Only for Rose would he get up at such an ungodly hour. He always felt like a mindless zombie if he didn't get a full eight hours of sleep—he probably looked like one too. It couldn't have been more than three hours since he'd passed out on the bed. Thank God he had the foresight to set his alarm before he'd started drinking. Of course, he'd hit the snooze button about twenty seven times, so now he was running late.

Walking towards the church, he spotted Lissa and Christian coming out the door, surrounded by a steady stream of people—all of them eager to get on with their day off, now that their duty to God having been fulfilled for the week.

When the place had cleared out, he approached the open door, pausing right outside when he heard voices coming from within. He cursed when he realized that Rose wasn't alone. Belikov apparently had the same damned idea as Lissa.

"What are you doing here?" Rose asked.

"Thought you might need some help. I hear the priest wants to do a lot of housecleaning."

"Yeah, but you're not the one being punished here. And this is your day off too. We—well, everyone else—spent the whole week battling it out, but you guys were the ones picking the fights the whole time."

"What else would I do today?"

Adrian could think of a couple things he wished the Russian would do. Like find someone his own damn age, or better yet, play in traffic. He stalked off, furious that once again, his plans were ruined. Convincing Tatiana that Rose and Lissa needed to go to Court was beginning to look like the only way he'd be able to get on his little dhampir's good side.

Shit. It was time to make a phone call. Squaring his shoulders, he returned to his room, ready to beg, if need be, in order to make his Rosebud happy.

Tatiana could be a stubborn old cow, but in the end, she caved. The fact he told her Lissa's powers were coming back might have had something to do with it, but that was only a small part of what changed her mind. The queen had a history of being unable to deny him when he really, really wanted something. All it took was the slightest bit of pleading, and she agreed.

He, Adrian Ivashkov, had succeeded where Dimitri Belikov had failed. He would be able to give Rose something she wanted. Checkmate! The thought of how happy the news would make her washed away the frustration he'd experienced upon hearing Belikov's accented voice from inside the church. Smiling to himself he lit a cigarette, sinking down on the couch to daydream about tomorrow, and how grateful Rose would be when she received her summons.

He was walking towards the private jets when Belikov called out to him. Sighing in frustration, he stared at the other man, wondering what the hell he wanted.

"I should have known it was you—how did you do it?"

Dimitri's aura was full of anger, laced lightly with sadness. Adrian smiled, knowing the reason. Rose was going to Court, and it wasn't Belikov who'd secured her passage. He'd failed her, and it was eating away at him.

"I asked." He smirked.

The tall man glared down at him, then walked away, shaking his head. Whatever—he didn't have time for melodramatic Russians today. He wanted to get on board and get a drink in his hand. All morning he'd felt the heavy weight of spirit pressing against him, and he needed to lubricate himself to keep the crazies at bay.

He'd just gotten his drink when Rose boarded the plane. "Little dhampir! About time you got here."

The look on her face was… priceless. She was shocked to see him, not to mention outraged. She brushed past him, ignoring him as she claimed the seat next to Eddie. He frowned, wondering if now would be an opportune time to mention the role he'd played in this little endeavor. No, he would let her find out on her own. That way, it wouldn't seem as if he were bragging.

He claimed the seat in front of Rose, turning around from time to time attempting to chat with her. It wasn't so much that he was trying to flirt—he was still planning on playing hard to get—it was because he had to keep his mind busy. He could sense that if he didn't keep up a running commentary, he'd start spouting insane things and freak everyone out.

"We're going to Court," He smiled at her. "Aren't you excited about it?"

She closed her eyes, frowning as she rubbed her temples. "About which one? The royal one or the legal one?"

"The royal one. Did you bring a dress?" God, he wanted to see her in a dress again. Like that red one she'd worn at the resort.

"Nobody told me to." She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, a pained expression on her face.

"So … that's a 'no.'" He caught Belikov glaring at him, and fought back the urge to stick out his tongue. Or flip him the bird.

"Yes."

He tore his attention away from the Russian, confused. "Yes? I thought you meant no."

She opened one eye and glared. "I did mean no, and you know it. No, I did not bring a dress."

"We'll get you one," he said loftily. A red one. No—he didn't want other men staring at his Rosebud. Red would attract too much attention. Maybe black, like the one she'd worn in Belikov's dream.

"You're going to take me shopping? I'm going to go out on a limb and guess they won't consider you a reliable chaperone."

"Shopping? As if. There are tailors that live there. We'll get you something custom-made." She deserved the best, after all. He was practically bouncing with excitement. He couldn't wait to show her around Court. There were so many things to see.

"We're not staying that long. And do I really need a dress for what we're doing there?"

"No," he smiled at her, "I'd just kind of like to see you in one."

She sighed and leaned her head against the window. He watched her, noticing how tense she looked. His eyes flicked to the energy that surrounded her, and he winced. The blackness was… moving. Rolling like a thundercloud across a stormy sky. Like an impending warning of doom—

He shook his head. Talk, he needed to talk more, to dispel the ideas that were pounding into his brain. "Something black. Satin, I think… maybe with lace trim. Do you like lace? Some women think it itches."

"Adrian."

"You could get a nice velvet trim too, though. That wouldn't itch."

"Adrian."

"And then a slit up the side to show off what great legs you have. It could go nearly to the hip and have this cute little bow—"

"Adrian!" She shrieked. "Will you shut the hell up for five seconds?"

He stared over his shoulder at her, stunned by her outburst. What the hell? Kneeling on his seat, he leaned over the back, studying her expression. Her face was twisted, as if she were in pain. Belikov was on his feet in a flash, heading up the aisle with a dangerous look on his face. Adrian could almost swear the man had grown… bigger, bristling as soon as he heard Rose cry out.

Alberta—who had strangely enough chosen the seat across the aisle from him—shot up in her seat. "Rose," she exclaimed. "What's going on?"

"I have the worst fucking headache in the world, and he won't shut up." Rubbing her forehead, she winced. "God, why won't it go away?"

Christians voice drifted through the plane. "She hasn't eaten today. She was really hungry earlier."

Alberta turned to one of the flight attendants. "Can you get her something to eat? And find a painkiller?"

Belikov glared at him one final time, then switched his attention to Rose. The instant he looked down at her, the fierce look faded, replaced with a look of tenderness. Alberta bit her lip, trying not to smile at the sudden change. Catching Adrian's eye, she winked.

"Where's it at?" Dimitri asked her. "The pain?" He ducked his head down, his whole body leaning towards her. For a moment, Adrian thought the Russian was about to scoop her up in his arms. Alberta apparently had the same thought, because she shifted, 'accidentally' bumping him. That brief movement appeared to remind him that they were on a plane full of passengers—he caught himself before he did something stupid.

"It's a headache…I'm sure it'll go away…" She pointed to the center of my forehead. "It's like something pushing on my skull. And there's pain kind of behind my eyes. I keep feeling like…well, it's like I've got something in my eye. I think I'm seeing a shadow or something. Then I blink and it's gone."

"Ah," said Alberta. "That's a migraine symptom—having vision problems. It's called an aura. People sometimes get it before the headache sets in."

"An aura?" She asked, glanced up at Adrian.

"Not that kind," he said, a small smile turning up his lips. "Same name. Like Court and court. Migraine auras are images and light you see when a migraine's coming on. They have nothing to do with the auras around people I see. But I tell you… " he flicked his eyes back to the air around her. Good God, it was bigger than ever. So much dark. Too much. "The aura I can see … the one around you … wow."

"Black?"

"And then some. It's obvious even after all the drinks I've had. Never seen anything like it."

The flight attendant handed her a pitifully small snack, which she scarfed down almost immediately. Adrian watched as she propped a pillow up against the window and closed her eyes with a sigh.

He shot a pointed look at Lissa—she seemed oblivious to the fact that her friend was suffering, happily whispering away with Christian. Fishing an ice cube out of his glass, he hurled it at her, landing a direct hit in the center of her forehead. Her hand flew to her head, her expression shocked as she stared at him in disbelief. He glared at her, jerking his head in Rose's direction. Shame flared through her aura as she realized what he wanted her to do. Good, he thought, she should feel bad. He shouldn't have to remind Lissa to heal the girl who would gladly lay her life on the line for her friend. He shifted in the chair again, hanging over the seat, watching intently.

She made her way over to Rose, gently rubbing her arm. "Rose?"

Opening her eyes, she peered at Lissa, flinching slightly.

"You're still in pain?" Lissa asked, watching her.

"Yeah, I—oh no." She murmured. "Don't do it. Don't waste it on me."

"It's easy," she said. "It hardly fazes me."

"Yeah, but the more you use it… the more it hurts you in the long run. Even if it's easy now."

"I'll worry about that later. Here…"

She clasped Rose's hand between hers and closed her eyes.

He watched Lissa's aura flare with bright white light, instantly concerned. It did nothing. The darkness around Rose seemed to draw even closer to her body than it had been seconds before. What the hell was up with that?

Lissa's eyelids fluttered open. "Wh—what happened?" she asked.

"Nothing," Rose whispered. "The headache's still going strong."

"But I…" Lissa looked flabbergasted. "I had it. I felt the magic. It worked."

"I don't know, Liss. It's okay, really. You haven't been off the meds that long, you know."

"Yeah, but I healed Eddie the other day without any problems. And Adrian," she added.

"Those were scrapes," Rose said. "This is a five-alarm migraine we're talking about. Maybe you've got to build back up."

Lissa bit her lower lip. "You don't think the pills permanently hurt my magic, do you?"

"Nah," he interjected, head tilted to the side. "You lit up like a supernova when you were summoning it. You had magic. I just don't think it had any effect on her."

"Why not?" she demanded.

"Maybe she's got something you can't heal."

"A headache?" Rose asked in disbelief.

God, he hoped it was nothing serious. What if the darkness were a warning—an omen or portent of some internal ailment? He narrowed his eyes, concentrating. No—everything showed that she was perfectly healthy, as far as her aura was concerned. He shrugged. "What do I look like, a doctor? I don't know. Just telling you what I saw."

Rose sighed and placed a hand on her forehead. "Well, I appreciate the help, Liss, and I appreciate your annoying commentary, Adrian. But I think sleep might be the best thing for now. Maybe it's stress or something. Probably can't heal that."

"Maybe," Lissa said, sounding slightly offended.

"It's okay," she soothingly. "You're just getting your stride back. Once you're up to full power, I'll go crack a rib or something so we can test it."

Lissa groaned. "The horrible part is that I don't think you're joking." She paused, staring intently at Rose for a minute before shaking her head and releasing her hand. "Sleep well."

Lissa returned to her seat, and Adrian turned around, peeking back at Rose between the seats. She took a minute to fluff and repositioned the pillow, stretching her long legs out across the seats. Within minutes, he could tell she was asleep.

Smiling, he waited ten minutes, and then focused himself, entering her dream. Shielding himself from her mind, he sank down on a familiar desk chair, watching the scene that Belikov so often dreamed—only this time, he let the dream play all the way through.

He was thrilled to realize that he'd been wrong—they hadn't consummated their relationship. The thought of Belikov claiming her in a physical way had caused him to drink so much on several occasions that he blacked out. His relief turned to fury as the vision progressed. Damn Victor Dashkov in a million different ways! He ground his teeth together in absolute frustration. Not because of the torture he'd inflicted on Lissa—although that was horrible. No, he cursed the man for one reason, and one reason alone. If it hadn't been for his fucking lust charm, Rose would be Adrian's right now. Belikov never would have acted on his attraction to Rose, at least not until she had graduated and was no longer his student. The man had ridiculously high moral standards. That stupid spell had broken his barriers and ignited something that should have been left dormant. Sure, they still would have had feelings for each other, but he firmly believed that neither would have made the first move. Rose was too proud, and Belikov was too… honorable.

Lissa was… feeding from Rose in the dream when it began to blur and grow hazy around him. It was probably a good thing, too, because the sight was almost too much for him to handle. The thought of biting down on Rose… his fangs penetrating her skin while his body—

He came back to consciousness with a jerk as someone roughly shook his shoulders. He stared up into an angry Russian face, wondering what the problem was.

"What?" He asked, his voice still sounding husky, his mind still half filled with the image of Rose.

Belikov narrowed his eyes, his voice a fierce whisper. "You were moaning her name in your sleep. Loudly."

A noise from across the aisle drew Adrian's attention away from threat that loomed above him. Alberta looked as though she were having some sort of seizure. He realized she was trying not to laugh at the situation. Shooting her a dirty look, he flicked his eyes back to the angry Russian in front of him.

"Being a wee bit obvious aren't you?" He whispered.

His words had the desired effect, and he watched as the man rebuilt himself. He smirked as Alberta—she'd finally managed to compose herself—joined them.

"I am only looking out for the best interest of my student, Lord Ivashkov. Something like this could spark rather nasty rumors." Belikov shot him another fierce look, then returned to his seat, pausing to check on Rose.

Alberta leaned down, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Do you have a death wish, Ivashkov?"

"It's not like I can control my dreams." He mumbled.

"True. If I may make a suggestion?" Her lips twitched. "Don't fall asleep around Dimitri." They both turned to look at the Russian, who still looked as if he were contemplating murder. "For more reasons than one."

Rolling his eyes, he grinned at her, watching as she reclaimed her seat, shooting him another one of her saucy winks in the process. Damn, this trip was going to be fun.