The ownership of all characters related to and involving the novels of The Vampire Academy and Bloodlines Series remain the sole property of Richelle Mead, the Penguin Group and any affiliates.

No copyrights have been infringed on maliciously.

A/n: Sorry, all. This was supposed to be posted two weeks ago but I came down with an acute case of laziness. Happy Woman's Day from South Africa!

A Conflict of the Soul

Chapter Seventeen

"Cous…cousins?" Adrian stammered very slowly, struggling to spit the words out as he gaped at his uncle…my father. "Belikov is my cousin?"

Chuckling, Randall shook his head indulgently at his nephew…my cousin. "Yes, Adrian. He's your cousin. I'm his father; you're the son of my brother. It really shouldn't be that hard to work out. I think you've had a little too much to drink. Here, let me take that for you." Reaching towards the waitress as she approached with a laden tray of crystal tumblers, Randall took Adrian's and his own. Draining both quickly, he turned to me.

"Look at you, Dimka. All grown up." Smirking at me, the sight of it made my fists clench.

Now I understood why Adrian reminded me so strongly of him. Now I understood why I had always reacted to him so badly; he was a duplicate copy of his uncle. Looking at the pair of them standing so close together now, you could be forgiven if you mistook them for father and son.

"No hug for your father?" Randall taunted. Sliding the now empty glasses carelessly across the polished surface of the table, he opened his arms wide for an embrace he would never receive whilst the others continued to watch us.

I could feel their eyes on me; I could feel the questions they wanted to ask. I could feel my skin begin to crawl beneath their scrutiny. To them, I was no longer a dhampir, no longer a guardian, no longer Dimitri Belikov, but a subject of gossip. Swallowing hard against the choking sensation of acid rising into my throat, Randall smiled snidely at me, but didn't approach, not yet drunk enough to mistake the aggression in my body language.

Somewhere at the back of my mind, I had always known that this meeting would happen. In our world, it was inevitable that at some stage our paths would cross. Mentally and emotionally, I had been preparing myself for it from the moment I had decided to end his abuse. I had thought that by now I would able to accomplish it with polite indifference, but I had been wrong.

Just looking at him made my blood boil.

My mother had warned me that I would never be able to fully prepare myself for it, but I had been confident that I wouldn't allow him to bait me. Too confident, I realised now. I had been wrong; she had been right. It had been arrogant to think that seeing him wouldn't have dredged up painful memories I had spent over a decade trying to bury.

I should have listened to her. She knew him best, because at some point they must have been very happy together…until they weren't.

"No. Nothing for me? Well, that's very disappointing," Randall mocked, but still wisely kept his distance. "After all these years, I thought I would at least get that from you."

"Then I'm afraid you expected too much."

Mouth pinching in annoyance at my flat, cold tone, he signalled to a passing waitress and ordered another drink. It gave me the opportunity to look more closely at him for a moment. I told myself it was to become familiar with a man that I considered an enemy, but if I was honest with myself, it was because I was looking for similarities between us.

I didn't want to find any of myself in him.

His hair was long enough to brush against the collar of his shirt and irregularly cut, like it had been shorn off with something blunt instead of being professionally cut. His clothes, once tailor-made, were now frayed around the edges and his leather shoes were cracked and badly scuffed. His cheekbones jutted out at an angle against his pale skin. His overall appearance was too thin; worse for wear, but aside from vague facial markers, there wasn't much of him in me. I bore a closer resemblance to my mother.

Adrian had mentioned something on the plane about him moving around constantly, living off the charity of others before it ran out and he needed to find his next victim.

Like a parasite.

I could only assume that it was because he had fallen out with the Queen…my great aunt, at some stage. Under normal circumstances, he should be here at Court, living in the lap of luxury, but that wasn't the case. I couldn't imagine the Queen allowing any immediate member of her family to be that neglectful of themselves if there wasn't already an underlying issue between them. It would reflect poorly on her, and image to her was everything.

It was strange to think of her that way. I had no particular liking for the Queen or the entire Ivashkov line; they epitomized the arrogance of riches, though that didn't mean I wouldn't do my duty towards them. Now to find out that I was directly related to them…it wasn't just a strange feeling, but also an unpleasant one.

"Watch your tone, boy," Randall growled as the waitress left, glaring belligerently as he turned back to me. "This isn't Baia."

"It makes no difference where we are…and don't call me that." I responded with equal hostility in Balachka, a seldom used dialect of the Cossacks created in the seventeenth-century. It was a language passed down from generation to generation in most Russian households, and mine had been no exception. Randall would have spent enough time with my mother to understand what I was saying.

Feeling more than seeing Konrad move closer to me, he lightly tapped me on the shoulder, just once. He understood what I had said and it was a warning to me. I was still being watched too closely. Kon wouldn't understand what was going on – apart from Rose, the only person I had ever discussed him with had been Galina – but he would know me well enough to know that my reaction wasn't normal.

"What's going on?" Adrian demanded, finding his voice now that the shock of learning we were related was beginning to fade. Looking between us, his resentful green eyes flickered over me before turning to Randall. "What's he saying to you?"

"Nothing important, Adrian," he pacified, choosing for the moment not to respond to my antagonism. "We're just catching up." Accepting the glass from the waitress, Randall perched himself on the armrest of a padded armchair and looked at me curiously. "Why haven't you ever told Adrian that you're cousins? He's been training with the Princess – who, from what I've heard, you guard – for months. You two would have surely spoken to each other?"

"You knew?!" Adrian sneered accusingly; the expression of revulsion on his face perfectly echoing what I felt on the inside.

"No," I denied through gritted teeth. "I didn't. How could I? I've never known his full name. None of my family has ever known his full name."

Snorting, Randall swirled his drink. "Rubbish, boy. Your mother knew who I was. So did Yeva."

"They didn't," I spat furiously as I felt Konrad's hand clamp down tightly on my shoulder, holding me in place. It wasn't a warning this time, but a restraint. Threatening a Royal was as good as treason, and no one here would mistake that I was a threat to him. "You deliberately kept your identity a secret, just like the children you fathered in Baia."

I shouldn't be doing this. Not here and not now. My private life was just that…private. Neither it, nor my family history was something I wanted broadcast for public consumption. What I should do is stop talking, stand up and walk away, but that wasn't an option either because it would be giving Randall power he didn't deserve.

"No, I didn't. It made no difference to me if anyone found out about you and your sisters, then or now." Randall scoffed before taking a sip. "I even wanted you to move to the States when you were a teenager so that you could be educated and trained here, but your mother wouldn't agree to it. She wanted to keep her son to herself, even though I said she could keep your sisters. How are they by the way? Do I have any grandchildren yet?"

"That's a lie." I ground out gutturally, ignoring his question. He didn't deserve to know even the smallest of details about the family he had abused.

"It's not a lie. I'm telling you…Olena knew my last name. Olena wanted all of you kept a secret, not me."

"Don't say her name. Not ever."

Sighing, Randall rose and sadly shook his head at my snarl, but there was no sincerity to it. It was a sham, as false as the man himself. "That all happened a long time ago, son. It's water under the bridge. You know the truth now about who you really are, so we should be celebrating, Dimka, not arguing. Father and son reunited."

Infuriated by the allegations against my mother and his nonchalance towards our tainted past, I shrugged out from beneath Konrad's hard grip with a violent shrug. He made a grab for me, but wasn't quick enough to stop me from approaching Randall. It wasn't fast or aggressive, but no one could mistake my intent. He was tall for a Moroi – one of the only genetic traits I could see that had been passed down from him – but still several inches shorter and was forced to look up at me as I glared furiously down at him.

"You have no concept of what the word father means. I'm not your son. I'm not an Ivashkov. And what you did, will never be forgiven or forgotten. If you know what's good for you, you'll avoid me for as long as I'm at Court."

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to, Belikov?" Adrian snapped, shouldering his way past one of the guardians appointed to him whilst at Court to come to his uncle's aid, but he stopped just short of reaching us as I turned my rage his way.

Prudently choosing not to come any closer, Adrian swallowed nervously as I felt Kon at my back; there to stop me from doing anything I would later regret. Ignoring him, I again turned my wrathful gaze on Randall, who now had the good sense to look as nervous of me as his nephew. Sparing one last look of disgust at the man that was my father, I turned to leave, unable to stand being around him for a second longer.

Striding past the small gathering, all of them gave me a wide berth. Alberta, silent throughout, was wide-eyed as I jogged down the stairs and crossed the lounge. She had said on the plane that this side of me was unrecognizable to her, that she didn't know how to react to me…her expression now said the same thing. If dealing with Adrian brought out something ugly in me, dealing with my father brought out a monster.

Always fearing I would inherit his aggressive, violent tendencies, from the moment I had decided to end his abuse as a teenager, I had sworn to myself that I would never become what he was. It was the sole reason that control was so important to me. I had learnt young that remaining in control meant that I could act the way I wanted…the way that was right, versus the way I felt, and apart from the occasional slip, that had been the way I had lived my life for the past twelve years.

It had taken Randall Ivashkov all of five minutes to undo all that hard work.

I hated that the bastard had the ability to so easily erase all of that, and that I had even allowed it to happen. I hated the way he made me feel…what he turned me into. This wasn't who I was. This wasn't who I wanted to ever be. Blood will out, my mind again whispered treacherously to me, as it had done before when I was a child, but I refused to listen to it.

Giving it acknowledgment meant giving it power, and I would give that man nothing more of myself.

Nodding curtly at the seating attendant as I entered the dining-room, I requested a booth against the farthest wall, in the darkest corner of the room. I'd already had my fifteen minutes of fame…or infamy; I didn't need or want anymore. Looking uneasily towards the corner I wanted, the attendant shuffled uncomfortably and muttered an apology that the booth was unavailable.

Curious as to why he was so edgy, I looked towards the table I had wanted, and when I found it was occupied by someone who was as shady as his surroundings, I understood the attendant's nervousness. Ibrahim Mazur sat in the shadows, surrounded by Moroi eager for his attention, but his focus wasn't on them. Watching me with dark eyes that I couldn't read, his eerie familiarity still unsettled me.

Holding a wine glass, he swirled the dark red liquid around and continued to stare at me with unblinking eyes over the rim. Feeling a shiver run down my spine as the waiter quickly escorted me to a corner table, I couldn't explain my reaction to him, but there was something about the man that made me both wary and intrigued. I was glad to be out of his line of sight once seated.

Ordering the simplest of items off the menu, I only chose them to stop the waiter from hovering nervously over me. I would eat what he served me, but I wouldn't taste any of it. I would barely be able to stomach it. Running the pad of my thumb along the blunt edge of a butter knife, I tried to organize my snarled thoughts, but I didn't know where to begin.

"Alberta thinks you've lost your mind…I think you've lost your mind."

Turning in surprise to find Konrad at my side, I had been so preoccupied that I hadn't heard him approach. Pulling out a chair opposite me, he sat with a frown, but it was full of concern more than confusion. I wanted to be left alone and should have said so, but I was almost glad for his company. It meant that, for the moment, I wasn't going to be left alone with my own thoughts.

Signalling a passing waiter, Kon skipped food and went straight for the vodka. Raising a questioning eyebrow in anticipation that I would argue with him, when I said nothing, he changed the order to add the bottle. Pouring a series of shots, we both quickly downed two before slowing down on the third.

Rolling the glass between the palms of his hands, Kon's green gaze flickered over me. "I know that you don't want to talk about this."

"I don't."

"Yeah, I get that. Perfectly understandable, but…"

"No buts, Konrad. I'm not talking about it."

"Stubborn." He muttered in Russian, downing his third shot before sitting back and tracing the intricate pattern on the tablecloth.

"Private." I corrected, pushing my third shot towards him.

"Private?" Konrad snorted, turning his head to study the low-lit dining-room filled with quiet murmurs. "Man, look around you. There was nothing private about what's just happened."

I didn't need to follow the direction of Konrad's gaze to know what he was talking about, because it was no different here than it had been in the lounge earlier. I could feel the eyes of those around us. They would all be asking the same questions, speculating about the same things. It placed me under the kind of public scrutiny that I didn't need or want, especially now. This was the worst possible time for me to become a curiosity, and now because of Randall Ivashkov, that was exactly what I had become.

Clenching my fists, the blunted edge of the butter knife bit deeply into my palm, but the pain wasn't enough to dull the angry resentment.

"Hell, by now half of Court will know that Randall Ivashkov is your…" Swallowing his words as he saw my glaring expression, Konrad cleared his throat and downed the last shot. Fiddling with the glass, he nodded at the waiter as he served my meal, but didn't order anything himself. Reaching for the bottle, he poured another shot and pushed it towards me hesitantly. Shaking my head, he instead drank it himself before asking solemnly.

"What did he do, Dimitri? What can you never forget or forgive?"

When his question was met with stony silence, Kon sighed heavily. "From what I picked up, it's obvious that it has something to do with your mother. Now given what I know about Randall Ivashkov's love of drink and violent temper, I can only guess as to what it is, and I understand why that would upset you, but I'm your friend, Dimitri. If you change your mind, I'm here to listen, that's all."

Releasing the knife, I flexed my hand to restore blood flow and lowered my gaze away from Konrad's earnest eyes. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate the gesture, but baring myself wasn't something that was easy for me. There were only a handful of people I had ever trusted enough to do so, and as much as I liked and respected Kon, we had too much personal history between us for me to fully trust him…at least for now.

Nodding just once to him, he nodded back, understanding that when I wanted to talk about it, I would. Picking up the cutlery, I began to cut into the chicken lasagne I had ordered, but I couldn't eat it. I couldn't even pretend to try to eat when all I felt was physically ill. Pushing it aside, I silently offered it to Kon, who shook his head and nodded towards the bottle, intent on drinking instead of eating.

I couldn't say I blamed him; I only wished I could do the same, but having a hangover to add to everything else wasn't high on my list of things to do. It also wouldn't solve anything. Not a huge drinker by nature, most Russian's would consider me unpatriotic, but life had taught me young that drinking to excess was not something I wanted to ever practice.

Life, I snorted to myself. It hadn't been life; it had been my father who had taught me that.

As if thinking about him now had the ability to conjure him physically, he walked through the doorway of the dining-room with Adrian at his side. Laughing raucously at something he said, it was obvious to anyone who took notice that both he and his nephew were drunk. Escorted quickly by a fawning attendant to a table on the other side of the room already occupied by others, he continued to laugh loudly, obnoxiously. The sound grated jarringly over my nerves.

Disrupting the murmured conversation within the room, his coarse behaviour created frowns of displeasure amongst the diners, frowns that were at first directed towards him and his party before they were turned to where I sat. As if somehow finding out that I was related to the man, meant that I was also responsible for his bad behaviour…that they were expecting me at any minute to behave just as badly.

As if I was no longer my own person, but merely an extension of him.

Getting to my feet abruptly, I couldn't stay in the same room as him or any of the others for another minute. Kon's eyes rounded in surprise at the suddenness of my movement. Half rising, I shook my head swiftly, holding out a hand to stop him. So enraged I could barely articulate, I ground out. "I can't stay, Konrad. I'm sorry."

"Sure, Dimitri" he gently agreed, not fighting me when he could see how close to the edge I was. "I'll find you after you've spoken to the Council, okay?"

Nodding distractedly, I walked out of the claustrophobic environment of the dining-room as fast as I could without making it obvious that it was an escape. Passing Alberta's table and ignoring the concerned look she gave me, I took a deep breath as soon as I stepped out into the humid night. Closing my eyes, I tipped my head back and rubbed at the knotted muscles in my neck. I couldn't see the prying eyes anymore, but it still felt as though they were watching me.

Blowing out a frustrated puff, the release of tension did nothing to calm the boil in my blood. Feeling like the out-of-control teenager I was once, I swore viciously beneath my breath, but refused to allow myself to be controlled by the expectations of others. Checking the time, I still had the better part of an hour until I was due to see the Council again. My emotions needed to be in check by then. I couldn't allow them to overrule my arguments, should they be needed.

I wouldn't let anything that had just happened jeopardize my future.

Deciding that the best course of action was a long walk, I sank my hands into my pockets and followed a winding pathway that ran through the wide expanse of gardens and would eventually pass the administrative buildings. The time spent alone should have been enough to clear my head, but I knew that there was only one thing that had the ability to completely calm me and bring me back into focus, or rather, one person…Rose.

She would be able to view this more objectively than I was capable of – even though it was a personal matter that effected her, because it effected me – and would give me an opinion that was always honest, even if I didn't always want to hear it. I could almost hear her say now…Comrade, if you wanted me to sugar-coat it, you should have brought me a doughnut.

Grinning despite myself, if I was honest, it wasn't just the objectivity that I wanted from her. It was the feel of her arms wrapped tightly around me. Comfort…that was what I wanted the most at the moment. It was a strange thing to want at my age, but there it was. Just being near her gave me more solace and peace than anything else in life ever had. Being apart from her for the last twenty-four hours had been a special kind of Hell. Even just the sound of her voice would have helped, but she would only be assigned a mobile phone after graduation, so not even that was possible.

Finding my own in the corner of my pocket, it reminded me that although I couldn't phone one person that I loved, I could phone another…my mother. She couldn't offer me the same kind of comfort, but maybe she could help with another kind of perspective. I didn't for a moment believe any of Randall's lies; my mother would never have kept something like this from us, but I wanted it confirmed by her.

Dialling our home in Baia, it was early morning in Siberia, but I knew that she would be awake, either cleaning or baking. Hearing the call connect, when it was picked up a few moments later, it was Olena's voice that I heard.

"Mamochka?"

"Dimka!" Breaking out into a burst of delighted Russian, Olena would only stop talking long enough for me to answer the previous question before she asked the next. We hadn't spoken in over a month, and like any concerned parent, she was anxious to know everything. Reassuring her that everything was well, I asked about our family and she again started to ramble on before asking.

"Is Rose with you?"

Shaking my head amusedly, I reached up and plucked at a Wisteria flowering overhead. It had been Yeva that had let that particular cat out the bag after our phone call three months ago, when she had first warned me of a threat and had repeated the name Rose. My family had very quickly worked out for themselves what that had meant, and since then, had insisted on speaking to Rose whenever I called them.

Actually, insisted wasn't a strong enough word. They all but demanded it, and would squabble amongst themselves as to who got to speak to her first and for the longest. I allowed it, good naturedly for the most part; impatiently on others, because it was unlikely that the information would ever get back to the States.

"No, Mamochka. She isn't with me."

"Oh." Sounding disappointed, I wondered if it was Rose she was more excited to talk to than me. "How is she?"

"She's good. Preparing for trials on Thursday."

"So soon? Is she nervous?"

"No. Very eager."

"Please give her my best and wish her luck…from all of us."

"As soon as I get back to the Academy, I will."

"You're not at the Academy?"

"No. Guardian Petrov and I flew out to Court this morning."

"Royal Court? What are you doing at Court?"

"Guardian business." I answered vaguely. I had never told any of them of my request to transfer after graduation, and until everything was official, there wasn't much point in saying anything now. I would know soon enough, and then I would make the call to them.

"Is anything wrong?"

"No." I only hoped that was the truth. "Mamochka, I need to ask you something."

"Of course. What is it, Dimka?"

"Do you know a man by the name of Randall Ivashkov?"

Frowning when there was no reply, I thought for a moment that the call had been disconnected, but I could hear the sound of my mother's breathing on the other end. It was fast and choppy, almost panicked. Stopping beside a bench overlooking a fountain surrounded by brightly coloured boxed gardens of Petunia's, Geranium's and Begonia's, the sound of the trickling water wasn't loud enough to hide that.

Sitting on the cushioned, wrought-iron seat as the silence lengthened, suspicions and doubts began to form in my mind.

"Mamochka, are you still there?"

"Yes, I'm still here."

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes…is he at Court?"

"He is."

"What has he said to you?"

"More than I'm sure you ever would have wanted him to." Tilting my head, I closed my eyes and slumped back against the hard bench as I realised my suspicions had been correct. It seemed as though my father wasn't a complete liar after all, and that my mother was more of one than I would ever have believed. "You've always known who he was, haven't you?"

"Yes." Olena answered with heavy reluctance, knowing there was no point in denying it.

"Why not tell us?" I asked weakly, trying to make sense of everything. "It would make no difference to us, you know that, so why lie and say you never knew his name?"

"As protection. I couldn't save you as children from his fists, but I made certain that I could protect you and your sisters from his legacy as adults."

"What legacy? He has nothing; he's an outcast, and even if he wasn't, he would never publically acknowledge us as his." He had said that he wanted to, with me, not necessarily my sisters, and that it was Olena who had put a stop to all of that. I wanted my mother to deny it, to prove that he was still nothing more than a selfish bastard who lied to save face.

"He wanted to," Olean confessed. "Especially you. His daughter's weren't as important to him, but his son was. He wanted you to leave Baia and return to Court with him so that you could be educated and trained there, and I wouldn't let him take you. That's what that last fight was about…the fight you stopped. I didn't want you being raised there, with them. You would never be fully accepted, and I didn't want their influence to change who you were."

So, another truth from Randall. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I tried to organize my muddled thoughts. For so long I had built up in my mind that my father was nothing more than a villain. That there was nothing good about the man, that all he cared about was himself. My mother had never done or said anything to discourage that. Now to learn that Olena had allowed me to believe it instead of telling me otherwise was a bitter pill to swallow.

"What happened when you saw him?" Olena pressed almost hesitantly.

"What do you think happened? I threatened him. Told him he was lying to me, only he wasn't the one lying, was he?"

"Maybe not about that, but that doesn't mean he's a good person, and that he hasn't lied about other things. I sorry that I kept the truth from you and your sister's, Dimka, but what I did; I did to keep my children safe. If I had to do it all over again, I would."

Plucking at a Jasmin blossom that had fallen onto my thigh from the bush twining around the Wisteria, Olena seemed to be waiting for me to answer before she continued. I was glad for it as I twirled the tiny bloom. It gave me a minute to myself as I tried to walk in her metaphorical shoes. If I was a father, and I had felt that my children were at risk, would I have acted any differently, even if it meant lying to them was the best way to protect them? Wasn't that every parents' responsibility? To do whatever it was in their power to protect…wasn't that what Janine had done for Rose?

Granted, her motives weren't as pure as Olena's, but at the end of the day, their intentions had both been the same; a mother protecting her child. How could I fault either of them for only wanting what was best for their children? How could I feel angry about that?

"Dimka?" Olena pressed, sounding more than a little worried now.

"I'm here."

"I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you with this."

Tossing aside the blossom, I felt instantly guilty for questioning her love. Finding out that she had kept this from my sisters and I had come as a surprise, but that didn't change how any of us felt about the man. His motives for wanting me to join him in the States as a teenager would have been purely selfish, as was his reason for not wanting his daughters. "I know, and you didn't. This changes nothing about how I feel. It was just…a shock."

"I should have told you all long ago…especially you. I knew that at some stage the two of you would meet, but the older you became, the harder it was. Also, there was a part of me that thought you would have wanted to go with him when you were a boy. Is he going to be a problem for you at Court?"

"No." Hearing the hardened tone in my voice, Olena didn't question me further. "Will you tell Karolina, Sonja and Viktoria?"

"Did you tell him anything about them?"

"No, he doesn't deserve to know anything about them or their children, but I think you should still tell them. I doubt it will change their minds about him."

"You're right; they do and I need to deal with my own fears by not using my children as an excuse. You're all old enough now to know the truth and to make you own decision about your father."

"Don't call him that. He doesn't deserve to be called that."

Hearing the raw antagonism in my voice, my mother gently said. "Talk to me, Dimka."

Sighing, I turned my face towards a cool breeze gently fluttering through the leaves of the tree above me. This was one of the reason's I had phoned my mother in the first place, but I found that talking to her about my fears and insecurities wasn't as easy as it had once been. Quiet for a long moment whilst I collected myself, Olena eventually asked quietly.

"Dimka?"

"You warned me that I would never be fully prepared to face him and I didn't listen. You were right to warn me, and I was wrong not to listen."

"That's not your fault. I knew him better than you did."

"I still should have listened. Maybe then I would have been better equipped to deal with how he makes me feel."

"What do you mean?"

"He has this ability… to bring out the worst in me with such ease that it makes me wonder if I have more of him in me than I thought."

Hearing Olena snort on the other end of the line, I frowned at the phone before she answered. "You listen to me now, my son. You are nothing like your father, no matter how he makes you feel or react. You are kind, honourable and considerate. Randall Ivashkov is none of those things."

"Was he like that always?"

"No."

"Then how do you know that I won't eventually be just like him?"

"Because the warning signs were always there with him, and there are none with you."

"You're sure?"

"I'm positive." Smiling at the fierce belief in her voice, I asked. "If you saw them in him, why did you still choose him?"

Olena sighed."Because I was young, stupid and in love. When you're all three of those things, you can't see reason or listen to advice. I love you and your sisters more than anything in this world, and I would not give any of you up for anything, but there isn't a day that goes by that I don't regret choosing him as your father."

"Who gave you advice?"

"Your grandmother. Yeva begged me not to get involved with him."

"Yeva told you to stay away from Randall?"

"Yes, though she would never exactly tell me why."

"Yes, she's like that, isn't she?" I muttered darkly. It seemed Yeva was very good at keeping things to herself, especially when it involved members of her family. Reminding me of the vague warning she had issued three months ago, I suddenly remembered that there was someone at Court who also possessed a similar, unique gift.

Rhonda.

The interpretation of the tarot cards she had given me when we were here for Victor Dashkov's trial had ultimately proven wrong; I hadn't lost what I valued the most – Rose – despite all of the ways that I could have, but that didn't mean that if I went to see her again, she might not be able to give me some sort of insight into what Yeva was keeping to herself. Glancing at my watch, I still had half an hour before I had to meet again with the Council. That was more than enough time to try and get the answers I wanted.

"Mamochka, I'm sorry to cut our conversation short, but I have a meeting at 9pm and there's someone that I have to see before then."

"Of course. I understand. If Rose is with you when you phone next week, let me speak to her before your sisters."

Chuckling, I stood and walked towards the path that would lead to the flag-stone buildings that housed the spa facility. "I can't make any promises, but I'll try. Give everyone my love."

"I will. I love you, Dimka."

"I love you, too." Ending the call, my fingers curled tightly over the mobile for a moment before pocketing it as I crossed over the overlapping pathways. Well, I had wanted the truth and now I had it…it just wasn't the truth that I had been expecting and certainly was of no comfort to me. Preoccupied by the knowledge of my unpleasant paternal linage and the lies that came with it, I walked through the gleaming doors of the spa without giving it more than a cursory glance.

The setup was the same as when we had been here to testify. Clean lines of glass and marble dominated the reception area. There were a handful of Moroi already enjoying the services provided for by the spa, but they paid me little attention as I walked to the front deck and asked for Rhonda.

Directed towards a long corridor on my right by the curious reception, I followed the same directions I had been given the last time when looking for Rose and Lissa. Turning into the third corridor on my right, the door at the end was still unmarked, but I could smell the incense. Knocking, I heard a quiet voice call out to enter. Finding a much older Moroi behind the desk than I had met the last time, the door behind her was open and the burning incense wafted lazily along the air currents from it.

"Can I help you?"

Turning to the receptionist, I introduced myself and asked to see Rhonda, apologizing for not making a booking. Checking her appointment book, the reception scowled for a moment before nodding. "You're in luck. Rhonda's next appointment has just cancelled, so she's free. Cash or card?"

Paying her, she rose and gestured. "This way please."

Leading me towards the open doorway, the décor in the room was exactly the same: red's of varying shades interwoven with gold in tapestries, cushions and sofas. Seated behind a low table, Rhonda's bright black eyes flickered over me with an intensity that I still found a little unnerving. Beginning to introduce me, Rhonda held out a hand to the receptionist.

"I remember him…Guardian Belikov, isn't it?"

Nodding and amazed that she remembered me, Rhonda smiled and gestured for me to take a seat on one of the cushions across from her before looking up a the receptionist. "Thank you, Lorraine." Leaving us with a quiet click of the door closing behind her, Rhonda reached for the cards and began to shuffle them with practiced ease; waiting patiently for me to start the conversation as I folded my long legs beneath me and sat.

"I'm surprised that you knew who I was."

Smiling, Rhonda looked over me again, but more with curiosity than interest. "I have a good memory, but to be honest, it was Rose who created the most memorable impression when she arrived with Princess Vasilisa," she admitted almost sheepishly. "How are they both?"

"Well, thank you. They both graduate at the end of the week; Rose is preparing for trials on Thursday."

"Hmmm…a daunting prospect. How is she feeling?"

"More than ready for it."

Nodding, Rhonda continued to shuffle slowly; her hands caressing each card rather than handling it. "I was saddened to learn of the attack on the Academy. It was such a terrible tragedy to lose so many, but also, very brave of all of you to venture beyond the safety of the wards to rescue those who had been taken."

"We all did what we could."

"Rose was part of the rescue?"

"She was."

"Does she still feel as though she was short-changed over my prediction that she will destroy that which is undead?"

Clearly remembering her undisguised disgust at the interpretation, I grinned and shook my head. "I don't think she does anymore. Not that she would ever admit to it."

Laughing, Rhonda shook her head; the black curls bouncing around her face as the jewels in her dangling earrings glinted in the low light. "No, she wouldn't, would she?" Placing the cards facing down in the middle of the table, her amusement slowly gave way to curiosity. "What can I do for you, Guardian Belikov?"

"I'm here for a reading."

"Really? Forgive me, but you don't strike me as the type of man who indulges in what most would call a waste of time."

"My grandmother is a vrăjitoare. Because of that, I have more respect for what you do than most."

"Ah…that would explain it then. Does she still practice?"

"She does on occasion, although of late, her answers have been very obscure."

"Is that why you've come to me?" She asked with interest, hearing the undertone of my annoyance. "To gain better insight?"

"Yes."

"Very good." Placing her hands on the table, she was careful not to touch the cards. "Please take the deck and cut the cards, Guardian Belikov."

Doing as I was instructed, I quickly shuffled and cut before handing them back to her. I had no idea of what to expect, of course, and part of my was as sceptical as Rose would have been, had she been in my place, but I still felt the possibilities outweighed the disappointments.

Taking the top three cards, Rhonda swiftly turned them so that they were now facing upwards and placed each of them side by side and spaced equally apart. Feeling my stomach lurch sickeningly at the sight of them, the cards that Rhonda had revealed were the same three from the reading before…the Knight of Rods, the Wheel of Fortune and the Five of Cups.

"That can't be right," I whispered, shaken by what I was seeing. It had to be a mistake. There was no other explanation for it. Rhonda would realise that any second now. She would apologize, saying that she had dealt incorrectly and that I should cut again and ignore this, but as I lifted my staggered gaze to hers, there was no hint of professional embarrassment.

"It's accurate, Guardian Belikov," Rhonda softly confirmed, not seeming to take any offence to my criticism. "I dealt as you cut…and if I remember correctly, wasn't that the same reading I gave you when you were here last?"

"No…it can't be right," Swallowing around the tightness in my throat, I croaked out. "Cut them again, please."

"Guardian Belikov…" Rhonda began to protest, but something in my eyes…desperation, horror, fear, stopped her from refusing. Silently collecting the cards, she quickly reshuffled, focusing her attention entirely on them for as long as it took. Satisfied, she handed them back to me again. I couldn't control the tremble in my fingers as again I cut and gave them back to her.

Eyeing me a little warily now, she flipped the top three over one by one, but as the second was revealed to again be the Wheel of Fortune, I didn't need her to turn the last to know that it would be the Five of Cups. Three times she had read…three times it had been the same. There was no mistake in this, and there was no escaping it. I felt the blood drain from my face as panic set in.

"Guardian Belikov?" Rhonda asked quietly. "Do you want me to interpret this for you?"

Horrified by what I was seeing, I numbly shook my head. There was no need for her to interpret it; I knew it word for word. "You will lose what you value most, so treasure it while you can. The wheel is turning, always turning."

"Yes, that's exactly what it means. To break it down simply, The Knight of Rods is obviously you," Rhonda explained in what sounded like a nervous rush. "An honourable man; strongly driven and determined to succeed. The Wheel of Fortune…a turning point in your life, either good or bad, and the Five of Cups, a card that means loss in your life, and the difficulties of dealing with that loss."

"But it can't be right," I repeated in a hollow voice, feeling my skin crawl as the words of Yeva's premonition overlapped with Rhonda's. "It should have changed." But it hadn't, so what was I missing? Was it Victor…was he the unseen danger?

"These interpretations are not set in stone, Guardian Belikov," Rhonda offered almost apologetically as my mind reeled. "No matter how many times you receive the same reading or cut the cards. The future is subjective; the tiniest change could send it spinning out in a hundred different directions. What it meant then doesn't necessarily mean the same now. The wheel is always turning."

The tiniest change? The changes were never tiny in my life; the knock on affects of them were nothing short of massive, and right now, there was only one turning point in my life that would create the kind of change that would take what I valued the most from me, and it had nothing to do with Victor Dashkov.

My request for transfer.

Was that the reason? Would I lose Rose because of a making the only decision I could to keep us together? Is that what Yeva had seen? I hadn't told her or any member of my family, but that didn't mean she wouldn't have known that this was coming. If my request for transfer was granted, but as punishment for daring to ask for it, I was sent to some far flung corner of the world instead of Court, I would have no way being near her…of protecting her. Giving Rose the medallion would be the only way I had any connection to her, even if it was only through Yeva.

Did this mean that no matter how I challenged the decision I had yet to hear, I would still lose Rose? Had I now just become the biggest threat to my own future?

Meeting Rhonda's eyes, I could see the concern and confusion at my reaction. She would have been taught to deal with adverse reactions to her predictions, but it was clear she was out of her depth with mine. I could feel the anguish of it creeping into my skin…I could only imagine what I actually looked like.

"Are you alright, Guardian Belikov?"

Rising quickly, I shook my head as the cards loomed ominously, mocking me for thinking that I had circumvented their will. Startled by my sudden movement, Rhonda cautiously began to stand, but I shook my head, backing away as my hand fumbled for the handle of the door.

"Thank you, Rhonda. Please excuse me."

Leaving before she could argue, the quick pace of my footsteps echoed along the corridor as I barely managed to stop myself from running. Pushing through the swinging doors of the spa, I found that once I was outside, it did nothing to quell my panic and impending sense of doom. Breathing in short spurts, it filled my chest with heavy pressure as I tried to calm my spinning mind and rioting emotions.

What had I done?

It was a question I had asked myself after leaving the Council meeting hours earlier, and one that I now asked myself again. Feeling the seconds tick away, I didn't need to see the actual time to know that I was running out of it. Having no other choice but to face the consequences of my decision, I began the short walk to the administration building to see those who held my fate in their hands…a fate I had unthinkingly handed to them.