Dimitri's POV

I wasn't going to spy on her, but she just made it so ridiculously easy. I was on my way to the middle school campus, where I was going to stand guard in one of the Moroi classes in second period, when I passed the guardians' gym. It wasn't surprising in the least that Rose had opted to conduct her class outside – I knew how much she loved the sun – but I still hadn't expected to see her today until later. She hadn't discovered me yet and I had no desire for her to do so, so I hid in the shadow of the gym while I watched her.

She wasn't fighting at the moment but rather watching the novices fight each other. I suspected a significant amount of doubt in her own abilities as the reason for that, and – after what I'd seen of her in the gym that one time – it wasn't entirely unwarranted. Still, I had no doubt she would be back to being at her best in no time. It wasn't a bad idea to get a feel for the novices' progress in their training, anyway.

After a few moments, I realised I wasn't the only one watching her. When I shifted my attention to the novices themselves, I spotted more than a few of them staring at her. It wasn't unusual, and I'd seen many a man stare at Roza. These stares, however, were different. There was still the obvious attraction, of course, but with a lot more respect. Perhaps even reverence. To these kids, she was legendary, and they must have considered it an honour to have her as a teacher. I wondered if she knew that, but if she did, she didn't let it show.

I noticed something else, too, as Rose went from pair to pair. She was actually watching them carefully, giving them helpful tips here and there, and – most surprising of all – she was jotting down some notes on each and every novice she passed. From what I'd gathered, she had not expected to come here as an instructor for the young novices, but I was almost certain she would do a wonderful job in training them.

Lost in thought, I hadn't realised that I'd been discovered. Rose was jogging over to me, and I internally scolded myself for staying so long. I should have just moved on. Alas, it was too late now.

"Got nothing better to do than ogling me, comrade?" she asked. I'd expected some irritation in her voice but only found amusement.

I raised an eyebrow. "Ogling you? Hardly. I was just passing by."

"Mhm, I'm sure," she said, clearly not believing a word of it. "Don't think I haven't noticed you standing here."

Damn it. Just because she hadn't let on immediately, I shouldn't have expected her not to take note of my presence. Unwilling to admit that I had, in fact, been watching her for some time, I decided to go with deflection. I nodded towards the notepad in her hand. "You seem to be taking your job rather seriously."

"Of course!" She took a step back, and I wondered if I had offended her. "I may not like this, but that doesn't mean I have to take it out on them. They still deserve a decent education. Especially when…"

She didn't have to finish that sentence. The severity of my remark had sunk in, and I wanted to take it back. No, of course I shouldn't have been surprised that she was taking this seriously. Lives were on the line – literally. These kids were to go out into the world in less than a year, and if their education wasn't adequate, it would cost them their lives. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply—"

"Yeah, right," she said. All the earlier amusement had vanished from her tone. "How could I ever delude myself into thinking you could possibly see me as anything other than a child with no regard for the consequences of her actions? You've been nothing but condescending to me since I got here, but I've had about enough." She shook her head, defeated. "I've got to get back to my class."

With that, she walked away, and I was left speechless. Nothing – nothing – could have been further from the truth. Maybe a decade ago, when I had retrieved her and Vasilisa in Portland, that might have been what I saw in her. But even then… no, even then she had been so much more. Hadn't our years together shown her that I'd absolutely and completely considered her my equal? Hadn't our time at Court meant nothing to her?

The worst part was that I knew she would have taken the remark as the offhand comment it was supposed to be if I hadn't so consistently hurt her ever since her arrival. In the past weeks, I'd belittled her, lied to her, and been unnecessarily mean to her. Who could blame her for thinking that was still what I was doing? I wanted to make up for treating her so unfairly, but everything I did only seemed to have the opposite effect. Even unintentionally.

I allowed myself one last glance at her before I left. She looked less enthusiastic than she had before, and it didn't help the sharp pain in my chest to know that it was my fault. There was nothing I could do now, though, so I finally made my way to the middle school campus.

The class was Russian I, which was just my luck. There couldn't have been any class more boring to me than this one, which gave me far too much freedom to think.

Think about the way I had treated Rose so far, and how I wondered if she had finally reached her breaking point.

Think about what that would mean – would she stop trying to work with me in favour of working by herself? I wouldn't blame her.

Think about how she might use her time off before the next class to break into my office and steal the files I had locked away in my desk so she could go through them without me.

Think about how she might find what she needed. Would she leave then?

Think about how that had been exactly what I'd wanted.

Except that that wasn't the truth. I'd wanted her to be safe.

If I was being completely honest with myself, what I had really wanted when she'd first set foot into my office was to wrap her in my embrace and never, ever, let her go again. To tell her that I had missed her, and how grateful I was to see her alive and well.

But I hadn't done any of that, which had left me right where I was now – standing in the back of a classroom, wondering how I could fix my mistakes. And so I kept thinking.

Thinking about the look of disappointment she had given me earlier.

Thinking about the pain in her eyes.

Thinking about her.

Always her.

My Roza.