18. First World Problem

(Sonya POV)

When classes resumed the night after the funeral it felt like things were finally beginning to settle down again. Many of the guests had headed home, and those who were staying on for Queen Tatiana's banquet kept to their royal quarters most of the time, or took short trips off-campus to catch up on shopping and gossip with their friends. I'd received an invitation to the royal banquet, along with the rest of the moroi teachers, but I had absolutely no intention of going. Even with Victor Dashkov gone, I couldn't think of anything worse than having to dress up and mix with a room full of royals for a whole morning.

Being back in the classroom was a welcome change after the unexpected break from lessons, and the first night of teaching practically flew by. At the end of the final class I tidied up my desk, feeling quietly satisfied that I had a purpose once more. I was just getting ready to head back to my apartment when I was startled by a knock at the door. It was a student – she looked quite young, and I didn't remember seeing her in any of my classes before.

'Hello Miss Karp,' she announced in a sing-song voice. 'Headmistress Kirova would like to see you in her office before you go home.' She giggled nervously then bounced her way back out into the hallway. 'See you later,' she called out over her shoulder as she made her way out of the room.

An unexpected trip to the boss's office is never a good thing, I thought to myself. I locked the classroom and made my way towards the administration building with a slight sense of dread.

'I've heard that you are planning not to attend the royal banquet this weekend,' Headmistress Kirova began the moment I entered. 'A lot of effort has gone into preparing this dinner in honour of the Dragomir family, God rest their souls, and Queen Tatiana will be present. I'm expecting all of my staff to be there and pay their respects.'

'But there will be so many people there. I don't think I will be able to cope. I'm really not cut out for that kind of thing,' I protested, my voice rising slightly in pitch as my anxiety level increased. I'd barely made it through the funeral – surely I didn't have to sit through another formal function so soon, especially one where there would be copious amounts drinking and dancing.

'Pull yourself together, woman. I'm asking you to go to a party, not deliver the welcoming address.'

There was no way she would ever understand. I closed my mouth and resolved to sit through her lecture. I could just pretend to be sick on the night.

'The other staff all give up their personal time to attend important social events, and it's not fair for you stay home while the rest of us do all the work entertaining our royal guests,' her tirade continued. 'And for God's sake, buy yourself a nice dress. You've worn the same skirt-jacket combination for years now, and if I have to see it one more time I might just rip it off you in front of everybody, queen or no queen.'

The thought of being stripped in public was about as bad as it could get. If anybody is undressing me, it won't be you Kirova, I thought snakily, then blushed when I realised there was one person who I wouldn't mind taking my clothes off for me.

'And one more thing,' the headmistress continued. 'If you're planning on backing out at the last minute and assuming I won't notice, you're dead wrong. If I don't see you at the banquet personally you will find yourself without a job come Monday morning. Do you understand?' her voice was hard and I didn't doubt the resolve in her cold, unfeeling eyes.

I nodded dumbly, shocked at the intensity of her speech.

'Dismissed!' she shrieked, and I hurried out of the room as quickly as I could.

Back in my apartment I paced across the floor, fighting the urge to scratch at a spot just behind my jaw. What if Victor Dashkov turned up after all? Were there other people working for him that I needed to avoid? Did anybody else know my secret?

And then another realisation hit me – I had nothing to wear. It had been years since I'd attended an event that required formal-wear, and I wasn't sure I had the confidence to pull it off. A first world problem, to be sure, but on top of my other worries it felt like a disaster.

Maybe there was something I already owned that I could mix and match for the occasion? I looked desperately through my wardrobe hoping for inspiration only to discover the depressing truth. Ellen Kirova was right. All I could find were sensible skirts and blouses, a few jackets and a drawer-full of casual exercise gear.

I closed the wardrobe door in frustration and flopped down face-first on the couch. I considered getting drunk. I considered running away. Then I finally forced myself to face up to the truth – there was no way to avoid it any longer… I would have to get myself a dress.

I looked up at the clock on the wall - it was nearly dawn. I couldn't bother any of my moroi colleagues as they would be heading to bed soon, not that I was particular friends with any of them anyway, and I wasn't comfortable driving off-campus by myself, away from the protection provided by the school's wards and guardians. I wracked my brain for a minute then found the solution to my problem, my pulse quickening in nervous anticipation as I set my plan into action.

Heading back to the wardrobe, I selected an outfit made up of the least boring clothes I could find. I matched a camel-coloured tunic with a pair of dark leggings and wrapped my favourite pashmina around my shoulders before taking a quick look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was nothing special but it would do. I steeled myself for the mission ahead and made my way out the door.

Ten minutes later I was at the main Guardian office.

'How can I help you Miss Karp?' the man at the front desk asked politely as I approached his station.

'I need to speak to Guardian Tanner about an urgent matter. Is he on duty?' I tried my best to sound authoritative.

'He knocked off thirty minutes ago and won't be back on shift until 5:00pm. You're welcome to try his quarters if it can't wait until then. He's in flat fourteen on the ground floor,' the guardian indicated across to the two-storey building on the opposite side of the gym. I thanked the man for his help then found my way to Mikhail's room, hesitating briefly before knocking on the door.

Nobody answered, and after a second try I was about to turn away when I finally heard footsteps and the door opened. Mikhail looked like he'd just gotten out of bed – I'd probably just disturbed the first proper sleep he'd had in a week – and I would have felt guilty except I was too preoccupied by the sight of him in boxer shorts and a singlet. I'd never seen this much of his body on display before and I knew the image of his tightly muscled shoulders and strong, toned legs would stay with me for a very long time.

'Sonya. This is an unexpected pleasure,' he greeted me with a sleepy smile, unfazed by my wide-eyed stare. 'Would you like to come in?'

'No thanks Mikhail,' I replied, hovering nervously from one foot to the other. 'I actually came to ask if you'd mind doing me a favour, but it looks like I've woken you.'

'It's no problem – I can always sleep later,' he said good-naturedly, running his fingers through his hair to neaten it up. 'What can I do to help?'

I cringed internally as I formed the next words. 'I have to go shopping. Do you think you could drive me into town? I'm so sorry to bother you when you've had such a busy week, but it's an emergency.'

He raised an eyebrow in mock amusement. 'An emergency, you say? And you need to go right now?' he clarified.

I nodded, and bit my lip in apology.

He chuckled. 'Wait there a second. I'll just throw on some clothes and I'll be with you.'

A few minutes later he emerged again, this time wearing a pair of dark jeans and a charcoal-blue V-necked sweater that brought out a new depth of colour of his clear, blue eyes. He locked his apartment and we crunched our way together down the gravel driveway towards the staff carpark. As soon as we reached the bottom of the stairwell, I headed towards the row of Jeeps reserved for guardian use, but Mikhail shook his head silently and took me by the elbow, steering me further down the row of vehicles. He stopped when we arrived at a low, black classic car and grinned broadly at my expression.

'What do you think?' he asked, his eyes sparkling with the excitement of a young boy with his favourite toy.

I knew absolutely nothing about cars but I could tell that this one was something special.

'It's beautiful,' I replied, reaching my hand out to run it over the smooth lines of the chassis.

'Uh-uh,' he tutted, removing my hand from the glossy black paintwork. 'No fingerprints please,' he cautioned, as he reached into his pocket to retrieve the keys. I expected him to drop my hand but instead of letting go he looped his fingers through mine, setting my heart racing.

'What is it exactly?' I asked, my voice catching slightly as I felt him stroke my hand lightly with his thumb. This man had a way of making me feel safe and completely exposed at the same time.

'The other woman in my life,' he announced with a smug expression, walking me around the front of the car to the passenger side. The round, silver headlamps and grill gleamed against the dark paintwork, and the heavily tinted windscreen gave away none of the secrets within.

'She is one of a kind – a classic 70's Russian Volga combined with a BMW V6.' He turned his admiring gaze from the car to me. 'She is beautiful and mysterious, and I don't get much time to spend with her either,' he said softly, unlocking the door with his free hand and swinging it open for me.

I was expecting retro dials and the smell of old leather but when I looked inside the car it was modern and luxurious. I sank into the soft, cream leather seat, and relaxed back against the headrest, not even wasting my time trying to figure out what all of the lights and buttons on the dash were for. Mikhail slung himself into the driver's seat beside me, his head nearly touching the roof, and placed the key in the ignition.

'Ready?' he asked.

'Ready,' I replied, smiling at his enthusiasm.

The engine kicked into life with a low, warm growl that quickly subsided into a throaty purr. I wrinkled my nose at the faint smell of diesel fuel and took a sharp breath in when he suddenly put his foot hard to the ground, reversing out with a squeal of tires.

As we approached the main gates of The Academy, Mikhail wound down his window and exchanged a few words to the guardian on duty – I'd seen him at the masterclass last week but didn't know his name. The young man laughed amiably as they spoke and signalled for another guardian to open the gates and allow us through. In only a matter of minutes we were on the road, and the further we distanced ourselves from St. Vladimir's the more comfortable I felt. So much had happened at school over the last few weeks and I felt glad to get away from it all. I slipped lower into the seat and let out a sigh of relief, leaving all of my worries behind me.

'That's it - you just relax and enjoy the drive,' my chauffer smiled over at me. 'I have to warn you about one thing, though,' he looked at me seriously.

'What's that?' I frowned in concern.

'My music player is only loaded with progressive rock and metal!' He chuckled at my horrified expression and turned the sound up to give me the full effect of the subwoofers in the back before lowering the volume again so we could talk.

'So why the emergency shopping trip?' Mikhail enquired as we hit the I-90 and headed east towards Missoula, enjoying the quiet freedom of the road and one another's company.

'Ellen Kirova said I have to buy an evening gown for Sunday's banquet or she'll fire me,' I explained dryly, looking daggers at the road ahead.

He burst out laughing. 'Now that's not something you hear every day!'

I looked at him with annoyance and considered punching his arm, then realised how childish I was being. 'Okay, I guess it is kind of funny when you say it out loud, but I swear I'm telling the truth. That woman is crazy,' I retorted, cracking a smile of my own.

Author's Note:

The next few chapters reference some of my favourite scenes from the original Vampire Academy series.

I love how bitchy they made Kirova in the movie & have tried to portray her the same way in her scene with Sonya.

Later in the chapter, Sonya turning up at Mikhail's apartment is a call back to Rose turning up at Dimitri's place after the ball in Book 1. If only Sonya had a charmed necklace too (but then we wouldn't be going on a shopping trip after all)!

I was looking up vintage Russian cars and found Mikhail's ride – somebody actually spliced together two cars to create this Volga/BMW – you can check out pictures if you Google: English Russia Volga-m6