have a hope of calming.

Until I see Adrian's cocky expression as he lounges against the wall, a figure cut from Natalie's magazines.

I spin and set off back toward the main hall.

He falls into step beside me, "Are we going to talk about my theories now? I think it's unavoidable."

"Don't –"

"Don't you 'don't' me." He chides, taking my arm and folding it through his, forcing me to fall into his slower gait. "And slow down, you're making yourself look guilty."

I take another deep breath, my body thrumming with energy that needs to be released, my skin still tingling from his lips and his touch.

"And for my sake, can you calm down before I'm either blind or intoxicated by the…vibe you're throwing off."

I flush. "Shut up."

He laughs as we bank through the wide door into the enormous room that is livelier than before.

"Tell me, Rose, when did it stop being a crush?"

I skim the room, seeing the battle lines drawn more clearly, scored between my friends and strangers. Between and around the Royals and Guardians. All dependent on a golden rule, one they were so fond of repeating.

'They come first'

But somehow Adrian, Lord Ivashkov, the embodiment of all that should be divinely set on this rule - is firmly on my side, where the lines are drawn more narrowly than the rest.

So, what he says next doesn't panic me.

"When did you fall in love with him?"

---

Note: When I say this chapter was labour...I do not exaggerate. AND IT IS STILL MISSING LIKE THREE KEY ELEMENTS - that will all be put into the next one as the ball wraps up.

The Pa..t...rOn.s will see the first finished draft of this chapter and will be like 'wtf is this?' because I had lost all sense and way. Honestly. I ran with so many ideas, completely thrown by having so many characters in a room.

So saying that - THANK YOU, to Maddy, who is my first mate, who steps in when the ship is going off course and says 'Angel, I know you can do better than this.' and reminds me of core themes/traits/messages in this story. Who also writes down my ideas from months ago when I don't and gives me the best pep talks.

Anyway, if anything, enjoy this time, because for those perceptive enough to pick up the foreshadowing and easter eggs... you know...

x