Dear Diary,

We arrived back at our lodgings just as the doctor was leaving. Emil introduced her as Izolda Olendzki, and she seemed like a really nice person; she was very friendly, smiling warmly as she shook my hand. It did not surprise me that she was a Moroi; medical school is expensive—far beyond a dhampir's meager means, no matter how much they might want to achieve such a goal. That is something I have heard my mother lament more than once—it has always made me wonder if a career in medicine was an aspiration she'd had but been unable to achieve. Perhaps that is why she ended up becoming a midwife—it was the closest she could ever hope to get to that long lost dream.

Dr. Olendzki told me not to worry—that Yeva would be just fine. She'd given her an injection to take away the worst of her pain—one that might make her groggy and unresponsive.

"Once it kicks in she'll probably sleep for ten to twelve hours—just keep an eye on her and make sure her breathing doesn't become labored. If it does—"she pressed a card into my hand, "call me—I wrote the direct number to my room on the back. I don't care how late it is—I'm usually up working on research."

"Yes ma'am."

She patted me on the shoulder, giving me a sympathetic smile. "Alberta told me you suffer from headaches so I left you a packet of pills on the desk—it's nothing too strong, just a mild form of hydrocodone in case the pain gets too bad. It might make you a little nauseated, so try to eat something before you take it, even if it's just a piece of bread, alright?"

I nodded, returning her smile. "Yes…thank you. I appreciate your kindness, and thank you for helping my grandmother. Sometimes at night she suffers terribly from aches in her joints."

"Arthritis is a horrible thing—before you leave if you stop off at the clinic, I'll write out a few herbal remedies she might want to try. They won't do anything for the pain per say, but they'll ease the inflammation that causes it."

"I will certainly do that. Thank you again—"

She waved off my thanks, laughing softly. "Think nothing of it—it's what I'm here for. I hope your head feels better soon. If it doesn't—"

"Call you?" I guessed, glancing down at the card.

"Exactly. Have a good night Miss Belikova—and welcome to Saint Vlad's."

"She is very nice," I murmured, watching her walk down the hall.

Adrian nodded. "She is—she helped me out a few times when I was here. She has a herbal hangover remedy that actually works."

"You were here before? When?"

We both glanced over at Emil—he'd moved to stand against the wall, so silent I'd forgotten he was there. Adrian frowned, his fingers drumming against his thigh. "When Mr. Mazur came to watch his daughter compete in the trials. I was in his entourage."

"I knew something about you seemed familiar." Emil nodded, stepping away from the wall. "Well, as enjoyable as it has been, I am afraid I must be off too—I have a patrol starting in a few minutes. Miss Belikova, I'll probably see you tomorrow at some point in the gym?"

"Yes sir—I will be sitting in on some classes tomorrow… and please… call me Vika."

"Vika it is. Johnson—perhaps we can spar before you return to court. Any man who works for Zmey is sure to be a challenge on the mats." He winked at us, inclining his head in a small bow before he turned away; we both stared after him, more than a little worried by what he'd said.

"Well shit," Adrian muttered, as soon as the guardian was out of earshot. "He'll pulverize me."

I reached down and caught his hand, squeezing it reassuringly as we closed the short distance to the room. "No he won't—I'll think of some excuse. Don't worry. I don't want anyone messing up your face."

As soon as we entered the room, Adrian made a beeline for Yeva—bending down to whisper in her ear, his handsome face creased with worry. I felt the same way at the sight of her—she looked wan and almost frail, making me wonder if Doctor Olendzki had given her the wrong medication. I moved to join him, but Alberta touched my arm; her face was expressionless, but her eyes were full of something I could not read—the emotions in them were turbulent and churning, like an angry storm cloud.

"Viktoria, may I speak to you for a moment? Please?"

I nodded, stepping back out into the hall but leaving the door open so I could keep an eye on Yeva; Alberta leaned against the wall, but before she could speak, I swallowed my pride—knowing in my heart that it was what my brother would want me to do. "Madam Petrov… I am very sorry for my rude behavior. I have no excuse for it other than the shock of hearing about my cousin and then finding out you were there the night Dimitri… went away. You did not deserve the things I said—Emil told me of your kindness…saving Dimitri's things at your own expense… so I also owe you my thanks. Not just for that, but for watching over my grandmother for me as well."

Her shoulders sagged as I spoke, relief evident on her face. "Thank you—but I don't deserve your apology, Victoria. Every single thing you said to me is something I've thought about myself at least once a day since the night we lost him. Your brother… he is very special to me. I've always had a maternal feeling for him—and for Rose too. To see her hurting the way she did… and to know that he'd become something he hated… it was almost more than I could bear. I wanted to tell you that…" she tightened her lips, glancing through the open doorway, "and to discuss Guardian Johnson as well."

"Guardian Johnson? Why?" I tensed, wondering if she'd figured out the truth—praying that she hadn't.

"He's very attentive to your grandmother, isn't he? Almost as if she were his grandmother too."

"My grandmother is a very hard woman to get along with. There are few people she actually likes—so when she meets someone that she thinks is worthy, she bonds with them rather quickly. He is a gentleman and is worried about her—neither of which are bad things."

"Your brother asked me to watch over you while you were on campus… to make sure that Guardian Johnson didn't… take advantage of your friendship."

I snorted, rolling my eyes. "Madam—let me fill you in on something about my brother you might have missed. He is extremely overprotective. Before his restoration, the last time Dimitri and I actually spent any time together was when he was eighteen years old—I was ten at the time, and he can't seem to get it through his thick skull that I am no longer the little girl he used to know. I am eighteen years old—a legal adult in this country as well as my own, so what I do is my business and no one else's."

"Your grandmother said you were sweethearts—is that true?"

I closed my eyes, groaning. "My grandmother needs to learn to keep her big mouth shut."

"I'll take that as a yes—I assume Dimitri doesn't know?"

"May I be blunt? A few days ago… he tossed me over his shoulder like a sack of grain in the middle of a formal party for the queen and carted me off to my room just for kissing a boy—so tell me, what do you think?"

Her lips twitched up at the corners. "He did not—really?"

"He did. He later returned to make sure I was alone, searching the apartment and even leaning out the window to make sure I did not have a mystery lover hanging from the ledge."

"Was there someone there?"

"There was not—I had been asleep before he pounded on the door, startling me out of my wits."

"Was it Johnson? The boy you kissed?" The lip twitch had become a full out grin.

"No… it was someone else. Someone my brother does not like—though I did not know it at the time." I averted my eyes, not wanting her to sense the fib since Johnson and Adrian were one in the same.

"But… Dimitri gets along with everyone—he even got along with Stan Alto, who happens to be a first class jerk. I can't imagine he would…" her voice trailed off, her eyes narrowing. "Was it a Moroi or a dhampir?"

"Your interest in my love life is starting to disturb me." I crossed my arms over my chest, giving her a pointed look. "Don't you think all these questions are highly inappropriate?"

"Humor me—I told you I have maternal feelings for your brother, so just assume they extend to you as well. And you can stop scowling at me—that never worked when Rose did it so it's certainly not going to work for you. Answer the question please."

"It was a Moroi—Lord Adrian Ivashkov. My brother forbid me to have any further contact with him."

"Ah. Well… at least now I can understand why Dimitri might have a problem with the situation." She sighed, shaking her head. "Viktoria, I'm not going to police your behavior while you are here or tell you what to do—you're eighteen, that's old enough to make your own decisions. The only thing I'm going to say is this; that man in there obviously cares about your grandmother, and he cares about you too—I could tell in the car this morning by the way he looked at you. He's related to Ivashkov—in fact, that's exactly who I was thinking of earlier when I met him on the landing strip. There are a lot of physical similarities between them—just make sure you're not just involving yourself with Johnson because he reminds you of Adrian, alright?"

I stared at her, dumbfounded. For once someone was actually worried about Adrian getting hurt—albeit in a roundabout—not realizing it was him—sort of way. "I swear to you I will not hurt him, alright? Besides… we've only known each other a few days—it's not like we're serious or anything."

"You might want to tell your grandmother that—to hear her tell it you're practically walking down the aisle." She smiled, jerking her head towards the door. "Go on—I've taken up enough of your time. Just think about what I said kiddo."

"I will—thank you." I started to walk inside, but paused on the threshold, glancing back at her, frowning. "Guardian Petrov… do you like Adrian? As a person, I mean."

"Adrian Ivashkov is a wonderful man—misunderstood and a bit of a mess at times, but he's kind and compassionate and he cares about his friends. I don't know if you're aware of why your brother dislikes him—and it's not my place to tell you—but I think under different circumstances… Dimitri and Adrian could have eventually become friends."

"I know about Roza… Adrian told me." I bit my lip, feeling tears prick my eyes. "I think he is wonderful too… but he's hurting… and no one seems to care."

"I care. I've always had a soft spot for him—no matter how much he tried my patience when he was here." She reached out, squeezing my shoulder. "Vika… let Johnson down easy. He seems like a great guy… but the look on your face right now… he's already out of the running. That must have been one hell of a kiss."

"It was… it was magical." I smiled as I remembered it—and I knew it was a goofy, dreamy smile, but I didn't care. "That is… until Dimitri pulled us apart and started acting like a cave man."

"Viktoria?"

The sound of my grandmother's voice, pulled my head around; she was struggling to sit up, pushing Adrian's hands away as he tried to make her lay back down. "I have to go—Yeva needs me."

"If you need to talk more before you leave… my door is always open."

"Thank you—and I really am sorry I acted like such a little bitch earlier."

"Trust me—that wasn't bitchy. Remember—I'm the one who practically raised Rose."

I shut the door as she left, hurrying to Yeva's side. She huffed, scowling up at us, her irritation quite obvious. "I am fine—I was play acting to get rid of them for God's sake!"

"You—what?" Adrian did a double take, returning her scowl with one of her own. "I was really worried about you—that's not cool."

"It wasn't all an act—just some of it. I have pain—but that is nothing new. I am well enough to sit up. You two are acting like I have one foot in the grave." She held out her hand, shaking it as she looked up at him expectantly. "Well? Help me sit up boy! I'm an old woman in need of assistance."

He rolled his eyes, but did as she asked, then moved to grab the blanket that was folded at the bottom of the bed, draping it around her shoulders. "When my aunt's arthritis acted up she said being warm helped a little."

"You are a good boy Adrian—I appreciate your concern." She reached up, patting his cheek—then her eyes flicked to me. "Did it work?"

"Of course it did." It irritated me that she didn't have more faith in my abilities.

"You needn't be flippant—I had good reason to wonder if it was beyond you. I could not direct the sight until I was twenty and it was another five years before I could see the past."

"She's advanced," Adrian offered, grinning at her outburst.

"I told you I've done it before—seen the past I mean. It happened today in the hallway and also when we took you to the garden." I shot back—only realizing too late exactly what I'd let slip.

Adrian's eyes turned to me, wide and full of hope as he processed what I'd said. "You saw the past? Was it my aunt?"

I dropped my eyes, my heart aching at the look on his face. "Yes… it was."

"What did you see?"

"Adrian… not right now—I'll tell you later. Please—"

"Damn it Viktoria—I have a right to know! I've been trying to see her in my dreams for months, but I can't even conjure up an illusion of her!"

"I don't want to cause you pain, Dusha… it wasn't a pleasant sort of vision."

His mouth set in a thin, angry line. "I don't give a fuck—I want to know what you saw!"

I sighed, afraid that if I told him it would affect the way he felt for me—there's a reason for that saying 'don't kill the messenger'. Far too often we blame people for the bad news they deliver—I just hoped this wasn't one of those times. "I saw what happened that night… in her bedroom."

He staggered backward, sinking down on the foot of the bed. "You mean… the night she died? You saw her murder?"

"Yes… only it was more than that. I experienced it as if I were her. I felt it all—everything she felt that night. I didn't want to see it—but I couldn't escape." I shuddered, wrapping my arms around myself—the memory of her pain echoing through my mind.

"That's why you were screaming," he murmured, burying his head in his hands.

"She fought back, Dusha… she fought so hard…she was brave—holding her own… but her hand slipped." I moved over to stand in front of him—wanting to comfort him, but unsure where to begin.

He looked up at me, his green eyes bright and glassy looking from his unshed tears. "Did she suffer?"

I stared at him for two dozen heartbeats—focusing all my will as I tried to shape and mold something I couldn't see; from the moment we'd met, he had always been able to tell when I was lying. I sent out a silent plea to God and the angels that Yeva believed were responsible for the visions, praying that they would hear me and intercede. Please—this one time, hide the truth from his eyes. I will bear any burden you chose to send me… just please… give him peace. "No—she didn't. It was quick and painless—it happened in the blink of an eye."

He shuddered, reaching out to grab my hand, pressing his lips against my palm. "Thank you Angel… I just needed to know she was at peace."

There was a chiming in my head—soft, like the soothing sound of a dulcimer, only at a much higher pitch than any instrument on earth could ever make; I closed my eyes, sending up silent thanks as I wrapped my arms around him and held him while he cried.

"Do you still want to see her, child?" We both turned to look at Yeva—Adrian trembled in my arms.

"More than anything… I never got to say goodbye." His voice broke, full of anguish so thick I could practically feel it.

"Then I will help you achieve this. But it cannot be done until we return to Court—that is where her spirit lingers."

His arms tightened around me, fingers digging into my back. "How? I want to see her—not talk to her second hand."

"And so you will. We will go to the garden—the three of us… and you will pull Viktoria and I into one of those fancy dreams… then I will call her to us." She gave him a sad smile, holding out her hand to him; he glanced up at me—making my heart break. He looked like a little boy, needing permission—I nodded, stepping away.

He moved slowly, his grief making him unsteady on his feet, sliding his hand into hers and gazing into her eyes. "Is it… will it hurt you? Tell me the truth Ms. Belikova—I'll know if you lie."

"It will tire me… you will heal me when we are done." She glanced over at me, a strange, secretive smile on her lips before she returned her eyes to his, "Then you will be healed in return—and I am not Ms. Belikova to you. You may call me babushka—or Yeva, if you prefer."

"What does that mean?"

"Grandmother, " I whispered. "She is accepting you as one of her family."

"I haven't had a grandmother for a very long time… or even a family, really."

He sank down on the floor beside her, resting his forehead against her arm; her tiny hand moved up to gently stroke his head as she began humming softly. "Sleep, kotik. Sleep and let your mind wander to a beautiful place. Our kotyonok will go and fetch our dinner—then we will all discuss what she saw in the cabin, yes?"

"She shouldn't go alone… I need to go—"

"Shhh… no. You will stay and keep me company. Babushka will tell you tales of the olden days, when dragons were rampant and the Ivashkovs were the mountain kings, ruling over all of the motherland. Vika—go… tell them your grandmother is ill and needs a hot meal. I would prefer Pelmeni… tell them that too."

"Only here a few hours and already making demands? Watch out, people will start to think I'm a bad influence on you." His eyes were closed, his voice barely a whisper; I moved to tug the blanket so that it covered them both, then pressed a kiss against Yeva's forehead and one against Adrian's damp cheek.

"Hurry back," he whispered, "I miss you when you're gone."

"I will," I murmured, my eyes drifting up to meet Yeva's. She nodded her head, understanding the weight of my gaze—giving her affirmation that she'd watch over him for me, occupying his mind as best she could.

There was a stone walkway that bisected the large the quad, running between the building we were staying in and the commons area that housed the cafeteria; classes had apparently just been dismissed—it was crowded with laughing and joking students. Their voices were high pitched and cheerful, betraying their excitement at being freed from the drudgery of class. Their boisterous antics irritated me for some reason—perhaps because for a moment, I envied their carefree manner. They didn't have to worry about visions or missing relatives—or caring about someone who was in danger of slowly losing his mind. I wove between them, bypassing the lunch line to head for the service area where a dhampir woman stood collecting the discarded trays as the students dropped them off.

"Good afternoon Madam, I am a visitor here and—"

"You are Russian?" She cut me off, her voice delighted.

"Yes—I attend Saint Basil's." I automatically switched to my native tongue, "I am here with my grandmother… she is ill and asked me to see if there was perhaps some broth available for me to take her."

"You wait here one minute, yes? I get Natalia for you. She is the cook." Before I could respond, she disappeared thru the double doors, returning a few minutes later with an elderly woman at her side. "Your grandmother is ill? There is a doctor here—"

"Yes Madam, the doctor has seen her. It is nothing serious, she had a shock… we learned my cousin, Guardian Luzhkov—"

"Savva… you are Savva's kin?" Her blue eyes filled with tears as she reached out, pulling me into her arms. "I am very sorry for your loss—he was a very wonderful man. Always he came to visit me in the mornings to keep me company while I worked. I prepared him things to help with the homesickness… Sirniki and Pelmeni—"

"That is my grandmother's favorite—it is what she was craving," I pulled back, smiling down at her—she couldn't have been more than five foot two.

"You wait—I will make some. I have some in the deep freeze." She turned to the woman beside her, jerking her head towards the kitchen, "Fetch her a cup of my tea—" she turned back to me, smiling, "And what for you, little miss? Some blini?"

"Oh no madam—I can just eat something from the lunch line. There is no need to—"

The scoffing noise she made cut me off. "No no no. I will prepare you a tray, yes? For you and your grandmother."

"There is one more person in out group—my… uh… friend."

"I will make sure to have plenty for three. You sit… give me a few moments. I am Natalia. While you are here… you ask for me. Savva's kin will not eat pre-prepared food."

"It is an honor to meet you—I am Viktoria. Viktoria Belikova."

Her eyes widened. "You are related to Gurdian Belikov too? I did not know he and Savva were kin!"

"He is my big brother." I smiled proudly. "We are visiting him at Court—this is just a side trip."

"I will send something to him when you go—I was very fond of him and his big appetite." She laughed, steering me over to a bench that ran along the wall. "Sit—I will be back soon. Stasya will bring you tea—good tea, the way we have it at home."

I waited until Stasya returned, accepting the mug of tea gratefully; it was spicy and delicious, with hints of cinnamon and clove—even better than the way my mama prepared it when we were at home. I said as much, making her laugh.

"The secret ingredient is the orange—Natalia does not use orange juice, she uses the powdered Tang drink mix." She winked before hurrying back to her post.

I took another long drink before setting the mug down beside me on the bench; digging through my purse, I pulled out the phone I'd been given, scrolling through the few numbers that were listed before hitting the call button. I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself—he answered on the second ring.

"Viktoria—bored already?"

"I have a question for you."

He chuckled. "I have answers for almost everything. Shoot."

"If I were to ask for a favor… how much would it cost me?"

"Depends on the favor, kid."

"This is just between you and me? You won't tell anyone… not even Roza?" Almost as much as I worried over the cost of the favor, I worried that Roza would find out and blab to my brother.

"Favors are business, and I keep my business separate from my private life—I won't say a word to anyone. What is it you're needing? A loan? How much were you—"

"I need the floor plan for the Guardian's Headquarters building at Court."

He was silent for a minute—probably shocked by what I'd said. "Why?"

"For… reasons."

"Expound on that."

"There is information there that I need… I'm going to break in and get it."

"Jesus kid—when you go rogue, you really do it with pizazz." He snorted; I could hear him drumming his fingers on something. "What kind of information?"

"That does not concern you."

"Has it ever occurred to you that I might know the information you need? I have eyes and ears everywhere, Viktoria. If we're going to make a deal… there must be full disclosure and total honesty between us."

I sighed, rubbing my temple. "I need to find out where Adrian's mother is."

"Why?"

"He wants to see her. He needs to see her. I'm going to make it happen."

"I repeat… why?"

"Do I really need a reason to want to help him?"

"For something like breaking and entering into an area that's protected by guardians? Yeah—you do."

I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the wall. "Don't make me say it." It was a whisper. "He should hear it first… not you."

Abe sighed. "You've fallen hard and fast, haven't you?"

I didn't answer.

"I sympathize kid—same way it hit me with Janine." He sighed deeply, falling silent; the only indication that he was still on the line was the sound of rustling papers. "I'll try and find out where she is—if I can't… I'll get you what you need and help you pull it off."

"I don't need—"

"Bullshit—you can't break in there alone Viktoria. You're eighteen—if they catch you… you'll be in a cell right alongside Daniella's. I'll make sure there's…something to occupy the Guardian's while you go in and get what you need—you'll probably have to use Hans Croft's computer to access the information, so we'll need his passwords as well. It would be a hell of a lot easier if we included Rose—"

"No! She can't know—I'm not supposed to even be talking to Adrian, remember?"

"Calm down—I gave you my word I wouldn't say anything and I won't. But logistically speaking, as the Queen's primary guardian… she can get in places most people can't."

I fell silent for a moment, considering what he said. "Does she have… like… an ID badge?"

"Yes… why?"

"And if she was seen going into the headquarters… no one would question it, right?"

"No—she has all access clearance, to the best of my knowledge. What are you thinking, little girl?"

"That if you can get me the floor plans… I can do the rest—but you still haven't told me your price."

"Two things. A favor in the future—nothing illegal or immoral—and for you to do what you can to heal the rift between my daughter and Ivashkov. You may not believe it… but she misses her friend."

"You want me… to fix things between the man I lo—" I caught myself, scowling, "—the man I am involved with and his ex?"

"Isn't that what I said? It's really in your best interest… until they patch things up, Belikov will never accept your involvement with Adrian—he won't be able to. Rose is hurting—which hurts him in return. Not to mention the fact my daughter… can be rather vindictive. It's a family trait. Until they're friends again… she's going to continue to be pissed off at him."

I thought about it; the fact he wanted an unnamed favor probably should have bothered me more than the thought of Adrian rekindling his friendship with Roza—but it didn't. Still, I knew it was the best deal I was likely to make. "Fine. Then we have a deal."

"Come see me when you get back to Court. I'll have everything ready by then."

He hung up; I sat, staring at the phone for a minute, wondering if I'd just sold my soul to the devil without realizing it.

"Viktoria?" Natalia's voice pulled me out of my dark musings; she'd returned with the food—enough to feed an army.

I stared at the overflowing tray, stunned. It was bigger than the one's the students were using—insteadof small and rectangular shaped, it was large and round, like a server might use in a restaurant. There was a huge bowl of Pelmeni, a plate stacked with blini, sandwiches, fruit, butter, a pitcher of warm strawberry syrup and a large carafe of the delicious tea—along with empty mugs, plates and silverware. "Please…tell me my brother and my cousin did not expect you to cook like this every day?"

She laughed, balancing the tray easily while I out my phone away and stood up. "Expected? No—never. I was pleased to do it. Our men… they have big appetites, yes?"

"So do I," I admitted, smiling as I took the tray, trying not to spill anything. "Thank you very much, I—"

"This is for grandmother… a few drops in her tea will help her more than anything the doctor could prescribe," she whispered, lifting up the napkins on the tray to show me a tiny bottle of Russian Vodka that she's hidden underneath them. Only for grandmother! I am trusting you."

"Yes Madam—I will not touch a drop, I swear to you." I leaned over, pressing a kiss against her cheek; she beamed up at me, pleased with the gesture.

"In the morning I will prepare Olad'yi for you all—when you arrive tell Stasya so I can start them cooking." She steered me through the throng of students, waving them out of the way—holding the door open for me to maneuver through. "Tell your grandmother I look forward to meeting her tomorrow, and I hope she feels better."

Going back across the quad—and up all those stairs—carrying that overladen tray was an effort, to say the least. It wasn't that it was heavy, more that it was just bulky, and I had to be so very careful not to jostle or spill anything—which would have been considerably easier had the Moroi students been polite enough to step aside when they saw me coming as opposed to expecting me to move out of their way. By the time I made it back to the room, I was more than a little irritable; I bumped my elbow against the door, trying to knock softly—when that didn't work, I tried again, kicking it with my foot a little harder, but still, no one came to help me.

Cursing softly, I struggled to balance the overladen tray on one arm, digging in my pocket for the key to the room and trying to get it in the lock. By the time I finally got it turned, I'd spilled half of the tea down my arm—the hot liquid scalding my skin. I was ready to launch into a tirade about rudeness when I got the door open—but the sight that awaited me froze me in place before a single word left my lips. My frustration was swept away by a sense of calming peace; it was a feeling like the one you get when a heavy storm has passed over, the rain leaving everything it touched clean and fresh and new in its wake.

They were both sound asleep—my grandmother snoring softly—with Adrian curled up on the floor beside the couch, his dark head resting against her arm. Even deeply asleep, their hands were clasped together; from the pain free expression on Yeva's face, I knew he had healed away any remaining arthritic aches the injection she'd received earlier had missed. The act had exhausted him so completely that he didn't stir at all—not when I set the tray down on the table that was less than a foot from where he rested his head or when I gently placed a pillow from the bed under his neck, hoping it would keep it from aching when he woke.

Grabbing one of the sandwiches and pouring myself a mug of tea, I retreated to the same chair I'd occupied a few hours before—scarfing down the food as quickly as I could before sorting through the stack of journals, searching for the very first one. I tossed my legs over the arm of the chair, ignoring how uncomfortable it was as I began to read my cousin's thoughts, searching for whatever it was that my grandmother thought I should find.

"Vika? What are you reading?" Yeva's voice was hushed, softer than a whisper; she sounded half asleep—the way I sometimes did when Mama tried to talk to me before I'd crawled out of bed.

"We found Savva's journals. I thought maybe they might—"

"Good. His wisdom will guide you—he was an excellent guardian. Very dedicated to his Moroi."

"I have the food. There is Pelmeni and—"

"Can you not see we are resting child? Eating can wait—now hush, or you will wake our kotik." She turned her head, her lips curving up in a soft smile as she gazed at Adrian's sleeping face. "He is a good boy. Strong and brave—you will help him see this." Her voice faded as her eyes closed; a moment later her mouth fell open and she started snoring again.

Sighing, I shifted, trying to find a position that didn't make me feel as though my spine were breaking, then I began to read, losing myself in my cousin's innermost thoughts—things he never intended for anyone else to see. It didn't take me more than a few entries to realize that I'd need to skip a few volumes—the one I held in my hands had been written when he was fifteen, and though it was sweet reading about his secret love for his best friend, it didn't seem like the sort of thing that could help me figure out what had happened to him.

I skimmed through the book, reading a few entries at random, but it was pretty clear that the majority of them were dedicated to poetic ramblings about the Moroi girls dark hair or comparing her eyes to the clear blue of a spring sky. Closing the book, I chewed on my lips, eyeing the stack until I came up with what seemed like the most logical course of action. As quietly as possible, I leafed through the journals, separating them into two stacks; the first were the books composed while he was a novice, the second for the ones that had been written after he'd graduated and become a guardian. Satisfied that now I'd finally make some headway, I picked a book at random from the second stack and settled back to read—only to let out a hushed groan a few minutes later. Apparently even as a guardian, one thing had dominated my cousin's mind—Sofiya Badica. This time he was going on and on about her voice—as soft and sweet as a meadowlarks song.

I was obviously in for a very long, very boring night of reading.

It may sound harsh or overly critical, but Savva's musings just didn't hold my attention. I was halfway through the book when I started nodding off—but I made it to the end of the volume before sleep completely overtook me. I'd at least figured out one thing; the music box had been his Moroi's—a token of love he'd given her when they were little more than children. It didn't explain where it was now, but it gave me some idea as to why it had been important to him.

I woke up stiff and uncomfortable an hour or so later, still clutching the journal I'd been reading when sleep had overcome me. My grandmother and Adrian were still fast asleep, the tray untouched beside them; I didn't want to disturb them—they both needed to rest and recuperate from everything that had happened over the last few days. Setting the book down, I stretched, loosening all the kinks and knots that had formed in my back while I'd napped in the chair. My neck still ached a little, but it was nothing a hot shower wouldn't cure—and of course, once I thought about it, I couldn't put it off. I felt grimy from our visit to the cabin—not to mention that I probably still smelled sweaty from our hike.

I left the room as quietly as I could, intending to return to wake Adrian and Yeva up after I showered and put on some clean, sweat free clothed; my plan changed, however, as soon as I crossed the hall and entered the room where I'd left my things. There was a large envelope on the floor with my name scrawled across it, obviously shoved under the door by Alberta Petrov—it contained the schedule she'd worked out for me and a map of the campus. I looked it over, frowning; they only had eight classes a day as opposed to the ten we had at Saint Basil's, but whereas I had only planned on attending a couple, Alberta had me sitting in on every class—which wouldn't leave me much time for anything else. I'd already wasted the first day of our stay by hiking out to Savva's cabin—there were only two remaining, and I knew they would practically fly by.

A glance at my watch told me I needed to hurry—I was expected in the gym in less than an hour to attend the first novice training session of the day. Dropping the papers on the bed I hurried to take a fast shower, not bothering to do anything more than towel dry my hair since time was scarce. I braided it quickly in a single, long plait, then dressed in the same sort of clothesI'd wear for my own classes—yoga pants and a baggy Saint Basil's t-shirt that had my last name across the back; if they expected me to dress up just because I was a visitor, they were in for a rude awakening. Shoving my feet in my beat up sneakers, I jotted a quick note on the back of the envelope Alberta had left— explaining where I'd gone so Yeva and Adrian wouldn't worry—then I grabbed my purse, cramming the schedule inside but keeping the map in hand as I set out to find the gym.

Despite the fact I got twisted around a couple times before I found it, I was still about ten minutes early; Emil and another guardian were setting up the mats when I walked in. I automatically set down my small bag and hurried over to help them—catching Emil off guard. He looked so surprised by my actions I laughed; obviously the novices here never thought to offer assistance.

"Miss Belikova—good morning. You really don't have to—"

"I don't mind—I often have to help out in the gym. Guardian Zykov often assigns me the task as punishment for being tardy." I grabbed one of the mats, dragging it over to where they stood, quickly unfolding the padded material and laying it out across the ground.

"That's not a bad idea—maybe we should try that here."

"I'm sure it is supposed to teach me to be more prompt—but between you and me, it hasn't worked a bit. I'd much rather sleep for thirty more minutes and help out in the gym than get up early and be tired and grouchy all day long."

He shook his head, chuckling at my candor. "You are going to scare Guardian Maclamore—this is his first teaching position and he's only been here a few weeks. He still thinks all novices have a burning desire to learn."

I looked over at the stocky red haired guardian, smiling apologetically. "I promise you most novices are far more conscientious than me—I just happen to be a very lazy girl who loves sleeping in."

Maclamore gave me an appraising look. "Not too lazy—you're here before everyone else."

"Ah—but that is only because I haven't really slept. I dozed in a chair watching over my grandmother, but only for an hour or so. If I'd actually been stretched out in a comfortable bed, I assure you I would still be cuddled up under the covers."

Both men laughed at the comment, making me feel more at ease; as we finished laying out the mats, Emil questioned me about my classes and training schedule. I noticed that as I answered, the other guardian tensed, withdrawing from the conversation entirely— though I didn't understand why. I was on the verge of asking if I had somehow offended him when the first of the novices rolled in, their boisterous, noisy antics making conversation impossible. Within minutes, the gym was full of boys—all of them whispering and casting furtive glances my way, making me feel completely out of place as I retreated to the wall. I was there to observe, but I was the one being watched—though I could not fault them for their curiosity.

Emil stepped to the center of the room, clapping his hands and calling for attention; as he began to speak, my discomfort grew even stronger—he was talking about my brother and the things that had happened that led up to his being turned. They were things I didn't want to know—I didn't want to picture my brother dying in that cave; I didn't want to hear about how bravely he had given his life or how they'd left him all alone. I tuned him out as best I could, studying the floor beneath my feet—only looking up when I heard my name falling from his lips.

"Miss Belikova is a senior at Saint Basil's and she will be observing your classes for the next two days. While she is here you will be welcoming and show her the same respect you would want to receive if you were a guest at her school." He nodded to me, smiling, then launched into the days lesson—a review of the basic defense techniques they'd been learning over the last few weeks.

He was a very interesting teacher; he didn't preach or nag—instead he laughed and joked as he moved among the students, correcting sloppy foot placement and posture in a way that wasn't chastising or stern. I could tell the students liked him by the way they responded to; they didn't talk back or get frustrated by his suggestions in the slightest—instead they listened intently, immediately incorporating what he said, trying to please him by giving it their all.

"I suppose your classes are very different than this, Miss Belikova?" Guardian Maclamore leaned back against the wall, his face expressionless as he glanced my way. "From what you said I take it their teaching methods are very different than ours."

I frowned, replaying the answers I'd given Emil. "No sir… I am not sure why you would say that. The only comparison I made was to say we took more classes each day. For one thing we are all required to take English as a second language and—"

"So these are the same techniques you're leaning? I would have thought a senior novice would be studying more advanced things."

"I learned these things my freshman year," I said, shaking my head. "Our classes are structured differently—they test us on what we know, then place us accordingly. Because my grandmother trained me at home, I was more advanced than my peers—so I was allowed to attend more advanced classes."

His jaw tightened. "I see. So you're saying you know things we aren't teaching these boys?"

"I can think of only one technique that I have not seen here today," I responded, my eyes on Emil as he 'attacked' a student from behind. "But it isn't one I learned at the academy—my grandmother taught me when I was about nine. I don't think it is one you would show this class, since you are men and they are boys."

"We've covered all the basics—this is only one class, you can't expect to see them all in one day. There are far too many to cover one lesson." His voice was curt—his irritation evident.

"Of course—I meant no offense, sir."

"I think you did—you implied our training methods are lacking. Guardian Amanar—" he called out loudly, attracting the attention of every single person in the room, "apparently our lessons aren't up to par with Saint Basil's—Miss Belikova seems to think we've skipped a fundamental lesson."

"I didn't say that! I—"

"Oh really?" Emil didn't seem as offended as Maclamore—he sounded almost amused. "Then maybe she should demonstrate it for us—I'd hate to leave our students unprepared."

My cheeks heated at the suggestion; shaking my head I protested vehemently, not wanting to show them anything. "I only said I hadn't seen it used today—that's all."

"What's the matter Miss Belikova—afraid to be proven wrong?" Maclamore gave me a withering look, filling his eyes with contempt. "Or are you just afraid we'll point out all the flaws in your form?"

I glared at him, my temper flaring as he picked on me; all I'd done was answer his questions truthfully but he was acting like I'd intentionally insulted his teaching skills. I felt my mask of politeness fall away—the intense dislike I was feeling for the man made it impossible to hand onto civility. Filling my eyes with just as much contempt, I stalked over to the mats—holding up my hand to stop Emil as he approached me. "No, I want to fight Guardian Maclamore—he issued a challenge to me."

"It won't be a fight, Miss Belikova—I don't want to hurt a lazy little girl." The guardian's voice was scornful—fueling my anger.

"We shall see—I wager you are the one who will be hurting, sir." I muttered, making the word 'sir' an insult with my tone.

"Before you demonstrate we need the lesson," Emil said, motioning the students to move back and give us room.

"There is no lesson—I am no teacher," I protested, giving him an evil look. He seemed far too pleased with what was happening for my liking.

"Today you are. Please begin."

I scowled, watching Maclamore as he swaggered towards me. "I am sure you are all aware my brother is a very large man—almost gargantuan. He is tall and bulky, and has been since he was about fourteen. He was bigger than the other novices in his class; no one could ever beat him. This concerned my grandmother—she was afraid he was in danger of becoming cocky and overconfident—so the next time he came home… she challenged him to a sparring match."

"Is this how they teach lessons at Saint Basil's? By telling boring stories?" Maclamore stopped a few feet away from me, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"There is no need for rudeness, Guardian Maclamore. Don't make me remind you that Miss Belikova is a guest at this academy." Emil's voice was sterner than I'd heard since my arrival—holding a distinct note of dislike for the man he was addressing; it made me wonder if he had a problem with the him. "Miss Belikova—please continue."

My eyes darted around the crowd of students that were watching—they didn't seem bored, though they were obviously eager for the physical demonstration to commence. "I tell you these things so you will understand—a match between my brother and our grandmother was hardly an even one; she is barely five feet tall in her stocking feet. That did not deter her in the slightest—she was insistent, so he followed her outside with my sisters and I trailing after them. They faced off—then right before they began, she posed him with a riddle: The greatest, most skilled fighter in the world fears not the second greatest fighter—but the worst."

Maclamore charged me—tired of waiting; I caught the movement out of the corner of my eye, skirting him and punching him in the side as he passed me. He whirled around, his left leg lashing out at me—I had todive sideways and roll to avoid the kick. I leapt up from the mat, but before I could center myself he was on me, fists flying in a combination I couldn't evade while still off balance. Pain lanced through my face as his fist smashed into my cheekbone—my breath leaving me in an audible rush as his other fist hit my solar plexus. I shook my head, dancing back to increase the distance between us—focusing on my anger so I could override the pain.

So much for not wanting to hurt me.

He seemed surprised that I was still on my feet; his stance was sloppy—as if he thought the fight was over. It wasn't—not for me. Not by a longshot.

"Is that the best you've got?" I said, crouching over to lower my center of gravity; my goading comment worked—he moved towards me again without correcting his form.

I feinted left—throwing a punch as soon as he tried to get under my guard; there was a crunch as my fist met his nose—cartilage flattening under the force of my swing. To give him credit, he didn't falter; he shook his head once then crouched down lower, lunging at me again—only this time I didn't avoid him. I shifted, misdirecting his attention—leaving my midsection open for whatever punch he might throw; he took the opening, just like I'd thought he would—so intent on my 'mistake' that he was completely unprepared for the well-aimed kick I slammed right between his legs with all the force I could muster.

There was an audible intake of breath from every male in the room; I knew that if I looked at them, they would all be wincing at my action. Maclamore was red faced as he doubled over, clutching at his privates with both hands.

"You fucking bitch! That's cheat—"

His words dissolved into a howl of pain as I took out his left knee with a side kick, the joint popping with a sickening sound—but I wasn't finished yet. I punched him in the kidneys then slammed my knee up under his chin—stepping back as he collapsed on the mat.

"The greatest fighter fears the amateur because they will use unpredictable moves that a well-trained fighter would never use. Even more fearful is someone who has been trained but understands that sometimes you must make an amateurish mistake to bring a man to his knees and win the fight." I slammed my hand against Maclamore's back—touching the spot I would stake if he had been a Strigoi. "You, sir… are dead."

I turned my back on him—a gesture that was a disgrace to a fallen fighter; it showed that I considered him no threat. "A Strigoi expects a Guardian to fight like a well-trained expert—they expect the roundhouse kicks and punch combinations… they do not expect a kick in the balls. It may not hurt them the same way it hurts you—but the brain is a very funny thing. No matter the manner of creature, their brain remembers pain once it has been experienced. When I kicked him… you all remembered the feeling of being kicked there, yes? A Strigoi will remember it too. It will give you a brief opening to gain the upper hand that you might not have had before."

"What if it's a woman? Won't work then." It came from the back of the crowd—a tall boy, with sandy hair that hung forward in his eyes. I opened my mouth to respond—only to be interrupted by an amused voice from behind me.

"It affects women the same way—we feel pain, just a different kind." I glanced over my shoulder to where the voice came from; my grandmother and Adrian were standing by the wall near the doorway, wearing identical looks, their expressions filled with pride.

"But ladies don't have… you know." The boy blushed, ducking his head.

"Child, a woman's genitals are filled with nerve endings—they are extremely sensitive to pleasure and pain. I suggest you study up on female anatomy before you reach manhood or you will have many unsatisfied bedmates and no repeat visitors." Yeva beckoned me over with her hand, frowning. "I am taking my granddaughter to get food and a compress for her jaw. I suggest you inform Guardian Petrov of what happened here—Viktoria will be attending no more training classes today. She did not come here to be abused by the faculty."

"But I have a schedule—"

"Your grandmother is right—you need to put ice on your cheek." Emil moved up beside me, reaching to shake my hand. "Thank you for a most educational demonstration, Miss Belikova. I would like to spar with you before you leave—in a much friendly manner, of course."

I tried to smile my thanks, but failed—moving my lips made the pain blossom all over again all up and down the side of my face. "Thank you sir—it would be my pleasure. You are an excellent instructor, the students here are very lucky to have you."

I walked over, scooping up my bag, ducking my head as I approached Yeva and Adrian; had my hair been down the gesture would have worked, allowing me to hide my injury, but with it pulled back tightly, it was still on display—Adrian's sharp intake of breath made that obvious. He reached for my cheek, but I batted his hand away; he couldn't heal me—if he did, everyone would wonder why I wasn't bruised in a few hours time.

"Angel—"

"You can't. I'll take some aspirin and it will be fine."

"I know just the thing for that—a poultice my great grandmother showed me. It works wonders… I promise. There won't even be a bruise." Yeva's voice was loud as we exited the gym; I shot her a look rolling my eyes.

"I am not letting him heal me—he can't… it hurts him," I whispered fiercly.

"Mhmmm… give and take… one heals the hurt then is healed themself. That is the way of the things," she murmured, not looking at either of us.

The hair on the back of my neck prickled; I stared at her, waiting for her to continue—she didn't.

"Tell me… did you find anything interesting in your cousin's writings?"

I sighed loudly at her abrupt change of subject, shaking my head—a gesture I wouldn't be repeating anytime soon since the movement made my injured face radiate with pain. "I think I will just read the later volumes—most of what I read last night was about his infatuation with his best friend… If I have to read one more thing comparing her wavy hair to the midnight black waters of the Ob, I might scream.

Adrian made a choking sound, "Are you serious?"

"Oh yes. He was a very poetic man—but I don't think the adolescent musings of a boy in love will help me figure out what became of him."

"Did I say you should read them to find out where he went? No—I told you to read them for his wisdom." Yeva shot me a scolding look, adjusting her shawl around her shoulders.

"No offense, but having been an adolescent boy myself… I can tell you they aren't very wise," Adrian offered, his fingers brushing against my hand—making shivers of pleasure dance along my skin.

"My Savva was not like most boys, kotik. He was born with an old soul, much like me. At fifteen he discovered what I did not know until I was almost a grown woman."

My neck prickled again; I stopped walking, putting my hands on my hips and scowling. "This is ridiculous—if you know something, just tell me! All your hints don't help me at all—in fact they are starting to frustrate me. Every time you do it my Sight prickles—it is very disconcerting!"

"If I could tell you, I would. I cannot. It is a dangerous thing—trying to navigate around the obstacles fate puts in our paths; I often wonder if my life might have played out very differently had I not tried to change the things I saw in vision. Would you risk the blessings you have on hand for instant knowledge as opposed to taking the time to find it on your own? If your answer is yes, then you are not worthy of hearing my wisdom."

I didn't respond; she was right—what I'd found with Adrian was far too important to lose because I took a shortcut. My eyes flicked from my grandmother to Adrian and then back again as I slowly nodded my assent. "You are right… as always. I apologize for my outburst."

She huffed at me, turning away and speeding her steps; as we approached the cafeteria, I moved to open the door for her, but Adrian beat me to it, winking and bowing as he ushered her inside—immediately chasing away her sullen mood and bringing a smile to her face.

"Thank you kotik—such a gentleman. You see? I knew he was a good, wholesome boy the first time I laid eyes on him."

"Even though I was lip locked with your granddaughter at the time?" His tone was light and teasing, making her chuckle.

"Even so. And of course I knew that kiss would become something much more heated later that night."

The look on his face was absolutely priceless. I never imagined I would see Adrian embarrassed—but he certainly was in that moment; I felt my face flush—his did the same, the faintest flush of pink across his cheekbones. "You… uh… knew that was going to happen?"

"Of course—why do you think I sent Zmey to help her find you?"

Thank God above I heard Stasya call out my name; it provided me with something to divert Yeva's attention before she could embarrass us further. By the time we neared the line, Natalia had bustled out of the kitchen; she bowed to Yeva and took her hand, launching into an oration on all the wonderful things my brother and cousin had said about her. The two began talking, so fast that it was like listening to the chatter of magpies; Adrian just smiled, unable to follow the conversation since it was in Russian—and me? My entire head was throbbing; it started just below my cheekbone where Maclamore hit me, radiating outward like a starburst in all directions. The thought of even attempting to eat made me ill—the amount of pain that chewing would involve would probably make me pass out.

I cleared my throat, interrupting just long enough to tell them I was going to find us a seat; I needed to escape the rapid fire conversation and sit down before I threw up. I found a table close enough that Yeva wouldn't have far to walk, but one that was still a good distance away from the area where most of the students were seated; school dynamics are pretty much the same no matter where you are—the tables nearest the serving lines are generally the last ones to fill.

The cafeteria wasn't extremely busy, but there were still quite a few students present—they gathered in clusters, scattered throughout the large, rectangular room. They were mostly Moroi, making me wonder if their classes started later than the novice ones—that was the way it was structured at my school, since we had a fuller course load. Unfortunately, my quick perusal of the room attracted attention; I had only just seated myself when a tall dark haired boy broke away from one of the groups, sauntering my was with a friendly smile on his face. He leaned against the table beside me, slouching, with his hands buried in his pockets—perhaps thinking it made him look laid back and cool. It didn't.

"Hi—I don't remember seeing you around before. You a new transfer?"

"No—I am a visitor." I stared straight ahead, not even turning my head to look at him; I knew his type far too well—he would take any polite response as an invitation to flirt. I wasn't in the mood for conversation—especially not the kind he was likely to offer. Something about his mannerisms reminded me of Rolan—and that was not a good thing.

"You go to Saint Basil's?"

I barely turned my head, glancing at him from the corner of my eye as he gestured towards my shirt. "Yes, I am a senior there."

"I hear they're pretty strict compared to—wow… what happened to your face?" He sat down—uninvited—eyes wide as he stared at my cheek.

"Training injury."

"Looks painful. I'm Maximillian—Max to my friends." He held out his hand—I ignored it.

"I do not mean to be rude but I am not in the mood for company—my injury looks painful because it is painful… talking makes it feel worse."

"You should go to the clinic—they could give you something to help with the pain. I'd be glad to walk you over—"

"Making friends, sweetheart?" Adrian's voice was a low purr as he claimed the chair on my other side, setting down two cups of coffee as he leaned over to brush his lips across my injured cheek. The accompanying rush of warmth dulled the worst of the pain; it still ached, but it was no longer throbbing in time with my heartbeat.

I frowned, irritated that he'd healed me, even just a little. "Guardian Johnson, this is—"

"Max Tarus—son of Damon Tarus,"Adrian cut me off smoothly, leaning back in his chair. "Cousin to Adrian Ivashkov—from what I hear he's trying to follow in his cousin's notorious footsteps."

"Do I know you?" The boy—Max—looked more than a little put out at Adrian's sudden appearance.

"Maybe—you were at Alder last year, right? What happened? Get expelled for sneaking dhampir girls into your dorm room again?" He took a sip of coffee, seeming to enjoy making his young cousin squirm.

"Were you on staff there? No one was supposed to talk about that… my father said he took care of it." Max glanced over his shoulder at his friends, looking worried.

"Ah yes… Damon Tarus and his exemplary legal maneuvering. Unfortunately, I didn't sign the non-disclosure agreement." Adrian's arm slid around the back of my chair, tugging it closer to his. "I can assure you Miss Belikova doesn't want to come up to your room and see your collection of antique coins—she's got her hands full keeping me in line."

I'd assumed the boy had come over intending to flirt—but Adrian seemed sure that he'd had much more than just flirting on his mind. "If you will excuse us Max—as I said before, I am in quite a bit of pain and am not in the mood for company."

"Sure… sorry I bothered you. Hope you feel better soon."

He looked so crestfallen as he stood that I couldn't stop myself from reaching out to touch his arm. "Thank you for offering to take me to see the doctor. I appreciate it."

He nodded, the hurt embarrassment fading from his face. "You're welcome. I hope you enjoy your visit."

I watched him walk back over to his friends, waving when he glanced back over his shoulder. "You didn't have to be so rough on him—I could have handled it."

"Oh I know you could have—but everything I said was true. Alder is the third school he's been kicked out of for that shit—I might have just spared some poor novice from becoming a teen mom." Adrian gave me a lopsided smile, his leg pressing against mine under the table; it was hard for me to keep my mind on scolding him when I was suddenly hyper aware of the heat of his body so close to mine.

"Where is Yeva? Did you lose her?"

"Nah—they're showing her the kitchen. She said for me to run along and stop hovering over her." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You should have woken me up last night—we had a date, remember?"

"I thought about it—more than once—but you looked completely exhausted. We'll make up for it later, yes?"

"We better. After watching you hand that guy his ass this morning… I'm feeling a little frisky."

I blushed, giggling. "Does that mean I should offer to spar with you sometime? We could get all hot and sweaty… then finish the match in the shower."

He made a sound low in his throat, arching his brows. "Definitely. In fact I think we should—"

"Viktoria… Johnson—Good morning. I'm glad I spotted you—I have those lists I mentioned yesterday. The ones of the students that—"Alberta stopped abruptly as I turned to face her. "What in the hell happened to your face?"

"Guardian Maclamore," I muttered, scowling.

"What?" Her expression shifted, anger slowly replacing the look of concern she'd been wearing. "He hit you?"

"He took offense at something I said and goaded me into sparring. I'll be fine—I've had worse." I reached up, carefully probing the area where he'd punched me—wondering exactly how bad it looked.

"Whether or not you've had worse isn't the issue—a staff guardian injuring a visitor to this campus is. I'll speak with him—"

"Please don't—it really was just a misunderstanding, I think."

"Yeah and she corrected it pretty fast." Adrian chuckled, trailing his fingertips along my arm—a gesture that made Alberta's eyebrows shoot towards the ceiling, her grey eyes flicking up from his hand to lock with mine. "He won't underestimate the next sweet Russian girl he meets—and he'll be walking funny for a few days."

Her lips twitched—just barely. "I see. Am I to assume he'll probably need someone to cover his patrol shift this evening?"

"I'd say it's a safe bet—" he deadpanned, "—unless he can ice his balls and walk at the same time."

"Don't forget… I took out his knee too," I pointed out.

"Do you feel up to observing the other novice classes I had scheduled for today? Not the training ones, of course, but the more academic ones?"

"Why does she need to observe academics? Math is math whether it's in Russia or Montana, right? It's pretty much a universal thing."

I smiled at his quip. "She means things like Theory and Surveillance and Communication—novice academics, not the other kind. I'm fine to attend those, I think, once I get some aspirin and ice my face… but I think it would be wise to avoid any classes that Maclamore takes part in."

"Understandable. Just shift around the schedule in whatever way works best for you—I realized this morning that I forgot to include the note I'd written that said as much in your packet."

"Thank you—that's good to know. I was wondering when I'd have time for the library when I saw how many classes you had me down for."

"If you tell me what books and information you need I can go to the library and copy it for you," Adrian offered, his gaze heavy as our eyes met; I immediately understood his thought process—it would give him a reason to be in the library so he could look through the books he and Lissa had found.

"That's very thoughtful of you Johnson." Alberta gave me a look—raising an eyebrow. "Not many men would volunteer for such a boring job."

"I was educated at home so I never got the whole Academy experience—it'll give me a chance to see what I missed, so it's not an entirely selfless offer." His eyes flicked between us, his brow furrowing.

"Be that as it may, it's still going out of your way." She smiled at him—then shot me another look. "I'll let the librarian know you have permission to be there—I need to get back to my office." She handed me a large file folder that was held closed with a rubber band. "That's all the information Mazur should need—those are the students who need the most help."

"This is wonderful, thank you. You just saved me quite a bit of work."

"It's probably a good thing—you look dead on your feet. Rest a few hours before you attempt any classes—I'd hate for you to fall asleep in the middle of a lecture." She winked, patting my shoulder as she took her leave.

"What in the hell was that about?"

"Hmmm?" I glanced up from the folder, arching a questioning brow.

"Those looks she was giving you—I've never seen her like that before." Adrian watched her move across the cafeteria as he took a sip of coffee.

"Oh—last night she gave me a talking to. She thinks I should let Guardian Johnson down easy."

He choked on the swallow he'd taken. "Excuse me?"

"Mhmm. She told me Dimitri had asked her to keep an eye on us and we started talking about him being overprotective. I sort of told her what happened at the dance… and she said I needed to let Johnson down easily because it was obvious he cared about me."

"So why would you have to let me down easy?"

"Because she could tell by the way I talked about you that I was pretty crazy about you."

"Me as in me… or me as in Johnson? God—this is getting confusing."

"You as in Adrian—and she said that you were wonderful and compassionate too."

His eyes widened dramatically. "Was she drunk?"

"No—she just happens to like you and see behind your mask," I teased, winking at him, "the same way I do."

He huffed, trying to look annoyed—but the way his lips curved up gave him away. "I think you're both imagining things."

"Nope, not at all." I smiled at him, pushing back my chair as I saw Yeva and Natalia approaching—lowering my voice to a whisper. "I hope you are very hungry Dusha… because dhampirs have big appetites and it looks like Natalia made enough for at least ten people.

He eyed the tray she set down on the table for a moment, then his eyes darted back up to my face. "Holy shit."

"Mhmmm… and a third of it is all yours, so dig in. We have a lot to do today."