DPOV.

"Ahhh, there you are. Done Skiving?" Spiridon raises an eyebrow over his steepled fingers. The moment I'd walked into the room he'd pulled himself up into a sitting position and sobered his expression to resemble that of a stern lawyer when moments before he'd been sprawled out like a cat. "Pretty sure this would have qualified as paid holiday."

"My days off are no less painful anyway." I mutter, taking refuge on the edge of the couch and trying to regulate my breathing so it doesn't give me away. I shouldn't hide it from them but I can't be weak now. I'll be weak later when I can afford to be.

"Is Tasha really that hard to put up with? Personally, I always have a great time with her." He grins but I don't have the strength to be goaded.

"Glad you have at least one friend. When do we leave?" He runs me through the plan that we depart at midday and will reach the chosen destination within a few hours. A bar in the city, public and within daylight hours so less risk. We didn't however get a name. "How do we identify them from a decoy or imposter?"

Ben comes out of the adjoining room. "He said he'd know us."

"I don't like it."

"I told you he wouldn't." Spiridon says smugly and reaches for another cake from the platter on the coffee table. "Because I don't either."

Ben rolls his eyes. "None of us do but he hung up before we could negotiate."

"Could threaten." Spiridon corrects, assessing a strawberry jam tart before eating it whole.

"And Victor wants to risk it anyway?"

"Victor does." Victor says, gliding into the room in a fresh suit. "I have you three, daylight and a public place. I am hardly to be killed or worse, kidnapped."

Before I can argue Ben jumps in. "I've scouted the place through blueprints and I've been able to pull shots from online. I rang the landline and it checks out. Even Blake's heard of the hotel."

"It serves food until four." Spiridon adds.

I don't like it but there's nothing I can do. "Okay."

"If you two need some extra rest then now is the time." Victor says, flicking on the coffee machine and sliding an espresso cup under the faucet.

Ben gives me a meaningful look and it serves to make the bruising on his face more profound. I look away. "Has the pilot been notified?"

"Yes."

"And Levandi knows you're leaving out of business hours?"

"Believe it or not Belikov we can function without you." Spiridon says, waving an éclair above his head before depositing it into his mouth.

Victor chuckles. "Dimitri, you and Ben should both rest. Last night was trying for you both to say the very least and I appreciate it immensely. Rest, please."

I consider his words and then nod with an over-rationalized feeling of defeat blackening inside me. Or maybe that's just the bruises. I leave the room with Spiridon waffling a comparison of the Estonian diet to American and go into our quarters, soon Ben joins me.

He closes the door behind him. "No bullshit. How are you?"

I exhale heavily and lower myself down onto one of the three beds. Our sleeping quarters were literally just that. A robust metal bunk-bed that Spiridon and Ben had taken up without complaints and that had left me with the single. We had basic storage space and our own bathroom. All we needed. There was one small window that looked out at the gardens but knowing they had been awash with blood just a little over a month ago made them hard to admire.

"Sore." I admit. "I'll need pain killers and an adrenaline sachet before we leave."

"That's not happening. You know-"

"It's my only option."

People often assume Ben is soft, most likely because in comparison to myself and to Spiridon he's quieter and is less forthright in his opinion, happy to let us steer the argument. If he disagrees he speaks up but otherwise, he lets us take the reins. Spiridon and I may be on par with our opinions but I like to think I'm less arrogant about it.

Ben's eyes in the dim light are sharp and his silhouette fills the doorway. "If you over-exert yourself then we'll be dealing with a lot more complications and I would rather not have your hospitalization on my conscience."

"Don't be dramatic." I gently assess my side. I'm prolonging having to look at it again and while I'm willing to admit this weakness I was not showing him the extent of it.

"I'm not." He says flatly. "One sachet is fine. Two is stretching it. A third? A third puts you at risk of dehydration and cardiac arrest."

"I know the risks. I know the risks either way."

"And for someone who is very anal about avoiding them you're being a hell of a rebel." I look up and note how he's folded his arms. I tense which sends fire dancing over my ribs. "You took a hard fall last night, and I am grateful for that, but I'm not going to stand by and watch you wreck yourself. Gods need rest too."

I make a noise between a choke and laugh. "That nickname is never going to leave me, is it?"

"Dogging you to the grave."

I try to grin but it's weighed down by the gravity of the situation. "I'll take it easy when we're home but you and I both know I need to be there and I need to be alert. You're not stupid enough to be feeling guilty. I know what I'm doing."

"That's what people usually say before it all goes wrong."

"Well then," I force myself to stand without wincing so I meet his gaze levelly. "It's a good thing I'm a God."

Although he doesn't want to he can't help but crack a smile. He shakes his head as if trying to rid himself of it so he can seriously say, "Alright then, I trust you. Get some sleep."

"You're not tired?"

"No. I slept solidly when we got back." His expression conveys he knows I hadn't despite my best efforts to hide it. "I'm going to check in with Blake and look over everything before I leave." He points to his face. "And put more ice on this. Did Rose bring her Alchemist magic cream with her?"

I haven't asked her about her arm in a while. She didn't wince or tense anymore when someone came close to brushing past her but she should still be applying it to have the maximum healing effect. "She should have."

"I'll ask her to spare me a tiny bit."

The red and purple bruising would require more than a little bit. "Depending on how much she has ask for more. It's strong but you're going to need to cover the area."

He pulls open the door and the good side of his face smirks. "Oh, I don't want it completely healed. I think it gives me an edge to look a little battered, the informant might find it a bit more intimidating."

He steps out.

The sky outside is starting to lighten to a pale blue with the hazy pink splotching the horizon. I get up, allowing myself to react to the pain, and lock the door behind him. I take a deep breath before using my right hand to pull my shirt over my head. I go into the closet-sized restroom and brace myself for the truth in the fluorescent light. It could have been worse. I turn my torso a fraction and my reflections lips pull back over his teeth. My left side is stained black, purples, and reds from the fall. No broken ribs which is lucky and it appears worse because of my skins tanned parlour, it makes the discolouring stark.

That's bullshit and I know it. It's bad but I was accustomed to bad. Bad was the majority of what I had growing up.

The violent tattoo stretches down my entire left side and reaches to brush my shoulder blade. It's especially tender at my pelvis where I'd landed hard on my utility belt. I'm pretty sure it was the gun that had tried to become a part of my insides. I was lucky it hadn't ruptured a kidney and with the agony that had been riddling my body, I thought initially that had been the case. Ben had thought worse when I hit the rock floor but he still didn't leave me behind.

Only the fact the Strigoi had begun to struggle back to its feet had spurred me to move. Kill or be killed. I'd only been able to back up enough to buy Ben a few seconds to get in range with the right shot.

At the very least when Tasha asks how my trip was I can open it with, 'I fell down a mountain'. She usually appreciates dramatic humour...until she finds I'm not exaggerating. I can hide the worst from her and it would have a few days to heal before having to take my holiday hours and we could, as she insisted, celebrate my birthday.

I would have to see Keith before then if the pain persists like fire pulsing under my skin and wrapping around my organs. For that to happen I would have to tell Victor as it's his pocket that would buy the medication and Keith's silence. I just hope that doesn't compromise the trust I'd been able to build since being here. It isn't an asset I wanted to give up.

The pain rockets up my abdomen and I steady myself on the sink.

What if there is something more wrong? A rupture? Internal bleeding? No. With internal bleeding, I would have suffered the consequences by now. With a ruptured organ I would be immobile with Spiridon rolling his eyes over my hospital bed or dead already. It's only pain and a few scratches that Ben had helped me disinfect. The pain I could deal with. Pain is like fear, you could use it or let it use you.

I make my way into the other room to take out our med supplies. Two strong pain killers, Alchemist issue, and a sedative to buy me a few hours' sleep. I knock them back with some water and gingerly pull on another shirt. If Spiridon dared poke me as a 'joke' I would floor him.

I pull down the blackout blind and lie down on my right side. Slowly I slip away into a black pit with fire burning unseen at the edges.

No matter how much I clench and unclench I cannot make my grip steady. It isn't blatant but I don't like it. I keep my hand at my back.

"Blessed be." Victor murmurs as he moves past the Guardians standing in formal farewell formation.

His voice is heartfelt but at the same time strong, a voice that is automatically respected. 'Blessed be', a saying from the old world, a proverb laced into the Royal Court and its past monarchy. How the Royal would address their Guard, their people, and their Court. It's rarely heard now. I hear it whispered again and I cast a look over my shoulder at Rose. The words are faint on her lips as she tried to dissect them.

Subliminal messaging at its finest.

We follow Victor as our two cars roll into the courtyard. Spiridon opens the passenger door of the first and holds Victor's umbrella overhead as he climbs inside. Once Ben slides into the back seat I move to the car behind with Rose following suit. I take a deep breath before climbing in and as subtly and gently as I can I settle into the driver's seat. It would be fifteen more minutes I would feel the adrenaline's effect, maybe less. I hadn't eaten anything substantial.

"Rose, could you pass me water from the back seat before you buckle up?"

"Yeah sure." She reaches into the back and riffles through the bags. The movement jostles the car and my grip tightens on the wheel. "There you are." She announces happily falling back into her seat, causing another tremble through the space, and holding the bottle out to me. The car in front pulls away. "Are you okay?"

I nod, my lips pressed so hard together they could dent gold. I start the engine with rigid movements and follow Spiridon's car out of the Courtyard and toward the front gate. I can feel Rose absorbing my disposition, knowing she was taking it personally and trying to figure out what it is she could have done wrong. I don't trust myself to speak. She turns away to look out the window.

"I didn't get to say goodbye to, Adrian." She says quietly.

With pain rolling through me my voice isn't something I can rely on so her wistful comment lingers in the car and it bothers me twofold. I wanted to reassure her that she would no doubt see him again. Ivashkov and Andre Dragomir were friends so it was possible he would cross her path. The other part I knew belonged to the instinctive fibres inside myself to be protective, the part that reared up when Viktoria had started dating.

I think.

When we reach the checkpoint Rose reaches for the glove box and takes out the portfolio and produces her ID. She looks at me as if for approval and I nod trying to ignore the clamminess building at my back. A Guardian checks our credentials and waves us on. It may be the adrenaline kicking in but passing through the gate I feel relief. After twenty minutes the pain has receded to a dull ache and my focus has become more acute. It's a strange sensation like the world has been dialled up in colour and sharpness.

How hadn't I noticed that the sky was a dull grey and nothing like what was promised at daybreak?

The rustle of paper diverts my attention. Rose has taken off her shoes and is sitting cross-legged with the book in her lap. It looks as if she's on the very last page.

My hands tighten on the wheel as suddenly a sensation courses through me, energy rapidly flooding my bloodstream and swelling up my muscles. I feel like I could run laps for hours. I'm stronger, capable, focused and the fear and reservations melt away. But I needed to remember that it was all borrowed and the reality of the situation is I am not in good shape. The adrenaline pumping through my veins is merely glue holding me together and once it thins I was going to crash. Hard. I'll have to tell Ben at the first opportunity. There's no other choice. It was dangerous enough I was on another dose within forty-eight hours and the best outcome was that we would be aboard the plane where I would have more than enough time to pass out with discretion and be coherent enough when we landed back in the states. I'd have to switch with one of the others on the detail home. I won't be capable of driving.

Funny, right now I feel capable of anything so it's hard to fully comprehend that in around five I'll be useless.

Rose lets out a small, contented sigh.

"Well?" I can't help but prompt and turn to her expectant. "What do think?"

"Uh…" She starts, the look of surprise on her face that came with adjusting out of the fantasy in her mind to reality. I'm familiar with the feeling. "I really liked it. It's hard to picture some things but I think that makes me like it more, yano? Because I want to be able to understand it but at the same time I can't really because it doesn't exist but it's tied to a lot of things that do. I dunno, sounds stupid really."

"Not at all."

She smiles. "It says Harry will return. Is there another book?"

"There are six more I believe." Her mouth drops open. "And even more movies. I'm sure Natalie would be able to get those for you."

"Do you have more books?"

"I don't, no. But we can see about getting you them."

"Could I… I mean, can I buy them? With um, my money?"

"I don't see why not."

She beams and looks forward. "I'm going to get chocolate. Lots of it."

I grin. "It's your money."

Her smile falters slightly. "How is it mine though? How do I get it? Why… it's Victor's money so why are you saying it's mine?"

"You provide a service. Services demand payment, it's what's fair?"

"Fair." She murmurs. I can only imagine how confused she must be or how she must be feeling. To go from hours of hard labour to be rewarded with scraps to eat or to not be threatened or struck and think of that as fair, to now, where the labour is less strenuous and she is appreciated for it. Not only is she appreciated but she is given a wage, the freedom to purchase things for her own at her own will. To be in control.

The thought of someone lording over me again makes my skin crawl. My father had been a dictator because even in his absence we felt his presence but that was nothing compared to Rose's upbringing. I had food, shelter, and an education. I had accessibility to a fairer world. She hadn't.

I grip the wheel harder feeling I could pull it off.

"You seem better." She says, pulling me from my thoughts. "Did you sleep well?"

"So so." I murmur as the road stretches out in front and Lehemaa's National Park begins to fall away.

Spiridon speeds up and I follow suit. The thrum of the engine and eating up the road is begging me to floor it but I cling to that rational part of my mind.

Rose sighs contentedly, that comfortable silence we can create filling up with cab. It's the same atmosphere from last night when I wanted to stay in that room, cocooned in the firelight and able to just be.

Only now there's adrenaline zipping threw my veins and I need some way to dispel it.

"How did you find it?" I ask and feel her look at me, my eyes remain on the road. "The school I mean. I wish there was another way to...ease you in. But you did well, very well."

"Thank you." She says quietly. "It was strange. It was really strange and sometimes I felt like I was outside myself, watching myself move through it. I made myself focus on what was right in front of me instead of thinking that I was in a school with hundreds of Moroi and Dhampirs."

"You broke it down into manageable pieces so you wouldn't be overwhelmed. That was smart."

"Really?" She asks, sounding genuinely surprised and something in me recognises how important that praise is to her.

"Yes."

It's quiet for a moment and then she says. "I felt proud of myself for going to that party. There weren't a lot of people but I still felt like...it was nice being around people who didn't know about me and they talked to me because they wanted to. And...I know you were right about him but I was able to keep up with Adrian and it was harder because...because he's a boy, well at first, but then the more I talked to him the more I forgot about that. That he's Moroi."

Of course, that was a major stepping stone for her. She had never been around a Moroi male without fear of them and I...had immediately laid into her about the worst-case scenario, marring that milestone for her because I'd been... concerned.

"I wish I'd been wrong." I admit. "About him."

"Me too but it reminded me of my place."

My eyes snap to her before reverting back to the road. "Your place?"

"In the world."

It takes me back, like a physical weight pushing into my shoulders. "Rose. Rose, your place in this world is not decided on by how Adrian Ivashkov treats you. It is not to be decided by anyone and it never should have been." I exhale and fight against the adrenaline funnelling into a desire to verbally rip apart the Ozera's. I fight against it because I'm not entirely in control and the...fervency could frighten her. "You will decide where your place in the world is. Nobody else, so do not let them."

I can feel her staring at me but I keep my gaze trained ahead and berate myself for ruining the silence.

After another hour the city begins to build up in the distance with us racing toward it. We adjust our speed so we don't aggravate the local authorities. Rose drinks it in and I curse the heavens when rain spatters the window and obscures her view.

"It really isn't like home at all." She says and points to a building with tall turrets. "It's a bit like Hogwarts."

She flicks the book's back page open where an illustration of the Castle has been included.

Spiridon takes a right and I recognise the street from the city map Ben had briefed me on before we left. The bar is nestled on the main street, right in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the day and again I find myself ticking off factors that work in our favour. We park with the Blue Water Hotel visible across the quad.

"What do you have to do?"

Rose snaps to attention as Spiridon and Ben slide out of the car in front. Their eyes like mine scoured the surroundings, the buildings, and the half-hidden faces of pedestrians under their hoods and umbrellas.

"I keep quiet and don't look at anyone too long. I'm Rose, just Rose, not Rose White. I won't speak unless I'm spoken to. I do as I'm told. I stay with Ben."

"You stay with Ben. No matter what happens." I repeat and get out of the car. The cool air ignites the anticipation and drives the adrenaline to the tip of every nerve. I felt beyond myself and at the same time frustratingly self-contained, like a rocket with a burning fuse that would not reach ignition.

I glance over my shoulder as Rose pulls up her hood and skirts around the car toward us and when I turn back to the others the veil is down.

I am dialled in, focused, and removed from the true parts of myself.

I step toward Victor who's under the protection of the umbrella Spiridon holds. Without a word, we all fall into our assigned roles, flanking our Moroi as he leads the way toward the bar which neighbours the hotel lobby, easily mistaken for a separate building. A private but secure meeting point as the bar had been left behind as the hotel had been refurbished. Guests came and went out of the revolving doors as the bar lay asleep by contrast.

As we approach the entrance I exchange a look with Spiridon which conveys that no matter our discrepancies we're in agreement here. We know our roles, we have each other's back, I am his ears and he is my eyes. I am his strength and he's mine, each other's shadow. This is what we trained for, forging ourselves in the snow against illness and mother nature to become weapons that can endure. He pulls open the door and enters first, followed by Victor and then myself.

I don't look back.

I am Victor's second and I should have protested due to circumstance, insisted on Ben, but I didn't want to throw a spanner into the works or divide his attention from the task at hand. And again, I didn't want to admit my failure, my inability to perform. He's relying on me as he had done for the last year. I should have been honest but either way, it wouldn't have altered my decision with the supplements. If Ben had been in the room I'm certain, he would have made a case against it and I know later he will give me hell.

Good, I deserve nothing less.

Coming deeper into the room it opens to the right, homing more tables and booths line the wall.

"Kulastavad?" The bartender calls, sparing us a glance from the glass he's drying.

"Yes. What gave us away?" Victor replies.

He smirks. "The kitchen's closed so if you want to eat the Hotel is still serving."

"Any excuse for a liquid lunch I say." Victor answers. "I'm meeting a friend of sorts. I may need it."

"Can't be that good a friend if you bring them here." He deposits the glass under the bar. I tense until he straightens with another glass in hand.

We follow Victor's lead toward one of the booths, taking in every detail of every patron who was sparing us curious looks after listening to the exchange. With no TV, music or windows to the street, there wasn't much choice for entertainment. Interest is lost quickly. The informant had said he'd be here and so we'd arrived ten minutes later. I'm taut wire starting to fray under the strain, adrenaline singing in my blood.

"Easy boys." Victor murmurs.

He slides into a booth which gives him a good view of the rest of the room. Good, this gives us the advantage of the room and having his back covered.

"I don't like this." Spiridon says, repeating what I'd only been saying for days.

His grey eyes flick toward the entry as the door opens and Ben and Rose walk in. Ben's arm slung around her shoulders, a leisurely gait added to the civilian pose. His uniform has been swapped for jeans and a blue t-shirt with some ironic statement in white writing. His stake, like ours, was concealed inside his jacket. And other various weapons strapped to our claves or concealed elsewhere.

Ben lifts his chin toward the bartender and in perfect Estonian, he orders a beer and soda, steering Rose to a table in the opposite corner of the room. Rose is doing her best impression of being relaxed and she's almost convincing. She lifts her chin and I know she's about to look at me so I turn away. I can't be distracted. Spiridon slips into the seat by Victor and I remain standing.

The bartender sets down the drinks with a crude thud and calls out to Ben. He turns in our direction. "And your liquid lunch, sir?"

I can feel my skin solidifying, becoming rock, becoming steel and encasing all the fire and energy inside.

"Whiskey. Neat." Victor replies, looking pleasantly about him like he could be at High Table in Court rather than a dingy bar.

He produces a stout tumbler and grabs a bottle from the shelf as Ben lifts the drinks and leaves some notes.

"Kas ta isa teab, kus ta on? He smirks but it's without warmth.

Does her father know where she is?

It sends a warning sensation through me. I need to calm down, be in control.

Ben hesitates. "Ta oskab enda eest hoolitseda."

She can look after herself.

The bartender shrugs and pushes Victor's glass across the bar top. I collect it hyper-aware of every moment in the room. Picking up the tumbler I can't help but assess him, a routine check, a formation I have slipped into, my second self, my Guardian focus. He bends down to deposit another glass below the bar as I'm turning away when something catches my eye.

He straightens up. "Ja?"

"We'll open a tab if that's alright?"

He shrugs and turns away to serve another patron who's stumbled over and is using the bar to stay upright. Rose is watching him in mild disgust. I cast one look at the bartender, trying to gauge what it had been that had caught my attention but his lank blonde hair hides the nape of his neck.

On the way to the table, I inspect an old duke box nestled in the corner. I select something at random for extra coverage of our conversation. I go back to the table and slide Victor's drink toward him. He opens his mouth in thanks but the sound of the door swinging open cuts him off. A breeze passes through the room and in its wake comes the informant.

He wears a heavy coat which could be an attempt to make himself inconspicuous but in the last days of summer, even though it was raining, it sticks out as a premature choice. Or he truly did find it cold and that could indicate his origins. With hunched shoulders and hands deep inside his pockets, he stalks into the room, his eyes darting around before they land on Victor. I'd guess Moroi by his build but now having a view of his features, thin face and high cheekbones, it's confirmed. He could be mistaken for a malnourished human.

Again, my attention switches to the bartender who looks his new patron up and down. He throws a glance our way before turning away, a smirk burned onto his lips. I do another sweep of the walls making sure there's not a security camera in sight. Across the room, Ben's arm is back around Rose and their heads are close together. If I were none the wiser I would assume them a couple, locked in a private moment but Rose is angled with her back toward us so Ben can watch over her shoulder.

The informant takes a hesitant step toward us and casts a look around the room as if expecting an ambush. His anxiety is palpable and my adrenaline snaps back at it. Had he taken so long because he'd run into trouble? If he knew things about The Circle then he was either close enough to a member or a former one himself, if not still. Double agent. Operating as they have it was an insult thus far to associate this man with them. His untactful manner draws as much attention as a flashing sign. How could he know anything valuable? Unless he'd been fed his lines.

The sooner we left the better.

I try to keep my hands still but they itch.

He approaches the booth and stops a few meters short. He doesn't make eye contact despite his darting gaze. God, he better not be high. It's chaos enough that I am.

"Dashkov?" He grunts.

"Yes." Victor acknowledges like he's greeting an old friend. He leans forward. "And you, my anonymous electronic pen pal, are?"

"The very same." He says, casting another look over his shoulder and making the adrenaline in my blood hit a crescendo.

Victor gestures to the seat opposite him, to my left side, and beside him, Spirodons eyes are cold as slate. "Please, sit. Would you like a drink?" He nods curtly and side-eyes me before taking a seat. "Whiskey?"

"Merlot." He says low and rough. It's hard to depict the accent.

"Dimitri, would you?" Victor says, eyes never leaving the informant's face. I order the drink and by the time I come back to the table he's become more vocal. "Does 'subtle' to Royals mean leaving the fur and jewels at home?" He hunches low to the table, his chin tucked beneath his collar. The rain must have started coming down harder as it's sodden. I place his drink down and he impossibly becomes more rigid. He snatches it up when I resume my post.

"We have not been followed. I assure you." Victor replies smoothly. "Can you say as much?"

He snorts. "I'm not that arrogant."

"I see." Victor murmurs. "Well, you seem to know a great deal more about me than I, you and that does not put us on even ground. So, before we begin can I make your acquaintance?"

The informant's lips twitch and he lifts his glass. "I've made it this far by being a wraith."

"I see." Victor repeats but his pleasant expression begins to dim. "I'll leave it to you to begin as I don't have much experience instigating conversation with ghosts."

He snorts and I know Spiridon is itching to bounce his glass off his head but to his credit, he sits utterly still. "You surprise me, Prince Dashkov. I thought Royals more demanding, more entitled." Victor's reply is a twitch of the lip, a cold acknowledgement, a tell that the teasing got to him. "Hmm, well then. I suppose you want to know what I know. But you know the most important already, The Circle are not a vigilante group seeking revenge against Strigoi."

"Oh, no?" Victor hums.

"No." He takes a deep sip. Hopefully, it loosens him up. Victor hadn't touched his drink but his hand is curled around the tumbler. Manipulative body language. "The Circle are not just looking for the eradication of Strigoi although who wouldn't want that?"

"So what do they want?" Victor's eyes are hungry.

The informant smirks down at his glass. Not once had he looked Victor in the face and at first, I assumed nerves and then submission but now… now I thinks it's a way to elude him. To have more of an advantage than just his information, an advantage at not being able to be read. I look back to the bar. The bartenders serving a patron who's watching us. They look away.

I don't like this. It isn't private. It isn't secure. It's a spectacle and if The Circle didn't know they had a leak then they'd have more than one resource to find out.

Ben has his face turned to Rose's, their noses almost touching and I almost miss what the informant says.

"A new order."

"And what kind of order would that be?"

"In America, you live a parody of the old world. The time of the Royal monarchy burned to ash, quite literally, yet you still implant a hierarchy and call it fair. A fair system built on ashes and fear. Your mad king severed alliances, abusing protocol and budget to live a life of hedonism. He may be gone but his ways are not. You all like to believe you still have the right to live so large and leave so little to the rest. Hoard the bodyguards, build the walls higher whilst yelling down at us that all is well. De-mock-cracy. I hear your speeches Lord Dashkov, I hear Badica's announcement to lower the graduation age for novices, I hear Voda's plan of new vacation fortresses for those who can afford them but where do we hear the people, Lord Dashkov?"

Victor's expression has hardened, the informant giving him more than he'd expected, accusations rather than information. "And The Circle wishes to what? Propose everything to the public vote and give the enemy more time and opportunity? The Royals, and not all of us in the Coalition are Royal, are more familiar with politics, with trade and security and our history. We have all suffered. Royal is merely a title, a proud one at that, I carry a lineage of politicians and doctors and teachers. My title does not guarantee me anything bar knowledge. I lived through the fall of the monarchy, and so did my peers on the council, we know what's at stake. That's why we are working tirelessly to preserve what we have left. Nothing is guaranteed, my name does not guarantee me anything."

"Does it not Prince and Lord Dashkov?"

Victor's eyes narrow and my fingers curl into my palms. I will Spiridon to keep his head. "And what is it you want exactly? You've requested nothing bar my audience. You layed the trail so why have you led us here? What part do you play for your group?"

"You assume I'm one of them?"

"I'd wager that's why you can't look me in the eye."

"I hope you don't gamble everything so flippantly." He swirls the liquid in his glass.

I stiffen, my pulse slowing in my ears, knowing Spiridon is an echo of myself. Across the bar, Ben would be watching and our body language would have him coiled ready to spring.

"From your leader? Zmey? Interesting name for a leader is it not? And should you really be following ideals set by someone with the namesake of a snake?"

"He is not my leader." He takes another drink. "But I do know his means. He moves against Nathan as Nathan moves against the people whilst you sit back in your mansions and write speeches and lament the world. He sends fighters to defend the communities that are vulnerable, offers to train them to protect themselves as the Strigoi attacks and numbers grow. Encourages them to think for themselves and not await idle orders from the West. Court does not care for the people but its greed, its power. The Circle wants to give power back to those who need it and stronger they will be. A circle cannot be penetrated if the people that made it are strong."

Victor regards him and I get the sense that he's amused. It makes me more on edge. "Zmey's goal…is to lead a revolution to a military state?"

The informant lifts his head, a sharp fraction, it's the first time he's looked Victor in the face. "Do not mock or belittle. That's not what I've said unless you really are a politician to the core and do not listen. It's about raising the people up who have been stifled, neglected and left in their own fear. Your king, you royals, failed to protect them or offer protection because you were all so concerned about harvesting Guardians. Breeding them you took your eye off the enemy and what they were actually doing. The shadow grew in the East and Nathan has spearheaded the opportunity. He's done the unthinkable, the unimaginable, he has trained them to work together. You, Mr Dashkov, and your elite have left us open to the enemy."

Spiridon is dying for the word or even a small signal to put this man down. I can feel it burning off him.

"I am sorry you are of that opinion." Victor says slowly after a moment. "And that you have been sucked into this…cult."

"Cult?" He growls leaning forward. I sidestep to bear over him and he dismisses me with a glance.

There is a rise in his voice that didn't sit right and not because of the hostility but the shift in how he pronounced his vowels. That warning sensation shoots down my spine tinged with ice. I look back at the bartender and he's engaged in low conversation with the same patron. The same patron who'd supposedly been so drunk the bar had been propping him up but now he looked sober. The bartender scratches the back of his neck, the blonde hair sticking up at an angle due to the grease. Either the back of his neck is exceptionally dirty or he had a tan…but it was a bit too late in the season… and why would the rest of him be so pale?

"We have been gifted with magic. There isn't anything novel about using it to defend ourselves. It's our God-given right and history can attest." The informant seethes.

"History can also attest to the atrocities, murders, and wars committed by Moroi using their powers. The chaos caused for humans and not to mention there are other societies that would put it down."

"The Alchemists? The Circle have no vendetta with humans or wishes to expose ourselves to them but if the Strigoi force is not stopped then it's only a matter of time. The Alchemists will stand with the stronger force."

Victor sighs. "You have not convinced me. I believe in Moroi learning to use their magic defensively. There is a bright young lady back home putting together a scheme to teach whoever wants to learn. I advocate that, will even be a part of learning myself but to advance against Strigoi? We are not warriors. I will not stand by that. I will not stand going to war with Nathan just because he has made a big enough shadow of himself. I won't dignify him with the respect of being a commander, a worthy opponent to our standard. He is after all more animal than man. And man puts animals down, that is the history of the world. He will make moves against us and we will be ready. Our Guardian's training and learning have changed to accommodate the climate. The attack patterns are getting clearer. The political system…yes it's rocky but we have come far in the past few years and I will fight to my last breath to do the best for our people. I came here thinking perhaps I would be given an in with an ally. I thought Zmey would be the key to stabilising the old country and the East, ears to the ground, to puzzle out the remaining patterns and help stand strong. I was wrong."

The informant leans back in his seat, shoulders dropping as he swirls the wine in his hand and a smile tugging at his lips. Victor stands and Spiridon is instantly on his feet. I glance at Ben and Rose, she has her book opened on her lap and traces a line with her finger murmuring under her breath but he isn't listening. He's looking at the bar but I know he's watching us. He drains the last of his beer.

"You are wrong Mr Dashkov."

Victor stops adjusting his collar. "Pardon me?"

The informant's head tips back. "I did not come to convince you. I came to warn you."

"Oh?"

"Your time is over."

My hands are fists, the body of the stake pressed against my ribs. Spiridon's resolve is crumbling, his lips have pulled back over his teeth. He's never looked more feral. Victor looks disappointed. "Thank you for your time."

Three things happen at once. The informant moves quickly, producing a cane from his coat and with a sharp click it fires out, with a crack it hits the wood partition blocking Victor and Spiridon's path. Spiridon has already pulled Victor behind his body. My hand has a fistful of the informant's coat ready to hurl him across the room.

"We are not done here."

Spiridon's grey eyes flash and only Victor's hand on his shoulder holds him back from being let loose. "Out with it."

The informant's head turns a fraction to his left to indicate I should remove my grip. With a nod from Victor, I release him and there's a metallic click as the cane recedes.

"You are to take this message back with you and you are to tell your elitist government that change is coming. The people will decide what is best for them and work together to protect one and other. No more Dhampir shields, just allies."

Victor's expression is so dry it risks cracking and I can practically feel Spiridon battling with the urge to laugh.

"I will make my Coalition aware."

A prickle runs over my neck and despite protocol, my instinct takes my eyes away from the current situation and over my shoulder to the bartender. The room is tense, having drawn attention to ourselves, but he had his back to us and is rubbing an already crystal clear glass. Either he is studiously trying to mind his own business because you can't bear witness to something you ignored but I know he's listening and the way he's holding himself gives that much away. It's not a poise of someone meek, ready to shy away should conflict break out but… feet apart, shoulders set, ready – I look at the back of his neck. The blonde is lank and curling, darker underneath…the dark strand trembles.

"'My Coalition'". The informant repeats, a sardonic laugh behind his words. "Does that not say it all?"

Anxiety, adrenaline, and instinct pull me to look back at the threat but I don't. I focus intently on the back of his neck, a part of me scared that the stimulant had begun to impair my mentality, and it does it again. I stare at it and it hits me like a bus. It's not a strand of hair that my mind has turned into an eel. Instead, it solidifies on his skin and like makeup being washed away another appears beside it. The blonde hair starts to recede.

This time I do grab the informant by his collar and I hurl him backwards. He crashes onto the tiled floor in the middle of the room. Spiridon is already standing by my side so Victor is walled in.

"They're glamoured." I say loud enough for Ben's ears. He hadn't risen to his feet but he had turned in his seat, an arm protectively across Rose, still under the guise of a protective boyfriend.

"Sonvubitch." Spiridon growls, his wolf eyes flicking between targets. He's seeing, as I am, as Victor and Ben are, that the people in the rooms' appearance are shifting and melting away, morphing into new shapes and colours. The patrons had been glamoured to conceal their true faces but the molinja mark on the back of the bartender's neck has been the chink in the armour and once I focused my attention on it, it had unravelled the entire thing.

The informant gets to his feet, back to us, and brushes himself down. His hair is darkening as he pushes the growing strands out of his face. "I had started to believe we were going to get away with that." He declares in a stronger voice with an accent far richer than before. My hand inches inside my jacket. I take my eyes off him to see who the bartender has morphed into.

Mikhail Tanner has a hand braced on the bar ready to vault over it and by the look on his face, put me down.

The informant turns toward us throwing off the coat and revealing a black button-down and dark jeans. "What gave us away?"

The Moroi grins at us, his perfectly white teeth and fangs flashing against his dark skin. His hair has turned from mousy to ebony and his eyes had deepened to burnt chocolate. There's something unnervingly familiar about them. I slide the stake from its hold.

He tuts. "There may be no need for that."

"That remains to be seen." Victor says.

The Moroi grins, eyes trained between our shoulders. "Spoken like a true elitist, hidden behind his walls. Tell me, what will you do when your Guardians are indisposed? Bargain the family jewels?" Spiridon's stake is in hand and I will him not to impale him just yet. I calculate the odds of giving him enough cover to get Victor out if I took this end of the room and Ben the other. We could chorale them into the centre and create a window. "I digress. What gave us away?"

"Tanner." I utter.

"Ah." The Moroi throws a wicked grin at the traitor. "You recognise Mikhail?"

"Considering we have spent the last fou days hearing him called a hero." Spiridon growls.

"That hasn't changed. The children were lucky he was there."

"How are you implicated in this Tanner? How are you even alive?" Victor demands.

"Digressions." The Moroi announces like he's hosting some bizarre dinner party. "As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted, you are to take this message back and allow change to follow."

"I understand." Victor makes himself say after a moment. "Is that all?"

The Moroi takes leather gloves from his pockets and slips them on. "Nearly. Forgive me but I don't trust you to adhere to your word alone so I would like a security deposit." He crosses to a woman, that had been staging herself as a patron, who passes him a suit jacket. He slides it on and it becomes painfully more obvious how we'd been played. I have the urge to tell Victor 'I told you so'. "You have something on the Ozera's. Something you've been able to tie around their necks and drag them back to Court with. I want that around yours also."

My hand tightens around the silver and I draw the stake from my jacket, the metal warming with my rage. I dare not to look at Rose. The Moroi is still fiddling with his gloves and assessing the room like hosting old friends.

"And what business would that be to you?" Victor sounds incredibly calm, the still air before the storm. "Zmey."

The informant's face alights. "And so, we are introduced. To answer your question my business is my business. I want that information and then you can leave. Go back to America, take my message with you and wait for us. We might not agree but we need not be enemies Lord Dashkov, our goals after all are the same."

"Just say the word." Spiridon says under his breath.

The eyes of the snake fall on him. "Spiridon Aetos. Dashkov's near for four, five years? Recruited fresh from graduation. Dashkov's loyal dog. Dogs can be put down."

My blood is singing to accept the challenge. A part of me wants Spiridon to snap to give me the excuse. Every nerve in my being lit with the promise of a fight, of fists hitting flesh and bone with dull thuds and wet smacks. To receive a blow so I can revel in the pain. But my head still holds the reigns and as much I want a fight we needed to avoid it. Tanner is one of the main reasons. An equipped skill set to rival us and that's not accounting for the rest of the Dhampirs in the room. The odds are not in our favour. Then there are the two other Moroi and the way in which Zmey had been speaking of wielding magic as weaponry didn't fill me with confidence.

The snake's eyes flit to me. "Dimitri Belikov. Top of your class, still holding record, surpassing your colleagues here but declined an invitation into a Royal household, not twice, but three times. One being our lost Zeklos clan. Does it haunt you to think how it may have been different if you had been there that night?"

He expects me to lie or to break but I allow the silence to speak. He watches me with those unnerving and unblinking eyes, a reptile waiting to strike. He grins and slowly he turns until he's facing -

"Ben White. What you lack in merit beside these two you make up for in technical engineering. I would hazard to guess there's some new little gadget ticking away in your pocket."

"Would you like a first-hand demonstration?" Ben responds, not thrown or intimidated.

"Another time. I've changed my mind. For now, I will take care of the little one for insurance purposes. Then once you've done as I have asked we will return her back to you." He turns back to Victor. "That is my condition."

Over my dead body.

"You want to hold a little girl ransom?" Victor says, allowing judgment to saturate his voice.

Rose is holding onto Ben's wrist and something about it is more protective of him than it is about protecting her. Like she wants to hold him back from danger. Those big dark eyes are trained on the snake and there's less fear than I would have thought.

"A little girl whose origins we cannot trace and whom you've masqueraded as your Guardians sister. Ben White was orphaned at seven and left in the care of the school system. But you took care to bring her across the world with you, protect her under a false identity so she must be of some value…and given how you portray yourself so publicly about your concern for the youth, you wouldn't want her on your conscience."

Say the word, Victor. Say the word.

"Or if you have evidence of the Ozera's bribe handy by all means."

The fucking irony. The security he wanted was the very same he was going to settle for. And God knows what information he would try and squeeze out of Rose. Rose, who'd been compelled to forget when she wasn't with us, who was terrified of being left behind, and who I'd only just been starting to convince she was worth more than being property. And yet here we were, with a Moroi trying to covet her again.

Over my dead body.

Zmey takes a few steps toward us, the lord of the room, utterly confident, his soldiers ready, he has us cornered, he has one of the most powerful giants in our world in the palm of his hand waiting to surrender.

Didn't he know that giants don't bow to snakes?

"Buria." Victor says clearly above the music.

Zmey's eyes harden as I reach behind me for the chair he'd previously been sitting on, and hurl it at Tanner.

Updated 17/04/2022