"Why did Eddie cover for me?" Dimitri asked under his breath later that evening.

Stan, Elizaveta, and Blake had returned a few hours previously and we'd all just finished dinner. The others had gone through to the library, while Dimitri and I were rostered to do the dishes.

"He kind of knows about us," I whispered back.

Dimitri froze, lifting an eyebrow. Even without words, he was clearly asking 'What the hell?'

"He saw me sneaking out of your bedroom that morning," I explained. "When you spoke with us in the study, he assumed I'd had sex with you to buy your silence."

"He thought that?" Dimitri growled. I didn't know whether he was objecting to the slight on my character or his own.

"Well if you look at the circumstances, it's a logical conclusion to come to."

Dimitri shrugged but then nodded in agreement.

"Later on we talked, and I explained it wasn't what he thought. I explained that you and I loved each other."

I was trying not to look nervous as I kept washing the dishes. Dimitri was so private and so worried about the consequences should we be discovered, he was likely to flip out about this news.

"How'd he take it?" he asked with feigned casualness.

"Very supportive," I muttered. "Surprised at first, but when he thought about it, he said he's amazed he didn't see it before. He's not going to say anything."

Dimitri kept drying the dishes, silent as this new information sunk in.

"You're not angry?" I probed. Things were only just semi-resolved between my Russian God and me - the last thing I wanted was anything to upset things. Especially after the thrilling morning we'd spent together.

"It's ok," he said, although he sounded a little nervous. "But we're going to have to be a lot more careful!"

"I know," I whispered apologetically. "I'm sorry about this morning. I just got so excited…"

"I noticed!" he whispered with a smile.

"On the plus side, I don't think Artyom is ever going to be able to look at me again," I said with a giggle. "I think I've terrified him!"

Since the humiliating events in the kitchen this morning, Artyom had been actively avoiding me.

Dimitri grunted unhappily. "He's an eighteen-year-old guy who likes you. Believe me, the idea of you doing that to yourself would be anything but terrifying. If he's avoiding you, it's only because he's ridiculously turned on!"

"Do you think so?" I laughed disbelievingly.

"I know so," Dimitri said petulantly, grabbing another plate to dry. "I am…"

The next few days passed quietly. Thankfully no one felt the need to raise the topic of my 'self-loving,' although Dimitri was right about one thing. If anything, Artyom's attentions towards me had multiplied. And as they did, so did Elizaveta's vitriol.

"I think she's jealous of you," Meredith commented as we trudged through the undergrowth following my Mom to the ranger's cabin. "She's really really close to her brother. I don't think she likes the idea that he's into you."

"Well, I'm not into him," I defended.

"No. You're into someone a lot taller and darker."

I closed my mouth my thoughts reeling.

"It's ok, Rose. I think it's sweet. I know you can't be public about things until you graduate, so I won't say anything."

"Is it that obvious?" I hissed.

"I had my suspicions before the rescue, but when you went back for him, I knew for sure then."

I groaned. 'Dimitri and Rose'; St. Vladimir's worst kept secret, by the sound of it.

"Does anyone else suspect?"

"Not that I've noticed," she reassured me before increasing the speed of her steps and drawing closer to Mom.

The cabin looked the same way it always had. No cars, curtains open and no sign of occupation. Still, we didn't talk as we dutifully made our way around the cabin from within the tree line. If there was someone in there, it didn't pay to announce our presence. Satisfied the building was still unoccupied, we started the hike back to the car.

Once we were a mile from the cabin, Mom started up one of her teaching discussions. It was a productive use of time, and since hiking was generally boring, it helped the time to pass.

"Since it's just us girls today, I thought I might run through some of the more challenging aspects of being a female Guardian," my mother started ominously. For the next hour, she ran us through a variety of tips and tricks to get out of awkward situations we might encounter, as well as warning us about certain Moroi and male Guardians well known for having a predatory interest in young female Guardians. It was a sobering warning and a reminder that my Mom was a renowned female Guardian for a reason. Grudgingly I admitted what she said had merit.

"It hasn't escaped my attention that Novice Vitsin is interested in you, Rosemarie," my mother said out of Meredith's earshot as we were approaching the car. "I hope you're not doing anything to encourage him?"

"I know, and no," I sighed. "He's a nice guy, but I don't feel that way about him."

"Make sure he knows that," my mother directed. "You can't afford for people - for men - to get the wrong idea about you. It isn't fair, and it isn't right, but as a female Guardian, you need to be vigilant about your reputation. There are men out there who will justify their actions to themselves, and others, on the basis of a reputation they'll try and give you."

We climbed into the car and set off toward the property, Meredith driving, me as second.

That night I was feeling restless. Dimitri wasn't in the library with the rest of us. He was upstairs in his room making his once a week phone call to his family. While he wasn't allowed to tell them where he was or much about what he was doing, between his mother, grandmother, three sisters, a nephew and the excitement of a newly arrived niece, he joked he wasn't required to say much, anyway!

I walked up the stairs, loitering on the landing outside Dimitri's room where I could hear tinny laughter through a phone speaker, and occasionally Dimitri's warm voice speaking in his native tongue. He sounded relaxed and happy, and it was with a pang that I thought I'd never have that - a playful, relaxed conversation with my family. My only family was sitting downstairs, giving me pointed glances every time Artyom gave me one of his hopeful ones.

Mom was right. I did have to set Artyom straight, and I would. But not tonight.

I lay on my bed toying with my phone, wondering what time it was in Russia. It was 8.00 pm here. A quick check of the world time app on my phone revealed it was 8.00 am in Baia where Dimitri's family lived. Of course, Russia was huge. I wondered what time it was where my father possibly lived. I checked the Russian address and then plugged the town name into the world time app. 9 am.

Whether he ran on a Moroi or human timetable, it would be a reasonable time to ring. Either the start or the end of his day. Not too early or too late. But then what would I say? "Hi! My name is Rose Hathaway, and I think you might be my father?"

I chuckled. Well, I suppose it did get all the pertinent info across…

I stared at the photo I'd taken of the screen with my father's photo and information. Chances are the number wasn't even current, I reassured myself as I jotted the number down on the back of my training notepad.

I dialed the numbers before my good sense had a chance to stop me. I wanted to know, didn't I? Didn't I have a right to know?

There was nothing for quite some time. Just the beep of numbers and then some electronic clicks followed by what sounded like a ring tone.

Now I'd done it I wasn't sure I wanted to. I was just about to hang up when the phone was answered. In Russian. At least I thought it was Russian. Oh shit! I hadn't thought about it, but what if he couldn't speak English? Mom didn't speak Russian. Or Turkish. She wouldn't have had sex with a guy she couldn't communicate with. Would she?

The man on the other end repeated his greeting, sounding a little cranky.

"Um? Hello? Is that Ibrahim Mazur?" I asked, my voice quivering. I sounded all of about ten years old, I thought with embarrassment.

"Who wants to know?" the man said, switching into flawless albeit slightly accented English. Well. That was one question answered I guess!

"Rose Hathaway. I'm looking for Ibrahim Mazur. I think he might be my father."

There was silence on the line, and then the man started laughing uproariously. He was almost gasping for air he was laughing so much.

"No seriously, who is this?" he asked, sounding amused.

I was mortified. I hadn't thought he might find my phone call funny.

"I'm sorry! This was a stupid idea," I said, quickly hanging up.

I threw my phone down on the bed beside me. I was so embarrassed. I'd rung the man who might be my father only to have him not believe me. I felt like such an idiot. Even if he was my father, I doubt he'd want anything to do with me, now. That's what happens when you act without a plan, I mentally castigated myself, angrily wiping at the tears trickling down my cheeks.

I was about to get up and head for the shower when my phone rang. I picked it up, looking at the caller ID in alarm.

Oh hell! It was him! I hadn't blocked my caller ID when I'd rung him, and now he was ringing me back.

Did I answer it? Let it go to voicemail? This might be my only chance. He might not reach out again.

I answered the phone somehow managing to drop it at the same time.

"Fuck!" I growled, picking it up and then saying a cautious hello.

"Rose Hathaway?" the same voice as before asked.

"Yes?"

"This is Ibrahim Mazur. Abe. I'm sorry about before. Your call took me by surprise. So you think I might be your father?"

"Um. Hi. Yeah." I didn't know what else to say.

"So I suppose your mother is Janine Hathaway? Red haired Guardian?" he asked sounding a little amused yet also nervous.

"That's right," I confirmed with a skittish laugh.

"And how old are you?" he continued.

"I turned eighteen a few weeks ago," I supplied. He was quiet for a moment, and then I heard him muttering something to someone else in another language and them replying in agreement.

"So what makes you think I'm your father? Is that what your mother told you?"

"No. My mother has never told me anything about my father. I did some of my own investigations, and your name came up. I also found a photo of you, and we look a lot alike."

"Is that so?" He sounded amused again.

"Yeah. I have your hair," I said with a little laugh.

"So Rose?" he said my name cautiously. Even a little fearfully. "What is it you want?"

"I don't know," I admitted, surprisingly myself by starting to cry. "I'm not very close with my mother, and I've never known anything of my family background. I guess I just want to know where it is I come from," I whispered in embarrassment into my phone.

I woke up the next morning feeling strangely at peace. Abe and I had spoken for over an hour last night, and while we didn't get into the nitty gritty of things, he admitted that based on timing, there was a chance he was my father. He'd asked me to send him a photo, which I did straight after I'd got off the phone; snapping off about twenty selfies until I found one I didn't hate too much.

I'd texted it across then left my phone on my bed while I went to take a shower.

'You have my eyes as well as my hair' was on the screen when I came back into the room. 'I'll be in touch, Abe.'

I couldn't help but see things in a different light the next morning when I came down to breakfast. Somehow, having even my most basic questions answered had made me feel more settled.

I sat in silence, eating my toast and running over the new information in my head. Ibrahim – Abe as he preferred to be called – was forty-one, single and up until last night he'd believed he had no children. He described himself as a businessman with interests throughout Europe and to a lesser extent the United States.

I'd told him about growing up at the Academy, running away with Lissa and the attack on the school. I knew I couldn't tell him about the mission I was on, so I'd explained the senior Novices had been sent off on a variety of simulated missions, or to other academies to finish their training. I'd mentioned I'd been sent to Wyoming with five other students and three Guardians, one of whom was Mom.

He'd seemed particularly interested in my relationship with Mom, so I'd explained we had next to no connection and things were generally strained between us. Although I was curious as hell, he didn't say anything at all about his own relationship with my mother; beyond telling me he hadn't seen or heard of her in almost nineteen years. Reading between the lines, my assumption I was the result of a one night stand seemed to be correct.

Still – he'd seemed interested in me, and his text had been promising. I didn't know what I wanted from him, but so far so good.

"Rosemarie? Are you listening?" my mother asked, giving me a sharp look.

"Sorry, Mom. I was daydreaming," I admitted, lifting my eyes apologetically to meet hers.

"I was saying how pleased I am with the progress you've all been making," she continued. "I've looked at the roster, and unless something comes up, I thought the weekend after this one, Guardian Belikov could take Eddie, Meredith and yourself to Sheridan for the weekend. Everyone's been working hard, and you four didn't get to go on the last night away."

Eddie, Meredith and I were grinning. A night away from the compound was something to look forward to! We'd all been on shopping missions to Sheridan - nine Dhampir on premises meant we had to do a big grocery shop every week - but a night in town meant we could catch a movie, go out to a restaurant and actually relax! And better still, the twins, Blake, Stan and my mother wouldn't be there!

My eyes flicked to my Russian God, and I could see he was pretty excited by the idea, too. With a bit of luck, we might be able to sneak away from the others for some romantic time together. It shouldn't be too hard given they both knew about us.

"Of course, we expect perfect behavior between now and then," Stan growled, looking at everyone but particularly me.

"Artyom? We've got a Guardian Protocols session with Guardian Alto in half an hour. I was wondering whether you'd like to take a walk with me first?" I asked innocuously at the end of breakfast the next day.

His head shot up, and he agreed instantly. I gave him a small tight smile, turning to put my empty dishes in the sink. I hadn't missed my mother's approving look. I wandered out through the mudroom, Artyom following close on my heels.

"So how are you enjoying America so far?" I asked as I set out walking around the house. "Is it what you expected?"

"It's been full of unexpected surprises," he said in his accented voice, giving me a tender look. "It's much more beautiful than I thought it would be. I'm enjoying my time here very much."

He reached out and tried to grab my hand, but I quickly lifted it to scratch my neck, taking it out of his reach.

"That's nice," I said trying to steer the conversation away from murky waters. "I've heard Russia is also very beautiful. I hope to see it one day."

It was the worst thing I could have said. Artyom seemed to take it as some sort of covert message of love, his eyes lighting up immediately.

"I'd love to show it to you one day, Roza."

I shivered. I knew Roza was the Russian version of my name, but coming out of a mouth other than Dimitri's, it sounded wrong.

"Rose. My name is Rose," I said quickly. "Artyom? I don't want to read too much into things, but I've been getting the idea that you might kind of like me?" He didn't say anything, but his look was smoldering. "I thought we should talk about that…"

We were walking around the side of the house near the sparring ring, and I swear I'd rather spar with even Blake than be having this conversation.

"Roz.. Rose – you're right. I like you very much," Artyom said, stopping me and pulling me into his arms. Before I knew it, his lips were on mine, and he was kissing me. I was so shocked I couldn't react. Being kissed by him was strange. Nothing at all like kissing Dimitri.

I pushed him away with an incensed look.

"Artyom! I brought you out here to tell you I'm not interested in you in that way!" I snapped. "I'm not interested in being anything other than friends!"

"If you gave me a chance, I am sure you'd find we could be good together," he said, trying to snake his arm around my waist again.

"She said no," an indignant Dimitri said stepping around the corner of the house. He must have seen and heard everything. "Get into the sparring ring, Novice Vitsin," he snarled, a vein in his forehead throbbing with anger. "Someone needs to teach you some manners!"