RPOV

When the crunch of the Guardian's boots has faded Mary lets out a long, shaky breath. I feel dazed but at the same time, my mind is racing. She pushes past me and disappears back into the kitchen. I stare out across the yard in the direction the others had gone with my mother, the barn doors are open and I can't see anybody inside from here. I also can't hear anything, no shouting or sounds of struggle. I take a step in that direction, trying to decide whether I should do what I want to do and run after them. I freeze when two figures emerge, the two men. I watch as they walk back this way with their heads bowed.

In the time they'd taken there could be no way they could have done anything of my darkest fears could they? Could they? I didn't know, maybe they had, maybe they'd-

"Get in here!"

I jump and then cringe at the look on Mary's face as she leans out the kitchen window. I look back at the barn, one foot sliding toward the backdoor and the other staying planted in the ground. Sweat slides down my face and I could hear my heart beating in my ears. What would my mother tell me to do?

She'd tell me to stay out of trouble and to follow the rules.

I swallow and head toward the backdoor. The feeling of wrongness in my stomach is a strange comfort, because too often when I felt it, it was because she was telling me how I should be behaving.

It isn't much cooler inside but it was shaded at least.

I think about my dream and how the marble countertops had been shiny and clean. How the white cupboards and drawers had gleamed and how the kitchen is nothing like that now. It is in chaos. Mary is bearing over two other women who were slicing up some kind of meat, pork I'd guess. Vegetables lay chopped and sorted in bowls with the discarded pieces lying messily on the counter in the centre of the large room. Something is simmering on one of the eight burners on the stove and something else is warming in the oven.

"Right you-" Mary comes up beside me. Her lined face is stern and her eyes are just as hard as the Guardians had been. Whatever she'd been about to say is disregarded as her eyes sweep over me and then narrow. "You are filthy. What have you been doing today? Or do you just like being a pig?"

I don't react to her words, not outwardly. She takes me by the elbow and steers me toward the huge sink in the corner, its deep basin utilized to wash food. "Wash your hands. Get the dirt out from under your nails and take off those shoes. There are slips in the cupboard."

She releases me roughly and my hip bangs into the sink. That irritating flame sprang up in my chest but thankfully Mary's marched off to the other side of the kitchen and is furiously slicing through carrots. I push against the flame and the strange hunger that's urging me after her.

I kick off my shoes and set them in the corner and open the cupboard to the left of the basin. The slips were balled up into pairs. I remembered them from when my mother had to use them and I was small enough she could put me into the sink to wash my feet. I unroll them and I'm surprised by the softness of the material. They would have to keep these good I guess, to move through the house. I pull on one black slip and it covers the bottom of my foot and toes, leaving the top of my foot bare. I pull on the other.

I snatch up the bar of soap and turn on the faucet, measuring out the right temperature between cold and hot. I lather up my hands and despite knowing my hands are filthy I'm surprised by just how much. It might have just been because of how black the water was running against the white surface or how the block of soap's lather turned brown under my hands but the evidence repulsed me. I scrub my nails with one of the small brushes I'd watched my mother use before. When I'm done my hands look unfamiliar to me. The skin, my skin, is a warm light brown and smooth. My fingernails aren't crusted with dirt and strangely I think my hands are pretty. Which was stupid, how could hands be pretty?

It's probably because they hadn't been so clean in days and the light in the kitchen heightened it because it was always darker in the barn.

Sweat slides down into my eye and I'm brought out of my silly thoughts.

Stop behaving like a child. You have work to do.

I put the soap back on its holder and reach to turn off the tap. My hand hesitates. Mary looked disgusted by the sight of me and she hadn't been looking at my hands, she'd been looking at my face. And what if someone else looked at me like that and really didn't like it? The others who worked inside the house looked very different from the ones who worked outside, they always looked clean. Their clothes are shabby and threadbare but clean.

I pick up the soap and work it between my hands quickly to create a lather and bring it up to my face. I feel the days of sweat and grime slipping off my skin, the texture under my hands changing so it was longer oily but softer. I opened my eyes just enough to grope for the soap and caught a glimpse of the basin below, it was far darker than it had been with my hands.

"Girl." Mary snaps. I scrub my face faster. I'd taken so much time. As I wipe my face I realize how some parts feel tighter, around my nose especially, strange.

I scurry over to Mary who has already begun giving me orders before I reach her. "…find Serena, she's blonde, she can finish what your mother started. You'll have to take over whatever she's doing. Now she should be in the library or sitting room." She looks up at me, her stern face ready to deliver something with emphasis – my mother liked that word. She said it meant something very important. It usually meant if I didn't do it I would be punished. – but she stops. Her eyes somehow seemed to really see me, as if the layer of dislike she usually looked through slipped away and she was seeing me without it. Her eyes roam over my face and I look down.

She clears her throat and her voice was sharp again. "You make no noise when you're in the house. None at all, understand?" I knew that. I'd been in there before but it had been years. I nod. "When you finish Serena's work you get back here. I'm gonna have everyone switching around today just to be able to – why are you still here?"

The last part was like she'd struck me and I bolt for the door on the opposite side of the room, tripping up the steps up to it. I stumble into the corridor of the house. I lean against the wall, my heart hammering in my chest and being weighed down by the feeling that I'm getting smaller.

I give my head a shake. I had rules to follow, Mary had given me orders. All I had to do was follow them.

I take a deep breath and try to think about other things. I'd been in this house before, when I was little and didn't want to be outside when my mother wanted me close and... the last birthday I remembered having. I had to be quiet, always quiet and never touch anything. I didn't mind it though because it was cooler inside the house and my mother liked it.

The library was to the right of the main stairs. It was on the hall that led to the Guardian's quarters.

My eyes snap open and I begin hurrying silently down the narrow hall. I reach the mouth that opens up into a room with a set of stairs to my immediate right, on the right wall is the door I need to go through to get to the main part of the house and to my left is the dining room. My eyes linger on the grand table. The wood was so dark it seemed black. A chill passes over me and I turn my back on it, trying not to think or imagine things that could happen later, and run to the other door on the balls of my feet.

I run as quietly as I can through the house, the size of it washing over me again and again. I'd seen it every day from the outside, watched as the sun rotated around it, casting huge shadows across the earth. When it was time for lunch the house's shadow sheltered us like a huge umbrella in the backyard, so it was easier to refill your bottle and get your meal from the kitchen. But being inside is different, all the different details, all the pictures, and the furniture made it seem even bigger like I'd never be able to let it all sink in. Like I would never be able to turn my back and know what was behind me.

I wished I were outside. Even though it was cool in here, like a mild day in winter.

When I reach the main hall my pace slows and I'm even more aware of my footfalls on the marble floor. I slip once, having been transfixed on the looming staircase that led up to the dark. I right myself and dart into the east side of the house. Paintings line the walls of this hallway but I don't pause to look. Not even for the one of a ship rising up on a hill of water, my favourite as a child.

I reach the door I think to be the library and hesitate, my hand rising as if to knock. I drop it and push the door open slowly. There were four Others in here, all working so quietly they could be ghosts. It's easy to spot Serena, her hair is the colour of a worn doorknob and she was the only girl with light hair here.

I drift past the others who see and then unsee me. When I reach her she's got one foot on the ladder, a bottle and a rag tucked under her arm. I touch her shoulder lightly and she jumps. I repeat what Mary has said and she listens with blank eyes. Without a word, she hands me the bottle and rag and leaves.

I look down at the tools in my hands and up at the rows upon rows of books. The shelves stretch up to the ceiling, the ladder was attached to a rail at the very top. Curiously I push the ladder and it heavily shifts to one side. I'd never been so high before. I'd never climbed a tree in the orchard this big. My stomach quivers and before I realise it I have one foot on the bottom rung, and my lips are tugging upwards.

I'd been up and down the ladder eight times and more than once I had to snap at myself to remember this was important work. But when I did forget it was because of how aware I was of being so far from the floor and how my hand on the ladder was the only thing keeping me from falling as I reached out to polish the shelves. This was a different kind of fear. The fear was contained to myself because it was my body I relied on to keep me out of trouble and I trusted it to keep me from falling. I felt in control. This fear is exciting. It made the smell of leaves and apples fill my mind when I and Eddie dared each other higher –

My fingers slip on the rung and my heart lurches. I scrabble to keep my grip, losing it on the polish bottle in the process. It's like it falls slowly and quickly at the same time. Then it hits the ground with a metallic thud. The others jump and swivel around, eyes darting around and then to the bottle and then up at me.

The silence is deafening.

They turn away but one woman glares at me until I'm forced to look away. My heart is pounding in my ears. I start climbing down with no trust in my body at all and hoping if I do fall it knocks me out.

It wasn't that loud. Nobody heard outside the room, it wouldn't carry through the walls. They wouldn't hear. If it was loud a Guardian would be here by now.

I reach the bottom. No one has come in. Nobody is looking at me anymore. It was an accident. It was a lucky accident, it wasn't loud. I pick up the bottle with shaky fingers.

Eddie flashes behind my eyes. His hair was the colour of corn and his light brown eyes alight with laughter. My throat tightens and I clench my jaw. I move the ladder over to the last row of shelves. I would not think about it, I would not think about him. I reach inside myself for the numbness and it comes, settling over me like a blanket and making everything seem unreal and real at the same time. I start climbing back up, not feeling the exciting fear, not feeling power, not feeling anything.

I hurry back to the kitchen, running on the balls of my feet through the dim halls. I pass two shadows, Guardians, but I don't look at them. When I reach the kitchen I pause on the step.

"Shut the door." Mary hisses. She heaves a bubbling pot off a burner and into the sink by the window. "You know they hate the smells in the house." I shut it behind me.

Steam is billowing from pots, two ovens are lit up and various meats and dishes are cooking on their shelves. Serena's posed over a large sponge holding an icing tube, absorbed in decorating it. I jump down the steps and rush over to Mary.

"They'll be coming in from the fields soon and I need to do the Guardian's lunches. There are boxes in the pantry and cooler for- "

"Our meals. I know."

She glances at me. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

I rush past Serena - realizing she, Mary and my mother are the only others I know by their name – and pull open the heavy door to the cooler. A blast of cold air hits me and when I step inside I shriek and jump back, almost falling over. The ground was like ice inside. I retrieve my shoes and pull off my slips, rolling them back up and stuffing them back into the cupboard.

I hurry back to the cooler, pulling my shoes on along the way, and duck inside. I can still feel the chill through the soles of my shoes but it's far better than being in the slips. There are rows upon rows of food in here on metal shelves, mostly meats I wouldn't know how to cook, packets of things I don't pause to inspect. Our stuff is near the back.

I stop in front of two boxes on the floor and it strikes me how small they are compared to everything else in here. There are so many of us and we get so little. There were two Masters of the household who have more than enough every night, and now the third was coming home they'd be made double. Whatever wasn't piled onto their plates then the Guardians got it. Whatever they didn't eat we got… and they always ate.

The fire spreads from my chest and through my limbs and I no longer feel cold. It doesn't seem right, it can't be right and yet it's the way it has always been. But…why?

They are just the same as us. The Guardians are like us, aren't they? A mix of what the Masters are and what we are.

I try to remember what my mother had told me but I can't quite grasp it all. I remember she told me once, when I was younger and thought crying would help, that we needed less food because we were strong like Guardians. Stronger than the Masters…than Moroi.

"They come first." She'd said, but her smile had looked plastic and her eyes bitter.

I take a deep breath and drop down to inspect the boxes. I was right, scraps and remainders of the meat used for the meals yesterday, sloppily wrapped. We must have had whatever fruit was let this morning. I move the content of one into the other, it doesn't even pile halfway. I lift it up. It's so light. The fire is like the morning sun under my skin.

Without even thinking about it or beyond it I start scanning the shelves. There had to be something, something they wouldn't miss, something that could go unnoticed, and something easy to pass as ours. I put the box down and start rifling through packets. I expect Mary to throw open the door to demand what's taking so long but she doesn't. I push aside some things, my fingers numbing from the cold, and pause. I snatch up the packet.

"Ready to eat diced turkey breast."

I could feel my pulse in my throat. The packet wasn't big but it was something. I hide it beneath the contents of the box and get out of cooler before I can grasp what I have just done. I expect someone to yell at me. Someone to grab me and trail me outside but nobody does. Nobody is paying me any attention. Serena is laying a sponge upon the one she'd decorated, the cream pushing out the edges and it looked amazing. Mary is barking at the two other women to use garlic oil.

In the pantry, our box holds two loaves, some cheese, and a handful of dried apricots. How am I going to divide this up?

I needed my mom.

The Others in the field needed me.

I blow out a breath and begin scanning the shelves again. Everything that was used was accounted for. Those who worked in the kitchen had to say what they'd used so there was no room to sneak things. I didn't believe that. I believed they would. But my mom never did…

I realize that was probably because of me. If she were caught she didn't just have herself to worry about.

I didn't have to write what I used though. It was risky and it was stupid but I didn't care.

I start scanning the shelves. Anything that looked like there was too much of it could afford to lose some. The only thing that I come across that I can get away with is peanut butter. I could spread just a little inside every slice and hand it out. As long as no one said anything...

I'm biting down so hard on my lip that I think I'll break the skin.

"For Eddie." I whisper and grab the jar. I'm unscrewing the lid when I realize another problem. I put it back on the shelf and dart back out to the kitchen. Sliding past Serena who I feel looking at me. I slide open a drawer and take out a knife. It glints in my hand and I feel the same thing stir in my stomach that did at the bottom of the ladder.

"What are you doing?" Mary snaps. Her face is flushed and she's carving through a chicken breast. Next to her chopping board are six plates already graced with a salad and two cookies on each. Already sliced and packaged bread sits on the other side with sliced cheese. Guardian lunches.

I think I'd had one sandwich in my life.

The fire grumbles through my stomach. "I'm slicing up the bread in the pantry. I don't want to be in the way."

She casts me a dark look. "You wait until they've eaten understand? No stuffing your mouth in there or I'll know."

My hand tightens around the steel between my fingers. "I understand."

"You have ten minutes." She says but I'm already gone, grabbing a plate from the drying stack as I go.

Back inside the pantry, I start slicing up the bread first, as thick as I can get away with. The cheese is harder because there isn't enough of it. Some would go without. I cut up each apricot into thirds. When I'd finished it made me want to cry. Surrounded by so much that wasn't ours, that we were not allowed because… because…

Why?

I'd left the peanut butter to the end, just encase I came to my senses and changed my mind or somebody came in. I take it off the shelf and unscrew the cap, sitting back down on the floor with my back to the door. The smell hits me and makes me dizzy. It's salty and nutty and my mouth waters.

Mary's voice comes back to me and I shake my head. The others out in the sun deserved this before I did.

I let the knife scrap across the surface, memorized at how it curls thickly up against the steel. I lift the knife out of the jar unable to look away from the light golden brown paste. I want to know how it could smell so salty and yet sweet at the same time. I lean back and take a deep breath, snatching up one of the slices. I smooth it on, it's not easy to spread but I can't use more. I pick up some of the meat and lay it on top. I fold the slice over with the butter and meats nestled in the centre and regard it. They'd probably wonder why they were folded but maybe not. When you're coming in from the field all you want is food no matter how it's laid out. My stomach gurgles.

I pick up another slice.

I pour the remaining little pile of apricots into his large, dirt-smudged hand. I take one of the bread rolls, the surface a little lumpy where a turkey cube or other meat is pushing against it but like the others, he takes no notice. I hand over the last two slices of cheese and he leaves without a word. He didn't look at me the entire time, none of them did, and I was glad.

The unease ebbs away as the man retreats. I wondered if I'd always be like that around men. I hadn't been with Eddie but Eddie hadn't been a man… but he would have been.

I push the thought away and look around. Most of them had sat down in the shade just outside the kitchen, it was late afternoon, and the only things left to do after they'd eaten would be to water the grounds and tidy away the tools.

Ever since the first had taken her food away I'd waited for them to raise the alarm or for Mary to come out after me holding the half-empty jar that I'd hidden behind the rest. But no one had. They all sat eating in silence but I noticed that some sucked at their lips or looked at the bread with an odd expression.

"Enjoying slaving over the stoves?" I hadn't realized I'd been smiling until I felt it drop from my face. The Guardian from this morning was leaning against the wall and he was smiling at me. It reminded me of how my face felt before I washed it. With my eyes on the ground, I turn to go back inside. "Oh c'mon, I'm kidding."

I nod but don't stop.

"Wait." He says and it sounds like an order. "You look different." I freeze. I feel his eyes on my face and the urge to turn away or cover it courses through me. When he speaks his voice is quieter. "What's your name, girl?"

Don't draw attention.

Don't draw attention.

My hands begin to shake and I curl them into fists. I hear the crunch of his boots coming closer.

"I'll tell you what." He proposes as I stare at the concrete step beneath me. Out of the corner of my eye, I realise he's come far too close. "I will give you this if you tell me."

I know he's waiting for me to look at him and I drag my eyes upward. He's holding out a cookie. My stomach drops and my mind propels back to another time, a different Guardian taunting a little boy with chocolate. This Guardian looks more than pleased by my reaction, he thinks I want what he's offering, and he thinks I don't know the cost.

"I don't want it." I say quietly and run through the back door.

I reach the counter in the middle of the room, expecting the Guardian to have followed me but he hasn't. I let out the breath I'd been holding.

"Have you eaten yet?" Mary asks from a chair in the corner.

I shake my head and turn to her and Serena. "I need to go check on my…on Janine."

"Meredith already did. She said she was okay. Drank some water, ate some berries." Mary says tiredly.

"I should-"

"Eat." Serena says, not looking up from her plate.

"She's right. Sit."

I shift from one foot to the other, wanting to run out the back door and back to the barn. My mother would come to me, I know she would. But I also knew what she'd tell me to do.

And the Guardian was out there.

Stay out of trouble. Follow the rules. Don't draw attention.

I hadn't managed to do any of those things.

My stomach growls angrily, making Serena look up. I look away and Mary comes toward me with a small plate, of chicken, a slice of bread, and blackberries. I take it and I'm about to say I'll go check on my mother anyway when Mary speaks.

"I've started warming the scones and I'll put the eggs on in another minute. Rosemarie can clean the dining room-" I'm so startled to hear her say my name I grab the edge of the counter and she looks at me irritated. "Will you eat that before you collapse too? God that's all we need. She can clean with Meredith while we prepare the dinner so it's ready for you and her to take out and-"

"I'm not serving." Serena says her voice hard. Mary had been talking in a weary voice but now she straightens up, fixing the other women with a cold stare. I swallow a blackberry and my stomach spasms around it. I wince.

"What do you mean you're not? You have to."

"No. I don't." Serena snarls and I worry both of them will start fighting. "I helped you out this morning but I am not serving dinner. It's not my job. I won't do it. I won't."

That's when I heard it, the scared desperation under the ferocity of her tone.

"Well nobody else can!" Mary's voice was too loud and it made me hunch down, looking worriedly at the back door. She seemed to realise too and cleared her throat. "Meredith will be too slow on her own and I can't leave things here."

"It was Janine's job so it's her problem." On the word 'her' she turned to me as did Mary. The piece of bread I'd been swallowing gets stuck and I cough. "I'll show her what to do. She'll do it."

"I can't -" my voice is a broken whine.

"Well, you'll have to." Snaps Mary and I flinch. "It isn't Serena's job and if your mother wasn't running around after you all the time this wouldn't have happened."

All the air goes out of me. Was that true? I tried so hard to stay out of the way. To do what she told me but no matter what I did she always looked at me like I disappointed her. That's when I realize, it wasn't what I did, it's what I was. I was her responsibility and she loved me, which made it harder. She was always worried. Always.

I'm a burden.

"Hurry up and eat that." Serena says and I look up feeling outside of myself. "I have a lot to show you."

I'd eaten though I'd tasted nothing and then listened to Serena for hours on how to serve to the left and clear from the right and how to be aware of when someone's glass is empty enough to refill it and to never let it be empty, especially the Mistress's. I knew what way cutlery was put on a plate to show that they are done and to wait five minutes between each course, and ten for dessert. That Master Ozera expected whiskey instead of wine.

I felt dizzy when I learned there are four courses. Four. So much food.

I'd listened and learned all of this as Mary prepared breakfasts for Meredith to take upstairs and more meals to be sent out to Guardians on the grounds. The sun had long since set. Plates sat warming on the stove and the smell of marinated meats and soups and chocolate filled the house. I don't know how my mother did this without going out of her mind. Serena had left to go back to the barn at sunset when they usually herded us in. Being in the house this late was strange and felt wrong.

"I'll serve Mater and Mistress Ozera." Meredith says quietly and I lift my head from where it had been in my hands. She wasn't looking at me but folding napkins and tucking cutlery into them. "You serve the young Master. He will be less likely to notice if you screw up."

"Thank you." I breathe.

She shrugs and still doesn't look at me.

"You've cleaned your hands?" Mary asks, even though her voice is quiet it has all sharpness as if she shouted. She walks over to the backdoor and opens it to the dark.

"Yes."

"Good. Now come here, I have to spray you with this." I get off my stool and come toward her as she holds up a canned spray, shaped like the polish from this morning. This morning seemed a very long time ago. "We can't do anything about your clothes and you can't bathe, there isn't time so…" she breaks off, pushes me out onto the step, and begins spraying the air around me. It smells of flowers and tickles my nose. She takes a small bottle out of her apron that's filled with yellow liquid. "Vanilla flavouring but it should work." She tips a small amount onto my fingers and tells me to put it just under and behind my ears.

I've only shut the back door behind me when the one to the house opens and we all freeze. A Guardian, not the same from this morning, fills the doorway. "Young Mr. Ozera is home. They expect dinner in twenty minutes." He leaves.

I am able to breathe again. I look to Meredith and Mary who have begun moving around wordlessly like locked into a dance they know well. They both seem as nervous as I do and I feel I may be sick. It seems like seconds and suddenly Mary is holding out a small square plate to me, laden with leaves and white cheese.

"Go." She hisses.

Meredith is already in the doorway, waiting and her eyes are pleading with me to not mess this up because if I do… if I do…

Eddie.

I won't. I can do this.

I set my shoulders and rush up after her. She spares me one last glance and moves out into the hall which is now softly lit. I can hear murmured conversation up ahead and I know it's them, sitting at that table, waiting for us to deliver four courses. I reach inside myself desperately seeking the numbness. I needed it more than ever as my hand become clammy against the plate. I keep my eyes on Meredith's back. We reach the opened space, the staircase beside us, two Guardians lining the wall and then we turn left.

The nothingness rushes over me. My brain shuts off when I feel too much emotion and if it didn't then I would have dropped the plate because the moment we came into the room whatever had been making the Mistress laugh ceased to be funny.

I feel her eyes on me. Burning.

I pass Master Ozera at the head of the table, then the Mistress sat in the middle, and finally reach the other end where I serve the Young Master, from his left.

"Thank you." He murmurs and it was all I could do to not jump out of my skin.

Two more Guardians hold the wall behind him.

I join Meredith in the corner, out of the immediate light that bathes the table and its guests, beside the wooden trolley that held the wine.

I let out the breath I've been holding.

"Well, that's new." Mistress Ozera's voice is loud and harsh. The loudest I'd heard anyone speak in hours.

"This looks delicious." Master Ozera says, ignoring his wife. "Some proper food for you, Christian. I can only imagine it was junk all summer."

"Aunt Tasha cooked sometimes." Young Mr Ozera replies. I could see his side profile from the shadows. He had dark hair like his father and even sitting down I could tell he was tall but then Moroi were, just as they were slender.

Four courses.

"Good Lord, Tasha cooking." Mistress Ozera says sounding amused. The ice was no longer sharp in her voice but it was still there.

"More than you could Mom."

My body locks up upon hearing the way he speaks to her and even more so to hear her answering laughter.

"He is right Moira. I remember when we first started dating and somehow the lettuce was burnt."

"I was never meant to be a domestic goddess."

I realise the young master has put his cutlery down the same moment Meredith moves from my side. My heart lurches as I step out of the shadows and clear from the right. I can feel eyes on me again, especially hers, burning, always burning. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle as it takes all my self-control to walk behind Meredith and not run past her. When we reach the hall her pace picks up and soon we're in the kitchen.

I heave in breaths like I've been running.

"You're doing fine." Meredith sounds jittery as she places bread rolls onto the plates that already hold a bowl of soup.

"Go." Mary says and we do. I'm more aware of the food in my hand this time. The hot liquid looks back up at me threateningly and every step is a small triumph. It could be so easy to slide in our slips, with no grip on the floor…

And then I've set it down in front of him and retreat to the safety of the corner. My heart is hammering in my chest. Meredith comes back and I almost follow her in a panic when she leaves again. Then I see the bottle in her hands and she is refilling the Mistress's glass. Young Mr Ozera had hardly touched his.

Deep breaths.

"So Tasha is still hell-bent on this... idealistic notion of hers?" The Mistress asks as Meredith comes back to my side.

"It is a good idea." Christian

"It is but as your mother says, idealistic. Things are getting worse Christian. I don't know how much you heard over the summer but-"

"I heard a lot. Tasha doesn't hide things from me."

"Nor do we! We are just more selective about what information needs to burden a young boy."

"I'm eighteen mom, not a child."

"We know that." Mr Ozera soothes.

"And if the Szelsky's had used their magic to defend themselves then they wouldn't be dead. Their line wouldn't have ended."

Meredith leaves again to refill the Mistress's glass. From over her shoulder, I can see she has hardly touched her soup. Worry and anger putter in my stomach.

"Maybe so." The Mistress says, already lifting her newly filled glass to her lips. I feel secure enough to steal looks at her seeing I am in shadow and she has her back to me. Her hair was dark but not black like her son's, browner like bark. She was also slender and pale like the other two. The finger's on her right hand glittered, one with a blood-red stone and a clear-cut gem on another that sparkled. "But as it is, they are dead."

"Tasha thinks the Strigoi are operating under one leader and it is not random pack attacks. She thinks-"

"I want to hear no more of what Tasha thinks, Christian." Mrs. Ozera snaps, waving her jewelled hand at him. He glares at her and that's when I notice his eyes, blue like the clear sky at noon. A small part of me is glad someone can look at her like that.

Meredith is already at the Mistress's side before I realise and rush forward. I lift his plate too fast and the bowl slides an inch on the plate's surface, and my heart spasms. No one comments but I know they've all seen and my cheeks begin to heat. Meredith's already in the hall as I get to the edge of the room.

"Why is that in my home?" I hear the Mistress bite out and I do run the last length of the hall.

Mary stops what she's doing and looks at me. "What happened? Are you going to be sick?."

"I can't." I try to explain shaking my head.

Her concern disappears. "You don't have a choice."

"You're doing well." Meredith says without looking at me as she removes a tray from the oven. I recognise steak. I look at the bowls we've just returned and not one of them is empty.

"They don't, they didn't even finish, how can they just-" I sputter and the fire is seeping through my limbs again.

Mary returns my look and snatches up a bottle that's beside the stove. "Take a drink of this."

"What-"

"Wine. It will help. " She says simply and when Meredith looks up she continues. "It's what's left from making the sauce. It's fine."

I look down at the bottle and without thinking lift it to my lips. The liquid has a smoothness to it, a sweetness that gives way to a bite as I swallow. Mary snatches the bottle from my grip as my head reels trying to process the taste in my mouth. The fire in my chest is fading. I pick up the last plate and follow Meredith who's waiting for me in the doorway. When we reach the dining room a strange tingling has spread through my body.

I feel calmer. Not calm but like my body is out of danger from shaking.

"You don't have to return to the Academy." Mr Ozera says as I set the plate down in front of his son.

"I know but I want to. It is my final year."

"It's not completely safe there."

"It's not safe anywhere mom but I'm betting the safest place is the Academy with its wards and dozens of Guardians."

"We have wards and Guardians here." The Mistress replies and it's strange, it sounds as if she's begging.

Christian lowers the forkful of food from his mouth. "What… what's going on? Why don't you want me to go back?"

Meredith refills both the Master and the Mistresses glasses.

"It's not that we don't want you to back." Mr Ozera says and takes a sip of wine. "But as your mother says, it's just as safe here. Also… there are other ways to ensure protection."

I don't know what it is but I can feel the tension in the air. Maybe from the set of the Master's shoulders or how the Mistress has drained her glass again.

"Like what?" Christian asks whilst chewing. "Letting Tasha teach us how to use fire to defend ourselves?"

The Mistress makes a noise as if she's choked and sneezed at the same time. She takes a gulp of her newly filled glass and then says. "No, not like that."

There's a brief pause in which the young master looks between his parent, his expression confused and a little guarded.

"There are ways to bargain with the strigoi." Master Ozera says.

Original note:

Well I don't know about you but this was not how I thought this chapter was going to go. It was far longer than I planned it to be, with only getting to the Ozera's at the end and I did deliberate on whether I should just keep going. But I decided to bite this part off and give it as a chapter which means the next one is already halfway done.

Chapter three is where I've wanted to get to! So I hope you guys stick around for it.

Any questions feel free to message me or leave it in a review. Thanks for reading! x

Updated 14/04/2022