Dear Diary,

I'm not ashamed to admit I broke down—I think anyone would when faced with the realization that they might be turning into the very thing they'd always feared. It was as if I'd confronted the monster under my bed, only to discover a mirror there, reflecting my own image back at me. As I cried, all the horrible memories that I kept locked away broke free—circling through my head to torment me. Brutal slaps given without warning, or reason. Being drug around by my hair, his hand pulling so hard that clumps tore free from my scalp. The pain of the belt biting into tender skin, coupled with the lash of acidic, hate filled words—telling me that I was ugly and dumb… that I didn't deserve to live.

He shattered me a thousand times with his cruelty, tearing me to shreds then stomping on the broken pieces of my soul with glee—yet despite all that he did to me, and how much I hated him… the thing that horrified me the most was the one simple truth I refused to admit. Deep down inside, a part of the bruised, battered little girl that I once was still lived on… longing for a gentle loving touch or a few words of kindness from the monstrous father who had abused her so barbarically.

In those moments, I was brought lower than I'd been in years—so low that I wanted nothing more than to just lay down and die. I cried until my throat was aching and raw—so sore that it actually hurt to draw breath into my lungs. Eventually, I suppose Adrian realized I wasn't behind him—he doubled back, only to find me curled up on the path in a defeated, demoralized heap. I was so lost in my despair that I didn't even realize he'd returned until he dropped down beside me, pulling me into his arms.

"Angel… what—"

"I…. I'm sorry," I choked out—my voice was raspy, making it hard to hear. "I didn't mean it."

"Shhh… I know, sweetheart… please… don't cry." His arms tightened around me—lips brushing against the top of my head.

I shook my head, peering at him—my eyes were so swollen it was hard to see. "You don't understand. It's a curse—I'll hurt the people I love, just like he did. That's why I said that awful, horrible thing to you."

His brow wrinkled. "Who, sweetheart? You're not making any sense—"

"My father." I choked on the words, hating them. "I was acting like him… not me."

"Vik, honey… you were just upset. We all say things we don't mean when we're pissed off—trust me, compared to some of the things people have hurled at me in the past, what you said was pretty mild."

"No, it's more than that—"

"It's not… you're just overwhelmed right now. You've been through a lot today, Angel." He gazed down at me for a moment, his brow wrinkling. "Vika… right before we started arguing… how were you feeling?"

I swiped at my cheeks, frowning. "I don't know… frustrated. Angry… hurt at hearing about the plans you'd made with her… why?"

"I'm going to try something… something with Spirit—"

"You can't! You're already—"

"I promise I'll drink from you as soon as we get to the plane, okay? That little bit you gave me helped a lot… the fuzziness is completely gone."

Before I could stop him, I felt a rush of warmth—instantly, pleasure tightened my body, chasing off the hopeless feelings that were drowning me; I closed my eyes, letting out a sigh of pure relief.

"Better?"

I opened my eyes, surprised to realize that not only was the hopelessness gone, but the crushing agony the memories had roused was absent too. "Yes… what did you—"

"Nothing really… just topped off your tank a little. The weird thing is… your Aura looked completely fine. I mean, besides the fact your emotions were all over the place. But the way you were acting…" His voice trailed off—he studied me, worrying his lip with his fang. "Sometimes when I get stressed, or overtired or upset… I get really depressed—Lissa gets that way too. Your Aura was full of the kind of emotions that are reflected in hers when she gets the urge to hurt herself."

I frowned, shaking my head. "I was upset because I acted like my father, Dusha—lashing out without thinking. It brought back bad memories, that's all. I wasn't depressed or—"

"The dark side of Spirit can bring out the worst in a person, Angel," he said softly, using his thumb to brush away the tears on my cheeks. "I'm not saying that's definitely what it was… I'm just saying that's what it looked like to me."

"I've never felt anything like that before… it was horrible—like I had no reason for living," I admitted. "All the things he used to say to me about being worthless… for the first time ever… I believed them. I believed that I would truly be better off dead."

"Well… you've never shared blood before, right?" He sat back on his heels, his eyes flicking to the empty air around me; whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him—the worried expression faded from his face.

"That's true, but Yeva said it wouldn't affect me, remember? Yin and yang—"

"A balancing act—I know. Don't you think the fact you feel better after I gave you a tiny bit of Spirit back plays into that theory?"

"She would have warned me, though—"

"Maybe it doesn't usually happen, Vik—maybe everything that's gone on in the last twenty-four hours sort of… I don't know… unbalanced the scale, somehow." He shrugged, running his fingers through his hair. "We'll figure it out—find a way to keep us both on even ground. We just haven't mastered the learning curve yet. And honestly? I think you missed an important part of what Yeva was trying to tell us."

"That can't be helped—if she didn't phrase things like the sphinx, it would be easier to understand what she says."

He shot me a confused look. "Huh?"

"Mysterious, cryptic riddles?" I smiled as his forehead furrowed up. "Didn't you have to study the classics in school?"

"Of course… but I've drunk away quite a few brain cells since then, Angel."

"Never mind… it doesn't matter—it was just a comparison. What is it that you seem to think I missed?"

"The filling an empty hole thing—it's like a circuit or something. If I take from you, it's bound to leave you low, right? So I have to give back—rinse and repeat, you know?"

I frowned. "An unending cycle… I guess that makes sense. Like Mark taking Oksa's darkness and her healing it out of him."

He nodded. "Sort of makes me wonder if that's why feeding off dhampirs became taboo."

Now it was my turn to be confused. "What do you mean?"

"When Liss and I were researching Spirit, we came across lots of old references to Spirit users gaining nourishment from their bond mates—so obviously it wasn't always considered a bad thing." He shrugged nonchalantly, scratching his head. "Maybe the reason it became so forbidden is because people were scared of Spirit users—you know… it was an attempt to keep them from balancing the darkness. It would be interesting to find out exactly when they started locking us up for going nuts… see how it correlates time wise with the taboos going into effect."

"You're overlooking something rather obvious, though. Surely some Spirit Users have bonded with Moroi—"

"Yeah, but they'd probably slide under everyone's radar. No one would suspect it because… well… that's considered a pretty major kink. We don't usually feed on each other—for one thing, there's no endorphin rush, so it's not particularly fun for the person getting bit… and we don't gain anything from the feeding. There's no human genes in our makeup—Moroi blood can't give us what we need."

"Oh… right." I blushed, feeling foolish.

"Even if you don't take Moroi bond mates into consideration, the taboo still wouldn't necessarily affect all of us—it wouldn't occur to people that 'nourishing' could be more than just blood—I mean… none of us realized Rose was sucking down Lissa's darkness until it was almost too late."

I sighed. "Maybe Yeva knows—"

"We can worry about it later. We've got enough going on and judging by your melt down, you can't handle any more right now, babe."

"You're right." Pulling away, I wiped my cheeks off on my sleeve. "Just remind me to write it down so we don't forget about it, okay?"

"So… we're good?" He reached over, stroking my cheek. "You're not mad about—"

"We're good on one condition—I'm going to come right out and ask you something and I want you to be completely honest with me when you answer. Good or bad—I can take it. I'd rather know the truth right now than to find out I was mistaken in the future."

He worried his lower lip with his fang for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Okay… as long as you understand you might not like my answer. I don't want to fight with you, Vik, or for you to get upset over the truth… but I'm not going to lie to you just to make you happy, either—Rose did that to me and I can tell you from experience… it sucks when you finally learn the truth."

"What was all that really about?" I didn't drop my gaze from his, though I wanted to—I had to force myself to face the fear that was nagging at my mind. "Because it sounded like you're having second thoughts about coming to Saint Basil's. If it's just a daydream… if it's not going to happen… I need to know."

He grimaced. "That's not it at all—but I still stand by the fact you can't skip class every time I feel a little bit crazy."

"Then what?"

"Seeing her like that… it made me think about how quickly things can change. One minute happy… then the next… bam—crazy town." His fingers laced through mine—he squeezed my hand gently, looking absolutely miserable. "It makes me feel like… I don't know… a helpless victim, and I hate that more than anything—it stirs up some really bad memories. When I confronted Rose about what she'd done with your brother… she hurled the fact I acted like a victim in my face. It hurt, you know? It was like getting stabbed in the heart."

"She shouldn't have said that—"

"Yeah well—"

"Hush—let me finish. Spirit's effect on you… it's like a mental illness, Dusha—it is something you have no more control over than I do of having the sight, I get where she was coming from… but for her to say it like that… it was a very low blow." I frowned, playing with his fingers—searching for the right words to soothe away the sting of Roza's careless cruelty. "For a very long time I have hated the dreams I get… they make me feel powerless and out of control. I've been scared of people finding out about them and thinking I'm a freak—I've hidden it down as deep as I can. That is why no one in my family but Yeva knows about them."

"You said it yourself Angel—it's not your fault," he said softly.

"But it is my fault that I chose to sit back and do nothing instead of trying to learn how to master it—that's the point I'm trying to make here. I let my fear control me… I let it make me a victim." I glanced over at him, wondering if he understood what I meant.

He was silent for a moment. "You're saying it's my fear of going insane that makes me feel helpless… not the instability itself."

"Exactly. I'm not saying it isn't a scary thing Dusha… but there is a big difference in acknowledging something and just accepting it. I'm saying that maybe if you decide to fight against that fear… you will show Roza that you're not a victim—you're someone learning to survive with an incurable disability. That is a very different thing." I shrugged, lifting his hand up and pressing my lips against his palm. "That is what I want… to be considered a survivor rather than a victim. I don't want something I fear to have that much control over my life."

He didn't say anything; I sighed, reaching over to stroke his cheek. "Besides… you and I both know that Roza speaks without taking time to consider how her words might affect other people. She doesn't do it maliciously… she just doesn't have… I don't know… a filter, or something. She doesn't stop to think that what she's trying to say might come across hurtfully or that there might be a more diplomatic way to get her point across."

Still no response—he just stared out into the trees, seemingly lost in the scenery; I chewed at the corner of my lower lip, wondering if I'd said too much—inadvertently deepening to wond Roza had made instead of smoothing it over.

"Are you…" he stopped, clearing his throat. "Do you think that's what she meant that day?"

"Well… I wasn't there Dusha. You can't take one comment and break it down without knowing the whole conversation—things said before or after have some bearing on the meaning. Like when you're reading scripture, you know? You can't just read one single passage and claim to understand the meaning of the entire chapter. But based on other things that I have heard her say… I think that in her own convoluted, brash way… she was trying to tell you that you have a choice in the matter, but you refused to take responsibility."

"She said that being a victim meant I was powerless—that I wouldn't take action, and that was the difference between us. That she'd always done something to fight for herself or other people… and that was something I never did." His voice was hollow sounding—it was obvious the words still had power over him, cutting him to the core.

I couldn't stop myself from making a face. "Perhaps she should have remembered that she has a weak spot too, Dusha. She was very much a victim when she stayed with us in Baia—the loss of my brother left her a broken, fragile thing. When she spoke at his memorial… it was like looking at the shell of a person. Honestly… I did not meet the real Roza—the one you and my brother know—until they came to visit us after his restoration. The one I knew was drifting along aimlessly, not fighting for anything. I think…no… never mind." I cut myself off, afraid I might anger him if I kept on.

"Don't leave me hanging like that Vik—believe it or not, I actually value your opinion. It's funny… but I actually trust your judgement on this more than I trust my own."

I fidgeted, shifting from one foot to the other—nervous to speak my mind. "I think that deep down… perhaps a part of you is more upset that she wasn't completely honest with you than you are about the cheating."

To give him credit, he didn't scoff at the notion, or even deny it outright—he actually seemed to consider what I'd said, weighing its merit in his mind. "You know… you could be right. I was pissed off about her fucking Belikov while we were together… and it hurt—but the fact she didn't tell me made it a hundred times worse, because I gave her plenty of chances to come clean about her feelings. I asked her outright if I should worry and she told me no, they were through. I would have been mad if she'd told me the truth… and it still would have hurt… but not nearly as much. I mean… I would have lost a girlfriend, but still had my friend once the bad feelings had passed. But her hiding things and lying to me…. It was like… I don't know… I felt like she didn't care about me at all—she didn't consider me… our friendship… important enough to matter. It was like I was completely disposable to her."

"But she did care, Adrian… don't you see? I think that is the exact reason why she didn't tell you—she was afraid of losing you completely." I said softly, thinking about my talk with Yeva on the plane. "Try to put yourself in her shoes for a moment—Roza has never had any really close relationships with anyone other than Lissa. Her whole life has been lived under the shadow of the things her parents did—think about what it would be like to be abandoned at such a young age. To have a mother and father out there… and to be forced to live with the knowledge that they did not care enough to even visit you. I'm guilty of overlooking that too—Yeva had to point it out to me, and it made me feel very ashamed for not considering it before. Things like that… they plant themselves deeply in our subconscious as we grow, affecting us forever. I think Roza will always have abandonment issues the same way I will always struggle with never feeling like I am good enough—"

"Hold up—what does that mean?"

I blushed. "My father hated the sight of me. He thought I was a homely, stupid little child—nothing I ever did pleased him. So no matter what I accomplish… I always feel insecure. A part of me always feel like that idiotic, ugly little girl."

"Your father is a fucking idiot," he said fiercely. "You are a beautiful, kind, talented woman—"

"But that's just it, Dusha… I don't feel that way. I don't feel pretty or skilled—I feel plain and unremarkable. Deep down I feel like if my own father could not love me, no one else will—and I think Roza suffers something similar. She feels like in the end, everyone will abandon her, because if her own parents didn't love her enough to keep her… no one else will either."

He fell silent again, his brow crinkling as he stared down at the path beneath our feet. "You think that's why she's been such a bitch to me? My reacting the way I did sort of… triggered her issues?"

"I do. She lost one of the people she was closest to, Dusha—her natural instinct is to lash out and be… well… bitchy," I said honestly. "I know for a fact that she is still hurting over it… remember what she said at lunch? And Abe said as much too—he asked me to try and patch things up between the two of you if I could."

"Maybe it's past time she and I sat down and tried to talk things out." He sighed, squeezing my hand.

"It will be a good thing for both of you—as long as you go into it prepared. Remember she will be defensive and argumentative—that's just her way, yes?"

"Trust me—I'm used to the less endearing parts of her personality," he muttered, releasing my hand. "Her personality didn't scare me off when I was trying to win her over… I won't let it interfere with my attempt to mend fences."

I frowned, trying to ignore the twinge of unease that tightened my stomach into a painful knot—mentally chastising myself for feeling anxious at the thought of Roza coming back into his life; it was ridiculous for me to feel jealous when I was the one convincing him to make amends—I could acknowledge that, and own it… but that still didn't magically make the bad feelings go away.

"We should probably get a move on before they send out a search party—Yeva is probably having a fit at being kept waiting," he joked, sliding his arm around my shoulder and steering me along the path. "I can hear her now, bitching and moaning about the rudeness of the young."

His words pulled me out of my thoughts—I forced a laugh, trying to pretend there was nothing wrong. "Petrov is probably wanting to throttle us right about now. I don't think she'll be inviting me back to the Academy any time soon."

"Just as well—I think I've had enough of this place to last a lifetime. Too many bad memories." His arm tightened around my shoulder; I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder as we walked.

"A few good ones too—like breaking desks and things," I teased lightly—smiling when he chuckled in response.

"That's definitely at the top of my 'good memory' list—" He pressed his lips against the top of my head. "—closely followed by the look on Allie's face when she caught us. Talk about priceless—"

"Do you think she'll really keep quiet about it?" I asked softly, straightening up—a new worry firmly taking root in the back of my mind. "The last thing I need is Dimitri hearing about—"

"She won't tell, Vik. She may bluster and huff and act tough as nails… but deep down I think she's a romantic at heart."

"Mhmmm… you know… she told me we shouldn't be sneaking around… that it makes it look like we're ashamed or something." I glanced over at him, frowning. "She thinks we should be upfront with my brother instead of hiding behind the Guardian Johnson thing."

"Shame has nothing to do with it," he said, scoffing at the thought. "It's more along the lines of avoiding me ending up in a full body cast… or worse."

I glanced over at him, frowning. "I hope you know that if it came down to it… no matter how much I love my brother, I wouldn't stand by and let him hurt you, Dusha—and I seriously doubt my grandmother would either. He might still fight me in an attempt to get at you, but he's smart enough not to even attempt that with Yeva—and not just because of her age, either."

"It's hard for me to grasp the concept of your giant brother being scared of a little old lady," he admitted—his grin betraying how amusing he found the idea.

"She has always been the authority figure in our house. We never went to Mama for permission about things… it was Yeva who had the final say." I shrugged—struggling to find the words to explain the dynamics of our family. "Mama was always loving, and took care of us…but she was… hmmm… distant, at times—wrapped up in her own problems, you know? Her life wasn't exactly easy—Yeva filled her role for her, picking up the slack and taking responsibility for running the house and pretty much raising us most of the time."

"I never really had that—someone keeping me in line, I mean. My parents just froze me out when I did something they didn't approve of. My father's idea of discipline was threatening to cut me off." He stopped for a moment to light a cigarette—looking a little wistful. "Maybe if he'd been a little more like your grandma, I wouldn't be such a fucking mess."

His offhanded comment about his parents sparked something in my mind; I stared out at the forest around us, trying to latch onto what it was—frowning as it clicked into place. "You know… I just realized there is one other aspect where I've let my fear get the upper hand… and I don't know if I'll ever be able to control it."

"Being disciplined by Yeva?" He asked, his smile widening. "Afraid she'll put you over her knee and paddle you?"

"No… my relationship with Dimitri."

His brow wrinkled—smile fading away instantly. "You mean… because of being involved with me?"

"No… not really—it goes much deeper than just that. Since I've come to America… I've seen a side of him that I never knew existed. In some ways… he can be very controlling… and it scares me." I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to ward off the uneasiness I was feeling in the wake of my realization. "It reminds me a lot of our father and the way he used to act."

"I've got plenty of issues with your brother, Vik, but I have to point out the obvious—I don't think he'd ever resort to physical violence with you."

"I know this… but there are other ways to hurt a person, Dusha. I guess I'm not explaining myself very well, am I?" I ducked my head down, hiding my face—a ridiculous attempt to hide my mixed up emotions. "I think perhaps you would have to know my father to understand what I mean."

"If there's one thing I understand it's controlling, overbearing fathers, sweetheart—trust me."

"Whenever he was disappointed or irritated by something my sisters did that displeased him… he would completely shut down, ignoring them for days… sometimes weeks at a time." I said softly, glancing up at him. "Your comment about your parents freezing you out reminded me of this—it made me realize that perhaps Dimitri might respond the same way. That is what scares me… the thought of Dimitri cutting ties with me if I fail to obey him and do what he wants."

"You said your sisters… I take it he didn't give you and your brother the cold shoulder?" He asked softly.

A dismissive noise escaped me before I could catch it. "I disappointed him every time I drew a breath, Dusha—he fluctuated between ignoring me and using me as a means to vent his anger. Believe me when I say I relished the times when he acted like I did not exist. It was different for the others—he was genuinely fond of Karo and Sonya… and proud of Dimitri for being a big, strong boy. Though at times… that pride was not enough to protect my brother from being beat up too." I sighed, swiping at my eyes before the hot tears gathering in them could fall. "My point is that if my brother shut me out like that… it would destroy me, I think."

"I'd say the chances of Dimitri pulling that crap are slim to none, Angel—for one thing… it's obvious he adores you. And having experienced that kind of treatment firsthand…" he shook his head. "He'll remember how much it hurts."

Something in the tone of his voice betrayed him—a hint of sadness that expressed that his parent's actions had cut him deeply, no matter how much he might refuse to acknowledge it. "I'm sorry… I shouldn't have said anything. I didn't mean to upset you—"

"Don't be—I'm not upset… not really. I've outgrown the need for Nathan's approval and acceptance, Angel. I figured out that my father thinks I'm a disappointment a long time ago—he wanted a carbon copy of himself and got an addled brained artist instead and he hated it. But I was lucky… Aunt Tati more than made up for what I lacked at home. She could be a real hard ass at times, but at least I knew she loved me unconditionally—that's all that matters in the end."

"I am sure that deep down your parents do too," I said, soothingly, "perhaps they just don't know how to show it, or—"

"Yeah right. If my mother loves me so much then why hasn't she had any contact with me since they took her away?" It was a mutter, almost under his breath; the haunted look that flickered across his face tore at my heart.

"Maybe they won't let her—did you consider that?" I asked softly.

"She's talked to my father and my Uncle, Vik—so obviously they aren't stopping her from making calls. I just don't rank high enough on her list of priorities to matter."

"Well… I'm not your mother, but I can tell you this—I wanted very much to see you while they had me locked up in that wretched little room. I was worried about how the situation would affect you," I offered.

He glanced over at me, his lips curving up in the faintest hint of a smile. "I never doubted that for a minute, Angel—you're a lot like Aunt Tati in that aspect."

"Tell me more about her, please," I coaxed—an attempt to steer the subject matter to far happier things. "I don't really know much about her at all—only what they teach us in school."

"She was an amazing woman." His lips twitched up in an impish grin. "She didn't hide her feelings the way most Royals do—if she didn't like a person she'd make sure they damned well knew it. Just ask Rose—they were constantly butting heads."

Rolling my eyes, I couldn't stop myself from making a face. "That's not what I meant at all, Dusha! Tell me something personal about her… you know… like a favorite memory."

He chuckled, dropping the butt of his cigarette and grounding it out with his foot. "That's a hard one… there's way too many to pick just one. It's kind of hard to narrow it down to just one thing, sweetheart—she tended to spoil me. Private art lessons, lavish birthday parties… Christmas—one year she even had a member of the Royal Guard dress up as Santa Claus and sneak into my room to surprise me. Hell… one time when I was really upset, she even knitted something for my imaginary friend to calm me down."

"You had an imaginary friend?" My voice betrayed my surprise at the notion.

"Sure… don't most kids?"

"I guess I just assumed you'd have too many real friends to need a pretend one." I shrugged, my cheeks heating with embarrassment. "I suppose I thought it was something only lonely children did."

"I take it you didn't have one? Seeing as you have a big family—"

"Actually, I did. I was the youngest—when they went to school… I was left all alone." I smiled, remembering how I used to sneak away to play in the meadow—the only place that my imaginary playmate ever appeared. "She was very, very beautiful—she called me Katya. I remember she used to spend hours playing with my hair... it made me feel so special that someone older wanted to spend time doing such a thing—perhaps because Karolina and Sonya always acted like I was such a pest."

"Huh. Mine never touched me… never even spoke to me—in fact… once I woke up… I couldn't even remember what it looked like. I'd just know I'd had a weird dream and it involved another kid. I guess I was a little screwed up even back then—even my imaginary friend wasn't normal, like everyone else's."

I scowled, elbowing him in the side. "You're not 'screwed up'… you are creative. Artists are supposed to be a little unconventional, yes?"

"If unconventional is a polite way of saying a little touched in the head… yes." He smirked at the exasperated sigh I heaved. "Sorry Vik, facts are facts—you're involved with a nut job."

"No—I am involved with an extremely talented, kind man who is a bit… eclectic," I said firmly—shooting him a look that dared him to disagree.

"Eclectic… hmmm… I think I like that. Though I'm pretty sure that ninety nine point nine percent of the people at Court would say that's way too mild a term—"

"Viktoria Belikova?"

We both flinched in surprise—our heads jerking in the direction of the deep, rumbling voice; I flushed, embarrassed at being so wrapped up in our banter that I'd been caught completely off guard. "Yes—I am Viktoria."

"I apologize—I did not mean to startle you. I thought you might have gotten lost. Petrov has called the garage three times, wondering what the holdup is." The Guardian's eyes flicked between Adrian and me. "Everything alright?"

The wary expression on the man's face made me wonder if it was evident I'd been crying; thanks to Adrian's healing my eyes didn't feel tired and achy the way they usually did when I broke down, but that didn't necessarily mean they weren't puffy or red. "We—"

"It's my fault entirely." Adrian cut me off smoothly, flashing a charismatic smile. "Some of us aren't cut out for hiking through the wilderness."

"The road is just around the bend… just about five yards or so from here—I have a car waiting if you can make it that far," the Guardian shot back, his lips twitching.

"I think I can manage."

"Good. I'd hate to have to carry you—my back's been acting up." His eyes moved over to me, his gaze locking with mine. "Your brother is adjusting well to life at Court? No one is giving him trouble, I hope?"

The comment caught me off guard. "Not that I know of… why?"

"A few of the staff members here have made comments that weren't appropriate about his… mentoring Rose Hathaway." His jaw tightened—an almost imperceptible sign of tension that didn't escape my notice. "I set them straight about the issue. Dimitri was a good instructor—that is all that matters."

I didn't dare speculate on what the gossip might be—the last thing I needed to hear were lewd things about my brother's love life. "Thanks you… I am sure he would appreciate that Guardian…?"

"Pulzky—Thomas Pulzky." The man grinned, holding out his hand—jerking his head towards the trail behind him. "We should head for the car—I have patrol in less than an hour."

"Of course—I am sorry you had to come looking for us," I said as we fell into step behind him.

"Not a problem—it's nice to have an excuse to leave the guard booth for a while." He glanced over at me, his smile widening. "You might tell your brother that I still have the books he loaned me—I'll be sure to bring them the next time I visit court."

"I would be glad to, but you could always just give them to Guardian Petrov," I offered. "She has been storing his things and I am sure he will be making arrangements to have them shipped."

"Maybe he wants an excuse to escape for a few days." Adrian draped his arm around my shoulder again, pulling me a little closer to his side. "In case you haven't figured it out, there's not a lot of entertainment here, Vik."

"Actually, I'll take that suggestion—I would much rather spend my free time visiting my family than dealing with the hassles of Court," Pulzky said.

"Hassles?" I arched a brow, confused by the statement.

"I would be expected to join the patrol rotation during my stay—not exactly a relaxing way to spend my time off."

I frowned. "That hardly seems fair—"

"It is what it is." He shrugged. "The Guardians at Court are far more overworked than many of us—it gives them a chance to lessen their workload for a few days. I am simply selfish—I have three small sons I don't see often enough to suit me."

"Three! That must be quite a handful—my nephew runs us all ragged and there's only one of him."

"You aren't entirely wrong. They can be little devils—always getting into mischief. I think my sister will be extremely happy when they start school next year—it will give her a break from their antics." He chuckled, flashing a proud smile. "She was prepared to raise one—the fact they were triplets surprised everyone, especially my former charge. Hopefully for her sake her next guardian is less fertile than me."

I was shocked by his candor—Adrian, on the other hand, burst out laughing. "You don't seem too put out at being replaced."

Pulzky smirked. "Why should I be? Our arrangement was that she would give me a child for my service—quite a bargain that I got three for the price of one."

Their amusement was contagious; I smiled, shaking my head. "I would have to agree."

"In all honesty, I was glad to be reassigned here—my sister lives in a small commune about an hour from Missoula so I can drive there on my off days, and when the boys start school I will have the privilege of seeing them every day. That is far more than most Guardians are able to do." We'd reached the car—he opened the back door, gesturing us inside.

"You are a very lucky man," I said, climbing into the backseat—scooting over to make room for Adrian, "and they are lucky to have a father who wants to do his part in raising them."

"And an Auntie who loves them no matter how much mischief they create." He winked, climbing into the front seat.

Though Pulzky kept up a stream of good natured conversation as he drove us to the airstrip, the truth was that I barely heard a word he said; our conversation about his children had left me somewhat melancholic—I could not help but compare the vast difference between their upbringing and my own and being extremely envious of the differences. Their father was clearly devoted to them—never would they suffer cruel slaps or brutal beatings; like my sisters, they would be adored and loved by the man who'd sired them—they wouldn't be treated like whipping boys or called horrible, ugly things.

My silent withdrawal meant that Adrian was forced to carry the conversation for both of us; as if he sensed my inner turmoil, he automatically stepped up, filling the void left by my silence. He did an admirable job of intercepting and fielding any comments aimed my way—though he kept glancing over at me in a speculative sort of way. I shook my head, flicking my eyes towards the front seat—trying to indicate that it wasn't the right time for explanations, but unfortunately, he didn't take my silent hint.

"You okay?" He asked softly, reaching for my hand.

"I'm fine… just wondering if Dimitri has heard about everything that's happened. If so… I am sure he must be fretting something fierce."

He made a face, catching the lie in my words, but he was smart enough to realize that it wasn't meant for him—it was for the man in the front seat.

"Easy enough to fix that. Here." Pulzky shifted, pulling a cell phone out of his pocket and holding it over his shoulder.

I made a face, hesitantly reaching out to take it from his hand. "It is a bit more complicated than just that… he isn't going to be pleased that Lord Ivashkov is here with me. Dimitri can be a little bit… overprotective, at times."

"As an older brother… I suppose I can understand that." Pulzky's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror—they were full of unasked questions; thankfully, he wisely chose to keep them to himself. "My advice? Go ahead and get it over with. Better that he have a few hours to come to terms with it before you land that to be surprised by it when you step off the plane, don't you think?"

"True… though he might also use that time to plot out how he's going dismantle me one piece at a time," Adrian pointed out.

"I seriously doubt that—Dimitri would never attack a Royal before witnesses," Pulzky countered, smirking. "He's far too controlled for that."

"You might be surprised," I muttered, thinking about my brother's behavior the night of Lissa's party. Mentally calculating the time difference, I punched in Dimitri's number—hoping he was already awake. Obviously I was wrong—he didn't pick up until the fifth ring, his voice thick with sleep.

"Belikov." Despite the fact I'd clearly woken him, he sounded completely professional; automatically my stomach clenched—I wasn't used to hearing him sound so formal.

"Dimitri?" I am sorry… I didn't mean to wake you—"

"Vika? Hold on."

I heard him murmur something—a moment later, he was back, sounding far more like the Dimitri I was used to. "Where are you?"

"I am still at Saint Vladimir's—no one called you?" Hope flared up inside me—I wanted him to learn the news from me first, not through idle gossip.

"No… why?" Confusion colored his words.

"Before I tell you… I want you to swear to me that you will be reasonable and listen without dramatics."

He was silent for a moment. "I am never dramatic—"

"I mean it Dimitri—I have been through a lot at this horrible Academy and I need your support right now… not your anger."

"Viktoria—"

"You will swear it or I'm hanging up!"

He sighed. "Fine. I swear—"

"On your love for Roza," I amended.

"If you want me to listen calmly then you'd best spit it out little sister—the longer you stall the tenser I am becoming."

"I was detained by the Guardians—they locked me up for striking a Royal." I blurted it out, counting on the fact that it would shock him so much that the rest of my news would seem mild by comparison.

"I see… I assume you had a good reason for this, yes?" His voice was flat, holding a dangerous undertone—one that I prayed was directed at the staff of the Academy and not towards me.

"He was using compulsion to get a novice to do… indecent things, Mitya." I took a deep breath, glancing over at Adrian—he squeezed my hand supportively. "When I confronted him he said that no one could stop him. He's a Spirit user."

"How do you—"

"I know a Spirit user when I see one Dimitri Belikov—I've spent a lot of time with Oksa when I visit home."

"Ahhh… of course. I'm sorry." He sighed. "We need to tell Lissa immediately—"

"She knows… it's really all too complicated to get into now and I don't want to take advantage of Guardian Pulzky's generous offer to use his phone—"

"I was wondering who's number this was—"

"I had to borrow it—Guardian Amanar needed mine to take photographs of the body—" As soon as the words slipped out of my mouth, I winced, wanting them back.

"What body?"

"Remember your promise, Dimitri—"

"Viktoria—"

"The Moroi student who went missing the night of the attack. I… um… sort of accidentally found her body." I said softly.

"The… attack…" He sounded strange—almost haunted; my heart twisted in my chest as I mentally cursed my idiotic slip up. "Where was it, Vika?"

"In the cave," I whispered.

"You didn't… please, tell me you didn't—" His voice trembled—I heard a soft sort of thud, followed by a broken moan.

"Dimitri? Dimitri! Talk to me—"

"What the hell did you say to him?" Roza's shout was so loud that I had to move the phone away from my ear—her voice full of fire and brimstone.

"We went to the cave, Roza," I said, fighting to speak around the lump that was forming in my throat. "I didn't intend to mention it—it slipped out. Please tell him—"

"I'm not telling him anything," she hissed, "you've already done enough fucking damage for one day!"

"That's not fair, Roza! I… hello?" Scowling, I held the phone away from my ear again—my eyes flicking from the screen to Adrian's face. "She hung up on me!"

"Should I fake being surprised? Come on Vik—this is Rose we're talking about. When it comes to your brother, she's more protective than one of Alto's Grizzly bears."

"I was going to tell him you were here. I mean… not about the Johnson thing—just that you're on campus. Before he hears it second hand and starts assuming the worst."

"Too late now—I doubt she'll let him near the phone again anytime soon," he muttered, taking it out of my hand and leaning over the seat to pass it back to Guardian Pulzky.

"I wouldn't worry too much about any of the staff telling him, Novice Belikova." He glanced back at me, flashing a reassuring smile. "He hasn't really kept in touch with anyone other than Petrov—and even if he had… your brother was an intensely private man when he was here. I can't think of anyone who would feel comfortable calling him about such a thing."

"Even you?" I asked, eyeing him—not bothering to attempt to disguise the suspicion in my voice.

"It's not my business," he said, bluntly. "You aren't a student here—your personal life and acquaintances are no concern of mine."

"Truth," Adrian whispered, his eyes flicking from the front seat to me. "He means it."

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it." Pulzky sounded put out at the implication he might lie.

"Sorry, I needed to make sure before I attempted to distract her from fretting over her giant brother." Adrian grinned, sliding his arm around my shoulders—tugging me closer across the bench seat. "I'd suggest keeping your eyes on the road Pulzky… if you catch my drift."

I blushed at the guardian's appreciative chuckle. "Certainly, Lord Ivashkov… but I'd suggest you make it quick if you don't want an audience—we're almost there."

"Some things," Adrian said, smiling as he tilted my chin up, "can't be rushed, man."

He closed the distance between our lips with a torturous slowness that left me trembling—then finally, his lips were on mine and it was completely impossible for me to think about anything at all other than the thrilling tingle that raced throughout my body.

When it comes to distraction techniques, the simplest things are the ones that work the best—or perhaps it's just that Adrian's kisses have a magic all their own; in the end, I can say one thing with definite surety—the mechanics behind the reason didn't matter one bit. The only thing I cared about was the Moroi holding me in his arms.

Everything else... could wait.