Dear Diary,

When I crawled into bed last night, I was past the point of exhaustion. Foolishly I'd assumed that once I found a dress for the dance I would be done trying on things for the day—but that wasn't the case at all. First I'd been poked and prodded while Joy examined the fit and made notes on how it could be improved, then there had been an intense debate about what color the shoes should be. Lissa even wanted to buy special underthings to go beneath the dress and the 'foundation garment' Joy said we'd need—but I drew the line at modeling them... I mean, really!

Rose won out and we stopped to get some lunch, but after that there were several more shops that Lissa just had to see, and then she insisted on a walking tour around Court so she could show me some of her favorite places. It was great fun, but as the day wore on I started feeling laggy and a little sick—a side effect of my headache and the jet lag I still suffered from. I could barely touch the delicious dinner Christian prepared in honor of our visit; it was an array of dishes from our homeland, each one so artfully served that it seemed almost a sin to eat them. They were all delicious, but Roza chimed out that he needed to take a few lessons from Mama because they couldn't compare to the way she cooked things—something my grandmother and I agreed with once we were in private. You should have seen the look my mother gave her—it was filled with so much love and adoration that I felt a little twinge of irritation, though I tried my best to ignore it.

After dinner we all retired to what Lissa called the 'media room'—where there were several comfortable couches and chairs grouped around an enormous television—for some 'family time'. Apparently in America that consists of watching T.V.—whereas at home if we had a family night it would be playing games together or listening to grandmother spin stories of the past. Much to Roza's dismay Lissa put in the movie they'd been bickering about earlier, and I must say it enchanted me. I'd never seen Cinderella before, though my brother often told me the tale when I was a little girl, reading from a book of fairy stories. I probably would have enjoyed the movie a lot more if Roza hadn't spent the entire time griping about having to watch it again.

Sometimes, as much as I love her, my brother's girlfriend gets on my very last nerve—but that's just between you and me. Today... was definitely one of those days.

I had planned on sleeping in today, giving my poor body time to finally adjust to the time change. However... someone else had other ideas in mind that were entirely different than my own.

I was rudely awakened from a sound sleep by someone pouring ice cold water on my feet. This was very disturbing, for more than the obvious reason; no one should have been in my room since I'd made a point to fasten both of the deadbolts on my front door. I woke up screaming and kicking, trying to free myself from the soggy blankets while my eyes darted around the room, trying to spot the intruder. She stood by the far wall—well out of striking distance—holding an empty pitcher with an amused look on her face.

"Roza! What in the hell is wrong with you? Have you lost your mind?"

"Dimitri was right—you really are harder to wake up than me." She set the pitcher on the dresser, chuckling softly as I fought with the blankets.

"How did you get in here? I know I locked—"

"Guardian secrets. Okay... not really." She smirked, holding up a set of keys. "Seriously though—you have to get up. I have to get you to the Council meeting in less than thirty minutes."

"I'm not going anywhere but back to sleep!"

"Nope. Lissa needs you to talk to the Council—she called a special session to discuss the things you told her yesterday."

I groaned, burying my head under the pillow, but she was right there in a flash, tugging it off my head and tossing it across the room, ignoring the fact I was glaring and on the verge of smacking her. "Come on—I brought you clothes. You've gotta dress like a guardian today and it's the best I could do on short notice.

My eyes followed her as she walked over to the closet; she'd hung up and outfit on the back of the door, a black jacket and pair of pants along with a plain white shirt. I eyed it skeptically, already knowing it wouldn't fit. "Are those your clothes? Roza... the pants won't fit. You're shorter than me."

"By what, two inches? Look I already thought of that—these will cover up the fact the pants don't reach your ankles." She scooped up a pair of calf high black leather boots that were on the floor by the outfit, tossing them on the bed.

I glanced down at her feet and signed. "Those won't fit either."

"So wear em without socks. You'll have to deal with it—this is more important than comfort." She started rooting around in my dresser, pulling out a bra and panties then turned to glare at me. "Viktoria! Get the hell up!"

I rolled my eyes and climbed out of bed, snatching the undergarments from her hand as I stormed past her, heading for the bathroom—and yes I will admit I was calling her a few dirty names under my breath in my native tongue.

"No time to shower—"

"I realize that—but I have to use the bathroom!" I slammed the door in her face, grumbling under my breath.

"Well do it fast—Liss wants to talk to you before the session starts."

I felt like shouting back that I didn't particularly care what Lissa wanted, but somehow I managed to refrain. After taking care of my bathroom needs I took a moment to wash my face and rub myself down with a wet cloth, then slipped on my underwear and jerked open the door. "Perhaps if she had told me last night—"

"She didn't know until this morning. One of the council members called to let her know they wouldn't be attending the party—he's going on vacation and leaving tonight, so she wanted to get it handled before he took off."

Grabbing the pants I slid them on, only to groan when they got stuck around my hips. "See? I told you—they won't fit."

"What the hell are they doing at Saint Basil's—giving you steroids or something? We were almost the same size before." Her dark eyes narrowed with suspicion as she reached out, poking my arm. "And you weren't this muscular, either."

"Don't be stupid—I just hit another growth spurt."

"Bullshit—"

"I did! Mama thinks it's because I was a late bloomer." I didn't mention the fact it had worried my mother immensely; both of my sisters had starter their periods early, but mine hadn't hit until I was fifteen. She'd been on the verge of taking me to the doctor, convinced something was wrong until Yeva spoke up and told her to stop fretting—that nature was a random thing; she'd been almost sixteen when hers had hit, which set mama's mind at ease. I think that was the first time my grandmother suspected that I shared her gift, though unlike her, I don't see it as a blessing from above—to me it's a horrible, horrible curse.

I finally got the pants up and fastened—but they were so tight I could barely breathe. The shirt and jacket were at least a little better; they were snug across my shoulders and hit above my wrists, but it wasn't terribly noticeable. Sinking down on the side of the bed to shove my feet into the boots, I tried to ignore the disturbing sound of protest the seams of the pants made when I moved. "I swear before God above if these pants rip in front of everyone I will kill you Roza."

"They'll be fine—besides, it won't take very long then you can come home and change."

"Ha! You're assuming I can actually make it out the door." I stood up, wincing as my toes curled against the front of the boots. "I'm going to be hobbling worse than Yeva does."

"That won't matter—trust me, they're not going to be paying any attention when you walk in. Just stand up as straight as you can when you're talking to them and look them all in the eye at least once or twice."

My stomach lurched at the thought of speaking in front of an audience, taking my mind off my already aching feet. "I don't know if I can do this..."

It came out a whisper, but she heard it and shot me a reassuring smile as she herded me towards the door. "Sure you can—and if looking them in the face is too hard, just focus on the bridge of their noses... you know—right between their eyes. That's what Lissa use to do until she got comfortable talking in public. Now come on—we don't have time to screw around with hair and makeup. Pull it up in a ponytail and that'll have to do."

I scraped my hair back as we walked, using the tie she handed me. There were a few strands of hair attached to it the same color as my own which meant it must be one of my brother's that she carried in case he needed it. I secured my tangled mess of hair low at the base of my neck—hopefully hiding any sign that the blazer seams were pulled taut across my back. "How long will this take?"

"Depends. She's gonna talk about a couple other things first so you can see how it works. We're meeting her at her office first so she can go over things with you."

I was relieved to see a car idling at the curb waiting for use; there was no way I'd be able to walk all over court in her boots without getting painful blisters. It was the same vehicle that picked us up at the airport, still holding the faintest trace of Abe's spicy, exotic smelling cologne. "Is your father coming too?"

"Nah." She slumped down in the seat, gazing out the window, scowling in irritation that we hadn't begun to move. "He's gonna be finalizing crap for the party all day with Sparky so he said we could use it this morning. I don't know if I like the two of them spending so much time together—just seems like trouble in the making. Anyway this is better than anything the motor pool would have given us. They seem to share your brother's strange obsession with Hondas."

We lapsed into silence as the car made its way through the narrow, twisting streets. It was a short trip, but I spent every minute of it fretting. I like to think of myself as outgoing, but I'm not the type of person who enjoys speaking in front of a group; in fact, I go out of my way to avoid it at all costs—to the point of purposefully getting in trouble in class so I'd be sent out for discipline on the days my instructors announce we'll be taking turns reading aloud from our text books. The more I thought about talking to the Council, the more nauseated I got.

The car pulled over to drop us off beside the large stone building that housed Lissa's office; as we climbed out of the backseat and hurried up the steps, Roza glanced over at me, her forehead wrinkled with concern. "You're looking a little green... you're not gonna puke, are you?"

"That... is a very real possibility." I swallowed once, then again, extremely glad I hadn't eaten yet. "I don't like talking in front of people—I never have."

"Just pretend its a party and you're the center of attention." she made a left as the wide central corridor branched off into several different directions, turning down a long narrow hallway that had several guardians lining both sides, standing at attention. "I seem to recall you enjoyed that."

"Very funny—I don't understand why you can't just tell them what I said."

"Because that is considered hearsay. You've been there and witnessed it first hand—I haven't." She pushed open a set of double doors, leading me into an opulently furnished waiting room. A Moroi woman in her late thirties sat behind a small desk at the far wall near another set of doors; two guardians wearing black blazers with the Dragomir family crest embroidered on the right lapel of their jackets stood on either side of the doors, watching us intently. Roza noticed me studying them and smiled,. " They're part of the Royal Guard. The former queen had them wear red buttons on their collars, but Lissa thought they deserved a little more recognition."

"Guardian Hathaway—and...?" The secretary set down her file, fixing her steely gray eyes on me.

"Viktoria Belikova." I supplied, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze.

"You can go right in... she's expecting you."

"Of course she is—she's the one who sent me to get her." Rolling her eyes, Roza nodded to the guardians, pushing open the door that led to Lissa's inner sanctum and waving me inside. As I passed she dropped her voice to a whisper, her lips twitching up in amusement. "Just ignore her, she's an uptight bitch."

"Rose! I heard that—behave!"

For the first time since meeting her, Lissa actually looked the way I'd expected a queen to look—well... except for the mock scowl she was shooting at her best friend. Her pale hair was twisted up in an elaborate up do, with a delicate looking tiara of emeralds and diamonds nested amidst the curls. Instead of the jeans I'd grown accustomed to seeing her in, today she was wearing a beautiful pale sheath dress in a shade of jade green that was almost the same color as her eyes. I was also pleased to note that she was still wearing Oksa's present—the pendant lay against her skin a few inches above the dresses neckline.

"You look... amazing. Very... Queen-like." I blushed at how stupid I sounded, but in truth I was feeling a little in awe of her.

"Thank you Vika. I'm sorry to spring this on you at the last minute but when Alexander said he was leaving town I knew it couldn't wait. I want to get the ball rolling immediately which means it has to be resolved before he leaves Court." She came around the desk and took my hand, studying my face. "You don't look so good... are you feeling ill?"

"It's nerves... I don't like public speaking." Even now I could feel my palm grow clammy in her hand.

"Well... I bet I can help with that. Rose?"

"Lissa... I don't think you should—"

"Stop worrying! It won't take much." She held out her hand, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

Sighing, Roza pulled a ring out of her pocket, frowning as she handed it over." Might not work—it's already charmed."

"Charmed to heal—and she feels sick, so that will help. I'm just going to add a hint of compulsion to soothe her nerves and make her feel confident."

Lissa—don't! I'll be fine, there's no need—"

My voice trailed off—I could tell that it was already too late for me to stop her. It was something I'd only noticed recently—the more frequently my visions came, the stronger my senses grew too. My skin began to crawl—like an army of tiny ants were marching across it—and the air pressure around us seemed to fluctuate as well, growing heavier with each second that passed; it was the same feeling I'd gotten when Oksana pulled Spirit to heal a cut on my hand... and the same feeling I'd gotten the day before when Lissa had tried to get in my head. My reaction to their element came and went—the healing worked fine, and I could feel the calming sensations... but yet their compulsion seemed to have no effect on me. It made me wonder how long it would last—as I aged and the sight grew stronger, would it eventually render me immune to the element entirely? If my grandmother took sick while we were here, could Lissa heal her, or would an attempt be completely in vain?

A surge of guilt hit me at her using her power to help me; I knew whatever she was doing to the ring would do me absolutely no good. Biting my lip I took the ring, faking a sigh of relief as it slid on my finger; I felt nothing at all other than the touch of cool metal against my skin, but I'd do my best to hide that fact away and act completely calm. "Thank you—I appreciate it... but you shouldn't have—"

"I get enough of that from her, don't you start it too." She waved off my concerns, perching herself on the arm of one of the chairs that sat facing her large desk. "I wanted to take a few minutes to let you know what to expect. There's a lot of pomp and ceremony that's absolutely ridiculous, but some things are custom and can't be changed. The herald will call the meeting to order and then I will begin the session. We'll be discussing two items from our last meeting and voting on their outcome, then that's when I'll bring up the issue at Saint Basil's. I'll tell them we have someone with firsthand knowledge to provide us with insight and introduce you—that's when you'll come forward to address them."

I nodded, trying to ignore the way my stomach was doing somersaults at the thought of being the focal point of the Council's attention. "And that's it?"

"They may have a few questions—just answer them honestly, with as much information as you can." She glanced down at her watch, frowning. "I have a bit more to do here before we start. I'll have someone escort you over so you can get in before it gets too crowded. It fills up pretty fast when we have open sessions."

"But—I thought it would just be you and the members of the Council?"

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "No, I'm afraid not. Even a meeting called at the last minute will have an audience—the Council members will have alerted their families, wanting them to witness what happens and to support them if need be."

I tried to swallow past the lump forming in my throat as she crossed back over to her desk and picked up the phone, asking for a guardians to be sent in. While we waited I focused on my breathing, mentally counting to a hundred in my mind while Roza and Lissa bickered good naturedly over the movie we'd watched together. The entire time Lissa flipped through a file, making notes and crossing out things; it amazed me how she could be so focused on her work but never miss a beat of the conversation.

A wave of relief washed over me when there was a knock at the door my escort entered; I made a hasty exit, finally able to let the mask of feigned calm I was wearing fade away. The man didn't bother to introduce himself and barely even glanced at me; in fact he didn't at all as we walked the two blocks to the government building—not even when I tried to make polite conversation. His demeanor made me wonder if he thought escorting me was beneath him.

"Sir—if you could please slow down... I'm having trouble keeping up."

He didn't even pause—in fact I would swear he sped up a little. I cursed him under my breath in Russian as I struggled to match his pace, then added in a few choice words towards Roza and her stupid boots; glaring at the back of his head I was tempted to ask if he was this rude to everyone or was his superior attitude limited to me, but I refrained. There was a bright side to the situation, however—I was so irritated that I forgot about my nerves, right up until we reached the room in which the meeting would take place.

The decor hit me first—so ostentatious it was almost gaudy; it seemed overdone and too elaborate for something as simple as a meeting place. At one end of the room there was a raised dais holding a large table with carved embellishments representing each of the Royal families; there were thirteen plush, ornate looking chairs spaced evenly along it's length. At the foot of the stairs leading up to the dais was a door through which I assumed the Council would enter, and beside that a small, spindly looking desk stacked with pads of paper and pens. As I watched a young Moroi woman gathered the items up and climbed the steps, preparing the table for what was to come.

The other side of the room was full padded chairs too—there was a scattering of Moroi seated, talking amongst themselves like it was some kind of social outing and not a meeting at all. There were several empty seats available but I wanted one close up—the less distance I had to walk meant the less likely I was to trip and embarrass myself in front of the room full of strangers. I made my way over to the last free seat in the front row. only to be stopped by the woman seated next to it, who placed her arm over the chair and glared at me with eyes full of scorn.

"Are you new? Dhampirs stand at the back."

I glanced at the back of the room, noticing for the first time a number of guardians lining the wall. "I am not a guardian, madam."

"Did I say guardians—or did I say dhampirs?" She said the word like it left a foul taste on her tongue, practically sneering at me.

My hands clenched in anger at her attitude—but still I tried to remain calm. " I really don't care what you said—"

"Is there a problem here?"

I glanced up to see the Moroi who'd been preparing the room standing a few feet away, glancing between us with a look of concern on her face.

"I am supposed to speak today, but this... woman refuses to let me sit." I made the word as unpleasant sounding as she had made the word dhampir, but I smiled sweetly as I said it.

"Oh, you're Novice Belikova? I saw your name on the schedule. I tell you what... why don't you sit at my desk—I'm sure the atmosphere will be much more pleasant and I won't be sitting down once the meeting starts." She shot a reproachful look at the woman who was glaring at me. "She's a guest of the Queen so you'd best mind your manners Marcella."

The chastising tone in her voice didn't faze the woman; she made a dismissive sound, turning in her chair to present me with her back—like I was something contagious and she didn't want to catch my germs. I ignored her, thanking the other woman for her kindness, then settled myself behind her small desk, staring down at my hands. Such rude behavior gave me something to occupy my mind with; I rose to my feet when the Council and Lissa entered, but once the herald called the meeting to order, I stopped paying attention. My eyes darted around the room, fastening on the dhampirs; not all of them were guardians, and yet still... they stood. I was the only dhampir seated in the room and the segregation troubled me greatly—perhaps because I'd never been exposed to it so blatantly before; at Saint Basil's during formal assemblies the first few rows were reserved for Royals, but the dhampirs were welcome to sit anywhere else they pleased. It was beyond my understanding how anyone could stand for such treatment; I wondered how my brother and his girlfriend could watch our people treated so poorly and simply hold their tongues. Maybe as Guardians they were used to it—since they have to stand and watch over their charges all day long, but even so... it didn't seem fair.

The longer I sat there and thought about it, the more my temper stirred; I struggled to keep my face expressionless and not give hint to the contemptuous thoughts I was feeling towards the men and women I would soon face. They had the power to make things right—but as far as they were concerned we were meaningless creatures who lived simply to serve. They saw us as expendable—nothing more than cannon fodder, good for one thing and one thing alone—to keep their precious Royal bloodlines safe and secure, often at the cost of our lives. It wasn't a good time for me to be thinking such things; I could feel the rebellious streak in me that had lay dormant since my brother came home slowly stirring to life, and that was definitely not a good thing. Despite my anger, I didn't want to humiliate my brother or dishonor my family name.

"Novice Belikova? You have the floor."

I glanced up, startled, my cheeks blushing bright red; it was obvious from the concerned look on Lissa's face that it wasn't the first time she'd called me. Standing I made my way to the center of the room, trying to center my thoughts on the task that was before me—everything else could wait.

"My name is Viktoria Belikova, and I am a senior novice at Saint Basil's Academy in Russia. The Queen has asked me to speak today about the problem I have witnessed at my school. It is a problem that affects us all... Moroi and dhampir alike—but it is a problem that the members of this council can easily fix." My voice was thin and weak, so I took a deep breath, refusing to let my nerves reawaken; I ignored my racing heart and sent up a silent prayer that I'd find the right words to say.

"Here in America, you are very, very blessed. You have the sanctuary of Court to reside in, or you can afford to ward your homes and communities and have them properly guarded. That is not the case in my homeland—and as a result, many lives are lost every day. We are not as fortunate as you are, and there are more Strigoi in Russia than there are here in the States. They band together, attacking the furthest settlements, killing the few men and women who stay on to protect the villages. Saint Basil's is full of the casualties of these attacks—orphans who have lost their parents and essentially become wards of the Crown when no family members step forward to claim them. These students live there year round without anyone providing for them—and as a result their clothing is worn and badly in need of repair. They do not have access to all the equipment needed to train, and they have no form of allowance to provide them any small necessities."

"I don't see what this has to do with us." An older Moroi man with silvery hair gave me a dismissive look, shuffled the papers before him.

"It has everything to do with you, sir, and with every other Royal that is residing here at Court. You attend lavish banquets where food goes to waste. You have the means to support yourselves, and yet you rely on the Crown to provide housing and cover the expenses of running them. That money should be going to help the ones that really need it—the children you've abandoned and refuse to acknowledge or support."

"I beg your pardon! I have no—"

"The girl is right." A dark haired woman spoke up, silencing the man with a glance. "My niece is at Saint Basil's and I have seen these things, but I was unaware the children were wards of the Court and not being cared for. I thought perhaps their families just didn't have the means to support them."

"Evette—we cannot be responsible for every child orphaned by an attack. It would bankrupt our government within a year." He turned back towards me, shaking his head. "As for the Crown supporting us—we pay taxes and dues you don't know of young lady, so it would be best if you don't reference things that don't concern you."

"When Ekaterina Zeklos was Queen the children were provided for. She set up a Trust for their clothing and their school materials, as well as a small allowance—and all the Royal families were required to contribute. What happened to that money, Prince Zeklos?"

I hadn't known my grandmother was there until her voice rang out from the back of the room. She moved up beside me, staring the man down with a furious look on her face. "The Queen's fund stipulated that all were to be provided for—Moroi and dhampir alike. Now it is just the Moroi who receive the courts aid... and we want to know where that money has gone. Our children are training to die to protect you—but yet you hold back the means to help them live."

"I agree. I think we would all like to know the same thing. I know for certain that I've been paying into that Trust yearly—aren't you the executor, Clarence?" The woman's eyes were icy, her face expressing her obvious suspicions.

"I'd have to check my records... I am almost positive Queen Tatiana dissolved that Trust years ago—and I assure you I haven't received any kind of documentation on it or form of notification on deposits since then."

"You aren't going to blame this on Tatiana—I was there when she and Priscilla discussed setting up a similar fund here in the states. She was concerned about the children—she wanted to make sure they had everything they needed to become the best guardians they could be—for all our sakes. Would you want your family protected by a guardian that hadn't been properly trained because they didn't have access to the equipment they needed? If there's money missing then your family is responsible for replacing it—and we owe our thanks to this woman for bringing it to our attention." The dark haired man turned his eyes to my grandmother, nodding respectfully at her. " What is your name, please?"

My grandmother stood even straighter, her head held high—and in that moment, it was easy to forget her age and her small stature; her voice was so full of confidence that she seemed as large and powerful as my brother. "My name is Yeva Anastasia Belikova, Prince Ivashkov. Former Guardian to Vasily Zeklos. One time friend and confidant to Princess Ekaterina Zeklos who later became a most beloved Queen. Even after she took her throne we corresponded—I still have her letters to back up my claims."

Clarence Zeklos' eyes widened, his cheeks turning red—and I suddenly realized where the money had disappeared to. He'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, no two ways about it. "I will look into the matter and if there is a discrepancy... it will be rectified. Thank you for bringing it to our attention ladies."

Lissa narrowed her eyes at him, shaking her head. "No—I think it's best that someone else handle this matter. Rufus, I assume you and Alexander have access to Tatiana and Priscilla's personal papers and that sort of thing?"

"I have a few things—but she left the bulk of her personal belongings to Adrian. God only knows what he's done with them—or if he'll even remember receiving them at all." Prince Ivashkov shook his head, his eyes darting behind Lissa to wall at her back—where Roza stood—and for the life of me I couldn't understand the expression on his face; it was almost accusatory, as if it were her fault the papers might be missing. Neither could I understand the way hairs on my arm prickled—a warning that something important was taking place, even if I didn't understand what it might be.

"Alright, I'll ask him to try and find them—I think it would be best if you, Alexander and... Ariana took over the trust. We'll have the Court attorneys handle the necessary paper work and reconvene when he returns from his trip—if that's acceptable to everyone?" Her green eyes were focused on the Zeklos Prince, as if daring him to object. He looked like he was thinking about it, but then he nodded his head. "Very good. Then I believe you are done here ladies—thank you very much for coming today ladies. You are free to go."

Yeva bowed, deeply at the waist, so I copied her actions, doing the same. As I straightened up I noticed the dark haired woman watching me closely. "Miss Belikova... you are related to Guardian Belikov, I assume?"

"Yes Madam, I am his youngest sister."

"My niece will need a guardian soon... and I like that you speak your mind. It's important to stand up for those who are in need. I will be putting in a bid for your service on her behalf upon your graduation." She nodded at me, a faint smile turning up the corner of her thin lips. "Enjoy your stay at court. I hope we'll see you again soon."

I nodded politely, returning her smile, though I knew it would never come to pass. I would not serve—it was forbidden, and in truth I had no desire to spend my life like Roza, trailing after a charge. I moved to turn and follow my grandmother, but at that moment, my head began to ache, the pressure gradually increasing with each beat of my heart; I moved without consciously meaning to, spinning back around to face the Council members—and before I knew it I was speaking, though my voice sounded strangely hollow and far away. "Madam—may I ask... when you look around this room... what do you see?"

She glanced up from the papers in front of her, her blue eyes flicking around the room. "I'm not quite sure what you mean... I see the Queen and my fellow Council members and the audience I suppose."

"Nothing more?" I moved a few steps closer, my eyes intent on her face.

"No... I... why?"

"When I look around this room I see the people who protect you... who give their lives in support of the Moroi... being treated like lesser beings. Even the elderly are forced to stand when there are empty chairs that could seat them. When dhampirs are shown a modicum of respect and admiration for their sacrifices... that is when I will willingly serve and accept a charge. Until that time I must respectfully decline any requests that come my way, even when it is made by such an honorable noblewoman as yourself. I beg you think on what I say, because it will shape the future."

The silence following my statement was heavy and so filled with tension that it could have been sliced with a knife; my grandmother reached out, grabbing my arm, but I refused to be budged—not averting my eyes from the Princess I'd addressed. I watched as her icy eyes assessed me, slowly filling with a look of admiration the likes of which I'd never seen before. They flicked to the back of the room again—then she slowly nodded her head.

"Thank you for your candor, Novice Belikova. I think I'd like to discuss the things you see during your visit among us in greater detail before you return to school—perhaps you will join me for lunch next week? I'll have my secretary set something up."

It would be my pleasure, Madam." I bowed—far more deeply than I had the first time, then finally acknowledged my grandmother tugging at me, following her out of the room. As the large wooden doors closed behind us I faltered, a soft sound of pain escaped me; the pressure in my head was so great I could barely see. There were horrifying things flashing through my mind—images of blood and death that couldn't be unseen. The dark haired woman's body was laid out before me, her life's blood draining away from the gaping wound at her throat; I watched as her beautiful blue eyes dulled, gaze locked on eternity. "Make it stop... please... Grandmother... help me..."

"Take this—right now."

She thrust something into my hands and almost immediately I felt relief; the images faded away as the pain slowly began to subside. The object felt smooth and cool in my palm, so I pressed it against my forehead, sighing in relief as the ache completely vanished. "What is it?"

"It doesn't matter. Oksa made it for me—before she came... I simply suffered." Her voice was full of worry as she gently stroked my cheek. "I thought you'd only received the dreams...when did they start to come to you like this?"

"This is the first...no," I corrected myself, "yesterday the names—they came to me, but there wasn't any pain."

"What did you see granddaughter?"

I opened my eyes, shocked to find the image had faded away so completely that I could barely recall it. "I'm not sure... something about that dark haired woman... but it's… it's gone."

"Ahhh. That is a good thing. It means your dreams will be the stronger of the two—it is the opposite for me. You will have less waking visions, so it will be easier to hide away." She shook her head. "I don't know why it shames you, Vika... it is a great, blessed gift."

"I don't want it... I just want to be normal. Like Roza." I handed her back the talisman, worried over my actions in the meeting. Would someone notice that I hadn't been all there—or would they simply chalk it up to my being outspoken and uncouth?

"Roza—is not normal. She is different, and your brother is too. The Spirit... it touched them. Far too much for far too long" She shoved the item in her pocket, then glanced over at me, shaking her head. "I will ask my new friend to make one for you, but it must be blessed by Spirit."

"No—Lissa can't do it. She isn't strong enough and—"

"The tom cat will do it—I have seen it. Come, I am hungry."

"Tom cat? Grandmother, I think Roza is right. You speak in riddles purposefully at times, don't you?"

"That is for me to know, kotyonok. Now tell me... think very hard... what did you see in the Council chamber?"

I stared at her, puzzled by her question. "The Council and all the people watching—and the dhampirs all having to stand. Was I too outspoken grandmother?"

"No, you were perfect—and it has faded away, just as I had hoped." She patted my cheek again, then threaded her arm through mine, heading down the hallway and out into the cool evening air, mumbling softly under her breath. "Some aren't meant to carry the burden I suppose."

"What does that mean?" I looked down at her frowning, feeling a surge of worry at not understanding her words.

"It means that you have a very different path to walk than most, kotyonok—and soon your feet will be on it. I think perhaps you will serve... though a very different master than the kind I had… and in a very different manner."

"Do you mean that I should accept that woman's offer?"

"Her niece will not be the one. It will be as it was in the old days… two joining together that make a stronger whole. Stop questioning me, I can say nothing more and—"

"Novice Belikova?"

I turned to see a young fair haired guardian hurrying to catch up. "Yes?"

"Guardian Hathaway asked me to tell you that she'll meet you in the cafe two blocks down as soon as the session is dismissed."

I couldn't help but smile at the sound of his voice—his accent was familiar as my own and nearly as thick. "Thank you sir. May I inquire what area you call home?"

"Tomsk, Miss Belikova. I attended Saint Basil's like you—I was one of the students you described to the council... the ones who have families but are still in need. On behalf of my family, I thank you."

"I need no thanks—I simply told the truth. It is time the Royals stepped up to help those in need."

"Regardless—should you need anything during your stay, please do not hesitate to ask. I am Feliks Anosov."

He held out his hand in introduction; when I gently grasp it to shake it he bowed his head, pressing his lips against it softly, not dropping his eyes from my face. The appreciative look in his eyes made my cheeks flush with color—the blush increasing even more when he moved a step closer, lowering his voice. "I hope to get to know more about you during your stay—Guardian Belikov has been keeping secrets. He never mentioned having such a beautiful sister stashed away at home."

My grandmother made a dismissive snort that drew his blue eyes away from mine. "Or such a wise grandmother."

"He has apparently been keeping may secrets of late—he failed to mention the fact that his fellow guardians spout bullshit so deep one could drown in it. Come Viktoria—we must be off." She gave him a look of disapproval, tugging my arm to free my hand from the young dhampir's grip. "You have delivered your message boy—you may run along now."

"Grandmother! I am so sorry... she isn't usually like this." I apologized, stunned by her rudeness as he took a large step back.

"Lying is a sin, granddaughter—I am always like this and you know it. Now are you coming or should I call your brother to help me make you listen?"

At the mention of my brother the guardian's demeanor changed; the flirtatious look in his eye vanished as he took another step back. " I meant no disrespect Mrs. Belikova—"

"It is Miss Belikova—I have had no husband and do not need one—my name is my own." Yeva stepped between the two of us, tilting her head back to stare up at his face. "If you meant no disrespect then you shouldn't have acted as you did. There is a proper way to compliment a young lady—and it is not by undressing her with your eyes when she is speaking to the Royal council!"

His eyes dropped to the sidewalk as he retreated another step. "My apologies. If you will excuse me—I must return to my duties."

She grabbed my arm again, practically dragging me down the sidewalk, mumbling under her breath about men who couldn't control their eyes. "Grandmother! That was very rude!"

"I agree. No man should stare at a woman that way unless she has made it clear his advances are welcomed—especially not in a formal public setting."

"That's not what I meant! Did you ever stop to think that I might have found him handsome? If you keep this up I'll never meet anyone—and I'd like to have someone to spend time with while I'm here." I jerked my arm free, trying not to pout; I had a hard enough time getting them to treat me like an adult—behaving like a child would only strengthen their belief that I still needed supervision.

"That's what you want? To be some mans plaything for a few weeks and then be sent on your way? If so then by all means go chase after him—but don't come to me crying when he uses you and then forgets your name. You are meant for better Viktoria Belikova—do not sell yourself short."

"That's not what I—"

"Enough! The discussion is over. I said I am hungry child—are you trying to starve me into an early grave?"

"I need to stop off and change first. My feet hurt and—"

"Ridiculous. Look—we are already here. We should go all the way to your apartment, just to come back again? I will go no further—do what you must."

I bit back a sound of frustration; I loved my grandmother and respected her immensely, but Roza was right about one thing—sometimes she could drive a person to their breaking point. I followed her into the crowded cafe, steering her towards a free table; the line was long and I knew what she liked, so there was no point in having her stand with me and risk having her joints and legs pain her later when she was trying to sleep. Shifting from one foot to the other in hopes of relieving the pressure on my feet, I was studying the menu, trying to decide what would best when a hand closed around my arm in an iron grip, jerking me out of line.

"Excuse me!"

"What the hell was that shit you pulled in there?" Roza was furious, her eyes almost black with rage.

I stared at her, taken aback, not sure why she was so angry. "What do you mean? I—"

"You were supposed to talk about one thing. One. Thing. Saint Basil's and what you saw there. That's it! Your little stunt just undid everything Lissa's spent months trying to accomplish!"

"I saw a problem and I—"

"Made threats! Against the heads of the Royal families!"

" I did not! I—"

"That's how they see it. A dhampir threatening not to serve if her demands aren't met. One who's statement might encourage others to do the same! Lissa has been trying to—"

"Well she's not trying hard enough!" My temper flared and I snapped back at her, getting right up in her face. "You saw that room! All of our people being forced to stand—even my grandmother, at her age!"

"It takes time! Even a queen has limits Viktoria—she has to win over the majority of the council and today you erased everything she's been busting her ass to achieve! Jesus—and they say I don't think before speaking!"

"Rose!" I was unaware my brother was there witnessing our fight until he stepped forward grabbing her arm. "Stop. You need to calm down."

She jerked her arm free, scowling up at him before turning her anger back on me. "You don't think I have a hard time keeping quiet about that shit? I wanna explode every time I see it—but I don't because I see how hard she's working to get equal rights for everyone. She's trying to get us a fucking vote Viktoria—and you just torpedoed her out of the water. Good fucking job."

I froze, the enormity of what she was saying slamming into me like a ton of bricks. "I'm sorry... I didn't know... and I... I'm not sure why I spoke up. I kept telling myself to hold my tongue, but once I got up there and that woman said what she did... it just slipped out. Did I really ruin everything?"

My apology seemed to appease her—at least a little. Some of the fire went out of her eyes and she lowered her voice, leaning against Dimitri. "It's going to take a whole lot of double talk and ass kissing to smooth things over. Lissa's not upset with you... she was just taken by surprise. For someone who doesn't like public speaking you got awfully mouthy in there." She looked down at her feet, sighing deeply. "I'm sorry too... it just struck a nerve. I guess hearing you say all the things I've been wanting to say... it pissed me off."

"Maybe... I can fix it. Talk to them at the party and explain I was just speaking for myself and what I believe. Yeva could accompany me... tell them her views about women going into service. It might make them understand a little better."

"Maybe... I'll ask Lissa what she thinks—and Abe. He's an evil mastermind when it comes to political crap." She looked around, frowning, stretching up on her toes to see over a crowd of Moroi that had just come in the door. "Where is Yeva anyway? Did you lose her?"

"No she's right over—" I looked over at the table where I'd left my grandmother, surprised to see she'd been joined by a Moroi woman and was happily sharing a plate with her, chatting away. "there. Who is that woman?"

Roza glanced in the direction I was pointing, letting out a sound of irritation. "Shit. That's Rhonda—the fortune teller. Apparently they hit it off yesterday. God only knows what kind of evil juju they'll be conjuring up."

"My grandmother doesn't practice Voodoo Rose—and neither does Rhonda." Dimitri gave her an amused smile, then winked at me before adding, "you should be much more worried about old gypsy folk curses from those two."

"That's just great—thanks for setting my mind at ease." She rolled her eyes, resting her head against his arm—and again I felt another sharp pang of loneliness, slowly making itself known. "If we're not eating could one of you two go get her? I'd rather not get caught between the two of them—there's only so many obscure predictions I can handle in one week."

"I'll go—you two should get some food. You shouldn't go without eating just because I lost my appetite."

We parted, the two of them moving towards the counter while I weaved my way through the tables, heading for my grandmother and her new friend. "Grandmother—"

"You!" The Moroi woman dropped her fork with a clatter, staring at me like she'd seen a ghost. "I've seen you before!"

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure she was addressing me, arching a brow in confusion. "Me? No, I'm sorry... we've never—"

"No—I mean I've seen you. When I was doing a reading last week for—"

"Rhosha! What you saw is between the spirits and your client." My grandmother cut her off, laying a hand on her arm. Her dark eyes held a hint of warning that made the other woman nod her head. "To speak of these things would influence the outcome. You know this."

"You're right... I'm sorry. It was just a shock. I've never had that happen to me before." She held out her hand for me to shake and I took it, my curiosity aroused and wondering what she'd seen. "I'm Rhonda. Your grandmother has agreed to teach me a few things while she is here—you're very lucky to have someone so wise guide you, my dear."

"Yes, I am... but if I was in your vision surely you could tell me—"

"She cannot. Now run along. I am going to spend the afternoon with her. Go find someone else to occupy your time—and if your brother argues, tell him to come talk to me." Yeva winked, then a sly smile spread across her face. "But also tell him I said if he disturbs me I will be very, very angry."

I nodded, not bothering to argue; saying my goodbyes I returned to my brother and Roza who were waiting by the door with to go cartons in their hands. "She said she is staying. They apparently have plans."

"Probably world domination. Your grandma might look like a frail lady, but I have a feeling she can hold her own." Roza shoved open the door, holding it so we could pass through.

"She can," my brother said wryly, "and she doesn't fight fair." He reached down, taking her hand, pulling her closer to his side. "So you should be on your best behavior."

I glanced down at their entwined hands, realizing that after the day I'd had, the last thing I wanted to do was be around people in love. "You know what? I just need a little time to myself. You two go on and I'll catch up with you later. Yeva said to tell you it was okay."

My brother frowned, shaking his head. "I don't want you wandering off all alone—you've only been here a few days, you don't know your way around yet."

"And when will I have been here long enough to have a little freedom Dimitri? The day before we leave? I am so tired of everyone treating me like some stupid little kid! Ever since we arrived I've been rushed from place to place—ordered what to do with no regard for how I felt. Do you know how hard it was for me to stand up in front of those men and women and talk off the top of my head? No one warned me... I wasn't given time to prepare. I was woken from a sound sleep and shoved into clothes and hustled out the door before I was even fully awake! Then I had harsh words with Yeva—and now the fight with Roza… it seems like every time I turn around today something else happens to knock me off my feet! I cannot take this frantic pace… it is just too much!" I bit my lip, realizing I was on the verge of shouting—something that would be extremely embarrassing for all of us since we were standing out in the open for anyone to see. "Dimka... I just need some time to unwind—the way I use to do, remember?"

"There's no meadow here for you to hide away in kotyonok. No wildflowers to gather and weave into your hair." His face softened, his large hand reaching out to gently cup my cheek.

"I just want to be outside for a while. Alone—so I can think."

He studied me in silence for a moment, his brow wrinkling, then slowly nodded his head. "One hour—no more. There are things planned for this afternoon—and I'm sorry, but you cannot be late. When it is time, one of us will come collect you. " He pulled a book out of the pocket of his coat, removing a scrap of paper that was tucked away between the pages to mark his place. "There is a small garden close to the building where you are staying—it should be secluded enough for your purpose. I will draw you a map so you don't get lost—but Vika, please do not wander off and make us hunt you down."

"I'll stay right where you tell me—I promise." I watched him sketch out the drawing, patiently listening as he gave me extremely detailed directions to the spot he had in mind. I even went so far as to repeat them back word for word so he would know that I'd been listening then I raised up on my tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, but it still wasn't enough—he had to bend down to meet me halfway. "Thank you Dimka. I will see you soon."

"I hope you find the peace you need, sister. And Vika... I am very, very proud of you. You may not have had time to prepare, but you did an excellent job."

"But... you weren't there... how do you know what I said?"

His lips twitched but his face remained stoic, a dark brow raising as he looked down at me. "I have my ways."

"Oh cut the crap!" Roza elbowed him in the side, rolling her eyes. "He asked me to call him when it was your turn to talk so he could hear it over the phone."

"You'll pay for that, Roza. I have to have some secrets from her, otherwise she will stop looking up to me."

"Dimitri... everyone looks up to you—they can't help it. I mean... you're a giant."

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her, ducking his head down to whisper something that made her bury her face in his chest as her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink.

I watched for a moment as he coaxed her out of what remained of her prickly mood , amazed that a few sweet words and kisses could do so much, then I slowly backed away, shaking my head and making a noise of disgust. "I don't even want to know. I am going now—there is only so much I can take of seeing you two acting like lovebirds before I get sick." They didn't look up—I'd even go far as to bet that neither one of them even heard me. They were so wrapped up in each other they didn't even notice when I turned and walked away, leaving them alone in their little cocoon of happiness.

It wasn't difficult to find the spot I was looking for—Dimka's instructions had been so precise there had been no chance of getting lost—but as I stared up at the tall hedge he had used as a landmark, I wondered exactly how I was supposed to enter it since there was no entrance in sight and he didn't mention having to search for one. I trailed my fingers along its leaves as walked around the outside searching for an opening; the idea of having somewhere to hide away that was almost inaccessible... it awoke the little girl I used to be, sending a shiver of excitement down my spine. I finally found a break in the greenery, so narrow that the branches snagged my hair as I entered—but I was too delighted by the small oasis in front of me to even take time to try and untangle it. Jerking my head to free myself, I let my eyes dart around the garden, anxious to explore. It wasn't very big—just a few raised beds of flowers lining the inside of the hedge, circling a large statue and stone bench—but for me it was just what I needed, the perfect place to spend an hour of quiet contemplation. As curious as I was to examine everything my new sanctuary had to offer, there was something I had to do first. I crossed to the bench, sinking down to yank off Roza's accursed small boots—sighing with relief at finally being able to uncurl my poor aching toes.

Leaning back, I stretched my legs out in front of me; My eyes drifted closed as I just sat and enjoyed the silence for a while. The tall hedge muffled the sound coming from the busy area nearby, so I could finally actually have some quiet time to myself without someone pounding at the door or Mama calling to check up on me. I told myself I would have to remember to thank my brother for suggesting such a perfect place—and for not arguing with me when I demanded some time away. If it had been one of my sisters they would have hounded me with questions or insisted upon accompanying me—but that was not Dimitri's way. He understood my need to be alone at times, perhaps because he felt it just as strongly as I did. Thinking about his silent acceptance and the way he'd referenced the meadow, my mind inevitably began drifting, conjuring up memories of the past.

When I was a very small girl—just barely old enough to toddle about on my own, I could always sense the tension that filled our home whenever our father came to visit; it made me irritable and fussy—which was never a good thing to be in his presence. My father often said that children should be seen and never heard—and he had no qualms about using violence to silence a child he thought was misbehaving; that was something my older siblings knew far, far too well. Whenever I began to act up, my brother would always scoop me up—immediately hurrying to the back door with my sisters following close behind. The four of us would cross the yard, weaving our way through a small strand of trees to the safety of the meadow. It was a place where we could run and play, being as loud as we wanted—and it was far enough from the house that the sound didn't carry, so we didn't need to fear a slap to remind us of our place.

My brother would watch over us, his long, lean body stretched out beneath a tree; if you glanced at him you would imagine he was totally immersed in his book, oblivious to the world around him—but you would be mistaken. If you watched him for long enough you would notice the way his dark eyes flicked up from the page every few minutes, darting around the clearing—always alert—looking for signs of danger. That wasn't the case for the rest of us; Karo, Sonya and I were too intent on our task to worry about anything other than avoiding the honey bees that flocked around the wild flowers we gathered. We would sit for hours weaving chains and crowns—sometimes even ganging up on Dimka and adorning him with our creations. He protested but always went along in the end, perhaps to take our minds off what was happening back at home. I didn't understand back then that our meadow time was their way of protecting me. You see—to a small, small child, all that mattered was the fact we were having fun. Eventually when I tired we would head home—with me falling asleep in Dimka's arms along the way. He would carry me up to bed, tucking me in; when I awoke in the morning my father—and the danger he represented—would be long gone.

I think those trips to the meadow were what made me so fond of flowers; as I grew older, the interest didn't fade—even now when I feel anxious or upset, being around them has a calming effect on me. Just sitting in the silence and breathing in the sweet smell of the flowers that surrounded me, I could feel the tension that had been filling me all day slowly fade away. Opening my eyes I let them drift over the beds, mentally comparing them to the ones I'd seen scattered throughout court; the other gardens were lovely, but there was something about them that bothered me immensely. They were all so obviously planned out—each flower planted in a precise, specific place, according to someone's master plan. Immaculately maintained and creatively designed, they were almost too perfect, their organization and structure somehow detracting from the natural beauty of the flowers. The little garden... was different. The flowers were laid out with no particular scheme, as if the gardeners had simply stuck what they wanted wherever the mood struck them to plant it; it was wild and unpredictable—like nature itself—and because of that, I thought it was one of the most beautiful gardens I had ever seen.

In addition to the haphazard layout, the plants themselves weren't ones that would normally be grouped together; there were no tiny border plants like petunias or stone moss, or an overabundance of larkspur and ivy like the more formal gardens had. Instead there were creamy white lilies with bright colored sunflowers and blood red roses—more roses than I'd ever seen growing in one place before. The way all the different colored plants were scattered about with no consideration for size or shape reminded me of a post—Impressionist painting I'd once seen at a museum in Saint Petersburg. The splashes of paint had been so vivid that it took a moment to move past the colors and shapes of the stylized petals of the flowers to really see the art for what it was—a man trying to exorcise his demons by spreading them out on canvas.

Wiggling my toes in the thick, lush grass, my eyes turned to the statue; the woman it represented was no one I recognized, though something about her seemed hauntingly familiar. The carved face was stern, yet somehow regal—and as silly as it sounds, I felt like those cold stone eyes were staring straight at me, full of disapproval for removing my shoes in its presence.

"They're too small—they pinch my feet terribly," I whispered—then laughed softly at my own foolishness in talking to a slab of stone. Still... somehow it soothed me the same way the garden did, and I realized that perhaps what I'd needed hadn't been time alone, but rather someone I could talk to freely—without fear of how they might react to the things I had to say. Who better to unload my problems to than an inanimate object that couldn't judge me or argue, telling me I was wrong?

"I hope you don't mind if I share your garden for a while... I needed a place to put my thoughts in order... away from my family." I stood up, moving closer so I could read the inscription on the brass plaque on the base of the statue, wanting to know whom it was that I was talking to.

Dedicated in memory of Queen Tatiana Marina Ivashkov by her beloved nephew

She gave her life for her people out of love, yet was only truly loved by one in return.

I'll look for you in my dreams—so you'd better be there waiting for me, Auntie.

Beneath the dedication sat a small urn filled with flowers that had long since died; most of the petals were so dried out and brittle they had broken off the stems, littering the ground beneath it. Reaching down I pulled them out, setting them to the side. "I think perhaps these should be replaced, don't you agree your Majesty? It would never do to have your nephew come to visit and find that people aren't taking care of your monument properly."

Had I been in one of the other gardens, gathering a small bouquet would be a simple task; they were filled with a variety of different kind of flowers that would make a proper offering. But here there were only the three kinds of blooms, and none of them would really do. I eyed the lilies but couldn't bring myself to touch them; I was raised in a religious home with a strong belief in the symbols of the Church. Lilies represented the Virgin Mother, so to pluck them from their stems would be almost sacrilegious...not to mention I knew the plants were somewhat toxic—and I really didn't want a painful rash on my hands when I went to the Queen's party.

Instead I reached out for one of the fragrant roses; they were the largest I'd ever seen, their blooms so full that it was a wonder their stems had the strength to support them. I looked for the safest place to touch, but as my hand closed around the stem a prickle of unease tickled the back of my neck. I tried my best to ignore it—and as a reward I learned the hard way that it wasn't just their blossoms that were so extraordinary large. I jerked my hand back, cursing at the pain; the thorn imbedded in my palm was huge—almost as long as my thumb—and yet somehow I hadn't noticed it when I'd examined the plant. "Okay... no roses either."

I glanced at the remaining flowers—which seemed almost out of place; unlike the graceful lilies or the beautiful roses, the sunflowers were tall and plain—a strange thing for someone to plant in honor of a Queen. Rising up on spindly stalks, their brightly colored heads were drooping on the stems, but unlike the roses, it wasn't due to their size—it was just the nature of the plant. When the sun came up they would lift their faces, turning towards it and following as it moved across the sky, casting their shadows over all the other plants until it was time to sleep again—and then I realized they were actually the most perfect choice of all. In her own way the former Queen had been like the sun itself, her subjects always looking up to her, basking in her presence the same way the flowers did.

As I gathered a handful, gently snapping the stems the way Mark had taught me in his garden back home, the prickly spines along the main stalk scraped my palms—but compared to the painful, throbbing wound delivered by the rose, this was only a mild irritation. My comparison of the two flowers made me smile as I realized something else—they were a lot like Roza and me. She is very beautiful where I am somewhat plain, and she is much more dangerous too—I may be prickly at times, but I rarely leave a wound.

I returned to the foot of the statue, depositing the flowers I'd gathered in the vase and sank down on my knees to try and arrange them in a way that pleased the eye, but sadly enough, my artistic talent is absolutely slim to none. The end result was a lopsided mess that looked like it had been done by a five year old—but at least I had made an effort. "I am sorry it's not very pretty your Majesty—but it is better than nothing, I think. Besides, I am sure when your nephew comes he will replace them with something far nicer anyway."

"Ahhh—there now, do you see what happens when I leave you to your own devices? You start talking to yourself out of loneliness."

I glanced up, startled, feeling blood rush to my cheeks. "For your information, I happen to be talking to the Queen."

"Impossible, kotyonok—I know she has good hearing, but she is all the way at the spa with Mama and Roza, waiting for me to come fetch you."

"Now you are just being silly Dimka. I didn't mean Lissa at all—I meant Queen Tatiana." I nodded at the statue, grinning. "She is a very good listener—the kind that doesn't have much to say."

Dimitri moved closer, his eyes darting around the small enclosed area before ducking his head down to read the inscription engraved on the plaque. I watched as his eyes narrowed and his full lips pursed, wondering what it was that had upset him, but before I could ask he reached down to take my arm, gently tugging me up to my feet. "Be that as it may—we have to go. Unless you don't want to join the others in primping for tomorrow night?"

"But you said I had an hour! It hasn't been nearly that long!"

"You're quite right—it's been almost two. I gave you a little extra time so you wouldn't have to hear Roza and Lissa bickering back and forth about what beauty treatments everyone should get. Now put on your boots and stop pouting—you know that I can't bear seeing you look unhappy."

I frowned, shoving my feet back in the boots, wondering how I'd lost track of so much time. It seemed impossible that I'd sat daydreaming for that long, but I knew my brother wouldn't lie about it. I followed after him, but as I approached the entrance, I doubled back, scooping up the dead flowers that were still scattered out on the ground, calling back over my shoulder to him. "I don't want to leave a mess behind... it would be disrespectful. Just a minute more, please."

Looking up at the statue, I battled with myself for a moment, wanting to pay a final respect, but at the same time afraid my older brother would find the gesture foolish. My desire to do what I felt was right won out, overriding my sense of pride; I bowed low to the statue, the same way I had to the council, murmuring a soft thank you to the Queen for letting me use her special space, then turned to hurry and catch up with my brother who was watching me with a look of astonishment on his face. "That was very nice of you Vika."

Strangely enough, the heavy sense of disapproval I'd felt when I first looked up at the statue was gone; I glanced back over my shoulder at it, chastising myself for being childish and silly—but still I had the eerie sense that the statue approved of my actions. "What? I should have left them scattered across the grass? Come on Dimka... give me a little credit."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You act as though you never leave a mess, little sister. Remember I was home a short while back—I saw the trail of things you left behind you from the door to your room."

"This is... different." He was right—I can be messy at times, not that I'd admit it.

"About that garden... It is relatively new. I was unaware it was a private one. I think perhaps it would be best if you did not visit it again."

I glanced up at him, puzzled by the way his brow was wrinkled. There was an expression of concern on his face that I didn't understand—as if there was something else bothering him about the garden that he didn't want to mention. "I did no harm, Dimka—I only sat and enjoyed the quiet. Besides, you must be mistaken," I held out my hand for him to see the large puncture on my palm, wanting to prove my point, "for a rose to have thorns so large they must be several years old."

He muttered something under his breath in Russian, forgetting for a moment that it wasn't Roza by his side but rather was someone who understood the language. "Unless someone specifically made them grow that way."

Thinking about the prickling unease I'd felt before I touched the rose, I immediately realized what he meant. "Spirit? Did Lissa make them grow? Is that what has you acting like a worry wart—thinking about Roza finding out Lissa has been using Spirit when she isn't supposed to?"

He seemed startled, either from realizing he had mistakenly spoken aloud or by my question. "What do you know about that?"

"I know Spirit can help plants and flowers—sometimes when a plant in Mark's garden is dying, Oksa practices on it." I shrugged, dumping the dead flowers in a trash bin as we passed it. "She's been trying different things—researching old tales. I think she knows how worried Roza is about Lissa now that their bond is gone... she's trying to find something that might help. I know Lissa gets a little... unhinged. She did yesterday when we were shopping and I saw it with my own two eyes."

"I see."

We walked in silence for so long that I though he was done with the subject—but I really should have known better. My brother is very tenacious when something is on his mind. Be that as it may, I don't want you returning there." He looked down at me, his eyes narrowed; I could tell by his tone that he wouldn't budge on the issue. "It is a place for the family to mourn in private. Do you understand?"

"Yes... I understand."

What I didn't bother to explain was that I understood any visits to the spot would have to be in secret—because no matter what he said, I would be going back. Even now, something about the little hidden garden called to me, like a siren song I couldn't refuse—and not even my love for my brother would keep me from answering its call.

I won't bore you with the details of our trip to the spa—other than to say Roza had a change of clothing waiting for me and a pair of comfortable shoes, her way of making up to me for what had happened between us, I think. It was a wonderful experience being pampered and groomed—but I never imagined such things could be so tiring. We all had facials and massages—manicures and pedicures to boot—and I had my hair cut and styled in a new way that frames my face in long, wispy layers. It is still very long, but now it has a nice shape so my waves will be less likely to frizz when the weather is hot and humid.

The most interesting part of the afternoon was meeting Rhonda's nephew Ambrose. He was very handsome and flirtatious, but I didn't mind since he acted that way with everyone—he even wiggled his eyebrows and winked at Mama as he rubbed her feet. I think that after so much pampering everyone was totally relaxes and anxiety free... except for me. Despite the massage I was tense and on edge, and I had the weirdest feeling I'd forgotten something important; it was like trying to remember a song lyric and having it slip away right when it was on the tip of the tongue, frustrating me more and more with every second that passed.

And to top it all off... when I got home I discovered my dress still had not been delivered—and the party is tomorrow! I have the horrible feeling that something will happen and I'll be stuck wearing the dress I brought from Baia, looking totally out of place—and that's something I just couldn't bear. It may be petty of me, but just this one time I want to be the one who stands out in the crowd; I want to see admiration in the eyes of the men I meet, not just because they think I'm a piece of meat but because they look at me and see something special. I suppose I need to prove to myself that I'm better than the girl I was when Roza met me, not willing to settle for less than I deserve.

It wasn't until I climbed into bed and turned out the light that I realized I had forgotten something else too—and so had my entire family. "Happy birthday Vika," I murmured to myself, determined not to let my emotions get the best of me. I fought against stupid, childish tears, trying to distract myself with thoughts of happy things.

It didn't work.

I cried myself to sleep.

A/N Okay, this turned into a monster. Again not proofed because I add when I edit and at 13,293... this sucker is long enough. I'll try to proof it in the next couple of days—posting it first means I can't add, I can only fix... so there is a method to my madness. ;o)

I have received several pms with the same subject matter on a couple things and I wanted to answer them here so I don't have to send out the same answer over and over again.

1)When do we see Adrian?: Next chapter… and it is a goooood one.

2)What does kotyonok mean?: It has several meanings but when the Belikov's use it they are calling Vika 'kitten'.

3)Your dialogue seems choppy.: As someone with family in Russia, I know how my Russian relatives who have learned English as a second language speak; it is rather sing-songy and musical and lilting sounding, and they love making statements ask like questions. This is what the Belikov's—and all native Russian speakers—do in my fics.

And this wasn't a question but I feel I need to say it to head off any questions. I am aware this chapter is rushed and fast paced, flipping from topic to topic. It is intentional. I am trying to convey how frazzled Vika felt from the moment she woke up until the time she went to bed. She was lambasted nonstop, so in moving this chapter rapidly from one topic to the next I hope I leave the reader with a sense of the frustration and urgency that was riding her.

Hope you enjoyed it. Next one—with Adrian and Vika's first meeting as seen through her eyes—will be up in the next couple days.