I lied, of course. My first class doesn't start for another fifteen minutes, and showing up this early would harm the reputation I've worked so hard to destroy. I'd also like some space from Lissa for a little bit, and she knows me well enough to know where to look for me. So I walk towards the one place I go when I need to let off steam; a place that's far away from all the Royals, including Lissa.

There's a closet in the corner of the gym where the dhampirs train. It's full of all sorts of guards and mats that I assume they use during class, but it provides a nice soft dark place away from all of the prying eyes, not to mention my Moroi friends. I've always found most Royals to be tiring.

I sit on the dusty floor and lean against the wall, trying my best to clear my mind as I breathe in the sweat-scented solitude. I reach inside my brain to the warmth that's never very far away and allow it to take over. Focussing on this feeling, I summon a tiny flame on the tip of my pinkie finger. It's something that I've found to be oddly comforting in the past.

I let my mind wander, allowing the flame to change from orange to purple to green and back again. Somewhere in the colours, I hear my internal monologue.

She is always pushing me to do better, to be better. I've never been the daughter that she wanted, and I know that I never will be. I've accepted it, even if she won't. But this is something that I excel at, that I take pride in. It's the one thing that I've actually had to work for, instead of been handed on a silver platter.

But the thing that gets me is that if I'd been an air user, or even a water user, she wouldn't have freaked out. There's such a stigma against elemental fire magic. Everyone looks into the flames and sees destruction, but only because they're not willing to look any closer. Sometimes I feel like they see me the same way. Maybe there's a reason that my temperament matches the element so well.

I don't know how much time has passed when there's a knock on the door.

"Is someone smoking in there?" calls a familiar voice.

I bury my vulnerability in a grin, pushing those thoughts to the back of my mind. "I'm always smokin', Ashford, that's why you like me so much."

A crack of light appears as the door opens, and I let the flame go out. Mason Ashford's face smiles down at me.

"Oh, hey, Rose. I was just about to start setting up for class. You need some help?"

"Thanks," I reply, taking the proffered hand. He hauls me to my feet, holding my hand just a moment longer than necessary.

"Anytime."

"I should probably get going," I say, suppressing a smile. "I don't want to be too late; I'm already in trouble."

"What else is new?" he laughs. "Okay, I guess I'll see you around. I'd tell you to be good if I thought you'd listen."

"But it's mostly because deep down you know that you don't want me to. I'll see you later, Mason."

I walk across the gym, adding a little extra sway to my hips for his benefit. When I'm outside once again in the fresh night air, I'm pleased to notice that my headache is gone. Once I've made sure that my feelings are safely tucked away, I almost feel happy.

"Miss Dragomir, you're late," Mrs Trotsky reprimands as I walk in. There's no real conviction in her voice, and so I put none in my reply.

"Sorry, Ma'am, I got held up."

There are several snickers from the class.

"I'm putting this on your record, young lady," she scolds while I take my seat at the back of the room.

"Go ahead, but I can't guarantee that there's any space left."

At this, the class erupts into laughter and Mrs Trotsky sighs. "Okay, let's not let Her Ladyship deprive us of any more of our education. Please turn to the next chapter in your textbooks."

There's a storm of rustling pages around me as the students comply.

In a sick turn of events, I receive my summons in the middle of the only lesson that I actually enjoy; Vampire History. That's not the actual name of the subject, of course, but I find that the addition of 'Vampire' makes it sound much more exciting. That, and we don't learn the same syllabus as the humans, so I think it's actually more fitting that way.

I would think that my mother planned this to further my punishment, but since she doesn't know the first thing about me, she sure as hell doesn't know what my favourite subject is. I write it off as Murphy's Law, and internally shake my fist at the universe.

The messenger interrupts Mr Peter mid-sentence as he stands in front of the class, regaling us all with tales of the hilarious sticky ends of various Moroi monarchs throughout history.

"I'm sorry, Mr Peter? I was sent to bring Rosemarie Dragomir to the Headmistress."

My teacher sighs and hunts through the faces of his students until his twinkling blue eyes connect with my own.

"Miss Dragomir, please take your things with you," he says. "And you should think about getting a frequent visitors' card. At least then you would get a free cup of coffee every once in a while."

"I'll look into it, Sir," I grin, before following the messenger out the door. I keep my attitude up, trying to form some mental armour before this confrontation. I have a feeling that it's going to be bad.

The Moroi intern that my mother sent is redundant. I've travelled the path to her office so frequently that I'm surprised I haven't worn a rut into the cobblestone yet. I suppose there is always the likelihood that I won't show up, but I hardly see what this scrawny intern could do about it if I made up my mind not to go. I have an amusing urge to simply sit down in the middle of the quad, just to see what she does, but I've tried my mother's patience enough for one day.

This office is almost the mirror image of the one at home, apart from the photos. Apparently, when she's at school she wants to associate with me as little as possible. I can't say I blame her much.

When I enter the room, there are two people present apart from the headmistress and her highly disapproving expression. One of them is a stranger, the other a welcome sight in the midst of all the hostility.

"Hey, Dad, welcome back!"

My father, dressed in a three-piece cream suit and peacock feather print scarf, pushes away from the wall he was leaning against to give me a hug.

"My trip would have been longer if it weren't for my delinquent daughter," he laughs, pressing a kiss into my hair.

My mother left her surname behind when she married Ibrahim Mazur the day after her twentieth birthday. My father is not royal himself, but still somehow possessed enough Dragomir blood to sire a daughter of the Dragomir line. It's kind of hard for me to imagine a version of my cold, proper mother that would get swept up in a whirlwind romance, let alone marry a man like my father and abandon her title that I would one day inherit. However, my existence is substantial proof that it took place. My father can also be very persuasive, which comes in handy in his line of work.

Abe likes to call himself a businessman, and I suppose that by some stretch of the imagination, this is true. He just happens to be involved in more than one business venture that isn't entirely above-board. As such, he can easily provide for his beautiful wife and daughter, and is far more connected than any person should be. His experience in working with dangerous situations makes him an excellent mediator when it comes to the fights between my mother and me.

"Sit down, Rose," my mother says. I do as instructed-however, as I do, I can't help but shoot a curious glance at the stranger that stands behind me.

He's a dhampir.

That, paired with his blank expression and rigid posture, marks him clearly as a guardian. He's a little younger than the ones I normally see though, and impressively tall. Incredibly good looking too. With his chin-length brown hair tied back, and these dark brown eyes that sparkle with intelligence. He's wearing a long brown leather jacket like something out of the Matrix, which would look dorky on the other 99.9% of the population, but makes him look ridiculously badass.

I wonder what he's doing here. Several suggestions run through my brain, and none of them are good. I begin to feel the first sneaky tendrils of dread.

I turn back to my parents, pre-empting whatever fight they're about to start by stating the obvious. "You've hired me a babysitter."

My mother frowns. "You see?" she says, turning to my father, "I told you she would be like this."

He ignores her. "No, Rose. We asked that you be assigned a guardian."

"A guardian who will be following me around all the time and making sure I don't do anything stupid? Sounds like a babysitter to me."

"If he made sure you never did anything stupid, the man would never sleep," remarks my mother.

My father gives me a stern look as I open my mouth to reply. "Guardian Belikov will be protecting you from any danger you may encounter."

"Including danger that is self-inflicted," my mother adds.

My face darkens, and I feel my dubiously-held temper start to rise. "So that's what this is about; when I dried myself off this morning?"

"I suppose by that you mean the offensive spell you used that you have clearly been practicing?"

"I don't understand why you're so upset about this! I didn't hurt anyone!"

"This is about a lot of things," my father interjects, before we can really get into it. "We've been fairly liberal with you up until this point, Rose, but the time has come for you to take on some of the responsibility that your title dictates."

"This guardian has been trained to kill Strigoi, not to keep a teenage girl out of trouble. Why are you wasting his abilities on me?"

"You should have had a guardian a long time ago," says my mother, with a look of disdain. "Even though you're so keen to sully your reputation, the fact of the matter is that you are the only Dragomir left. It's time for you to grow up, and stop behaving like a petulant child."

I see red.

"I didn't ask for this!" I shout. "I never wanted to be a princess! And besides, I don't see you two doing anything to further the Dragomir line!"

"Rosemarie, that is enough!" my father thunders, and I can tell by his face that I've gone too far. His anger is terrifying to behold. "Nothing you can say will change our minds, so I suggest that you do not make things any worse for yourself."

I have no choice but to give in.

And so it is that I find myself leaving the office, with my new guardian following silently. And I mean silently. Even with my sensitive Moroi hearing, I can hardly hear him take a step. After a few minutes, I find myself looking down, just to make sure that he has feet instead of wheels or flying shoes.

"I didn't get the chance to ask for your name," I say, when the silence has started making me uncomfortable.

"Dimitri Belikov, Princess," he replies, his words tinged with a slight accent. Russian?

I cringe. "Nobody calls me princess."

"I can't imagine why." Did he almost smile? Maybe it's just a trick of the light.

"Let me rephrase: please don't call me princess."

He seems to think about that for a moment. "As you wish, Rosemarie."

"Gah, that's even worse!" I shudder. "Please, just call me Rose."

Okay, he definitely almost smiled that time. "All right."

We continue walking, until I begin to take a left turn that branches off the main path. His hand closes around my arm and brings me to a halt.

"Where do you think you're going?"

His grip doesn't hurt, but I can tell that he's not using anywhere near his full strength. At the same time, I know that I couldn't break his hold if I tried.

"To the cafeteria? I have to visit the feeders."

"There are still ten minutes of your lesson left."

I snort. "What, did you memorise my timetable?"

"Yes," he says, like the answer should have been obvious. "You need to go back to class."

I shake my head. "I'd only disrupt the lesson."

"Something that I'm sure you're used to."

"Aren't you supposed to be protecting me?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Aren't you supposed to be accepting your responsibilities?"

"If I haven't behaved responsibly in seventeen years, don't you think it might take more than a whole five minutes for me to start?" I scoff.

When he doesn't reply or remove his hand, I sigh and roll my eyes. "What if I promise to return to the classroom during lunch and find out what I missed?"

He narrows his eyes. "Fine."

I have a feeling that he'll hold me to it, but there's time to dwell on that later. Now is the time for blood.

For some reason, though the dull burn in my throat has been tolerable up until this point, at the thought of imminent feeding, it kicks into the next gear. I lengthen my strides and quicken my pace, eager for relief. My new shadow matches me with ease, with his dhampir stamina and longer legs. In fact, it's probably the equivalent of a casual stroll to him, though I'm going the fastest I can without actually running.

By the time we've reached the cafeteria, I'm out of breath, while he's barely broken a sweat. And I mean sure, I may be a borderline alcoholic teenage girl, but it really serves to point out the distinction between our races. It's a bit of a sore spot for me with my parents' disagreement over my display of magic so fresh in my mind. I don't want my inferiority to be so obvious.

But I'm distracted by the lady with a clipboard at the entrance to the room where the feeders are held.

"You should be in class," she says with a frown.

"I got pulled out early, and didn't want to disrupt the lesson," I explain. "Are there any feeders free?"

She sighs, but decides not to push it. "Name?"

"Rose Dragomir."

She looks down at her clipboard. "Hmm," she says, paging back through the register, then looks up with an expression of astonishment. "You haven't been for blood in five days!"

I feel my guardian stiffen in surprise, but I only shrug. "I guess that explains the thirst then."

I dump my bag on the floor and head over to the cubicle that I'm ushered to. I honestly think she might be afraid that I'm going to fall over or something.

"Hey April," I grin as I sit down. "How are things?"

"Rose!" exclaims the plain looking, middle-aged woman before me, that typical glassy-eyed look of a feeder momentarily brightened by her excitement. "It's been a while!"

"Yeah, you know me. I've been busy wreaking havoc."

She laughs.

"Oh, hey, I have something for you!" I exclaim. "One second, it's in my bag."

I stand up to go and get it, but Guardian Belikov is already behind me with my bag in his outstretched hand.

"Er, thanks," I say, and he nods.

I rifle through some books and other random junk that has accumulated inside my bag, and finally find what I'm looking for. I set the CD on the table.

"You're going to love this one," I say, sliding it towards her. "They're one of my favourite bands of all time. Some people find them a bit raw, but I prefer to think of it as authentic."

"Neutral Milk Hotel?" she reads, squinting a little at the cover. "Thank you, I'm sure I'll love them. But now maybe you should have some blood, before you pass out?"

I roll my eyes, but don't resist when she sweeps her greying hair to the side, and exposes her neck.

Her moan of bliss doesn't escape me, but as I sink my fangs through the layer of scar tissue on her neck, I feel the frenzy start to build inside me. It's been too long; I hadn't meant to cut it this close, but oh, that sweet taste and warmth on my tongue! I lose myself for a second in the throbbing of her heart, and the slow ebbing of her life into my own. Then I remember, and pull back.

April looks at me with stars in her eyes, but even through her high, she manages a disapproving look. "Rose, it's almost been a week. You need more than that."

"No," I shake my head. "I'm fine. Thank you. I guess I'll see you again in a couple of days. Let me know what you think of the CD."

And with a parting smile, I pick up my bag and walk back into the cafeteria, which is now filled with students. I guess it's lunch time.

Lissa waves at me from our usual table, but I'm not sure that I've forgiven her for this morning. On the other side of the room, Mason stares at me with his mouth hanging open. For a second, I think that it's a bit of an exaggerated response, but then I realise that he's actually staring at the person next to me. This draws my attention to the fact that my newly-acquired guardian is still hovering like a really big bird.

"Don't you get a lunch break or something?"

He shoots me a look. "I'm waiting for you to keep your promise."

I had been planning to go at the end of lunch, but this gives me a good excuse to avoid Lissa for a little longer. And as much as his perpetual presence irritates me, the poor guy deserves a break.

I roll my eyes. "Fine."

I walk back across the campus, guardian in tow.

Author's Note

Thanks for reading! Please leave a review to tell me what you thought! Also, if you found any mistakes, please let me know so that I can correct them. I always love hearing from you, even if I'm not so great at responding. And please feel free to favourite and follow, if you want to keep in the loop.

Tah dah! Everyone's favourite guardian is now in the picture, and I can't wait to explore how this dynamic will alter the finer points of Romitri. Honestly, I am having so much fun with this, and it can get quite challenging figuring out how Rose fits into the Moroi world. There's a very fine balance, and I hope I'm getting it right so far.

All credit for the VA universe and the characters therein goes to Richelle Mead.