“Is this the ring you—oh!” She wrapped her hand around it, her face growing enraptured.
“Can you feel the magic in it?” I asked.
“Yeah . . . it’s weak, but it’s in there.” She held the ring up to the light and stared at it. She probably wasn’t going to notice when I left because I had a feeling she’d be studying the ring all night. “It’s so strange. I can almost immediately feel how she did this.”
“Mark said we probably had a while to go before we could do the healing they do . . . but maybe you could figure out how to make charms while we wait?”
Her jade green eyes were still on the ring. “Yeah . . . I think I might.”
I smiled at her excitement and tried to leave again, but she caught my arm. “Hey . . . Rose . . . I know I’ll see you tomorrow, but . . .”
“But what?”
“I just wanted to say, after everything that’s happened . . . well, I don’t want us to ever have this kind of separation again. I mean, I know we can’t be together every single second—and that’s kind of creepy anyway—but we’re bonded for a reason. We’re meant to look out for each other and be there for each other.”
Her words sent a shiver through me, like we were wrapped in powers greater than ourselves. “We will be.”
“No, I mean . . . you’re always there for me. Every time, I’m in danger, and you come rushing in to save me. Not anymore.”
“You don’t want me to save you anymore?”
“That’s not what I meant! I want to be there for you too, Rose. If I can throw a punch, I can do anything. Even though that
really
hurt.” She exhaled in frustration. “God, I’m not making any sense. Look, the point is, if you ever have to go off alone, take me with you. Don’t leave me behind.”
“Liss—”
“I’m serious.” Her luminous beauty burned with determination and purpose. “Whatever obstacles you have to go against, I’m going to be there for you. Don’t go alone. Swear to me that if you ever decide to take off again, you’ll bring me. We’ll do it together.”
I started to protest as a million fears came to my mind. How could I risk her life? Yet looking at her, I knew she was right. For better or worse, we had a bond we couldn’t escape. Lissa was indeed tied to that piece of my soul, and we were stronger fighting together than apart.
“Okay,” I said, clasping her hand. “I swear it. The next time I go do something stupid that might get me killed, you can come along.”
THIRTY
A
LBERTA WAS WAITING FOR ME in the front office of the guardians’ administrative building. Alberta’s role as captain here was remarkable considering the lower numbers of women in our ranks. She was in her fifties and one of the toughest women I’d met. Her sandy hair was showing some gray, and years of working outdoors had weathered her skin.
“Welcome back, Rose,” she said, standing up at my approach. She certainly didn’t hug me, and her manner was businesslike, but the fact that she used my first name was a generous gesture for her. That, and I thought I saw a small spark of relief and happiness in her eyes. “Let’s go to my office.”
I’d never been there. Any disciplinary issues I had with the guardians were usually addressed in committee. Unsurprisingly, the office was spotless, everything arranged with military efficiency. We sat on opposite sides of her desk, and I braced myself for an interrogation.
“Rose,” she said, leaning toward me. “I’m going to be blunt with you. I’m not going to give you lectures or demand any explanations. Honestly, since you aren’t my student anymore, I don’t have the right to ask or tell you anything.”
It was like what Adrian had said. “You can lecture,” I told her. “I’ve always respected you and want to hear what you have to say.”
The ghost of a smile flashed on her face. “All right, here it is. You screwed up.”
“Wow. You weren’t kidding about bluntness.”
“The reasons don’t matter. You shouldn’t have left. You shouldn’t have dropped out. Your education and training are too valuable—no matter how much you think you know—and
you
are too talented to risk throwing away your future.”
I almost laughed. “To tell you the truth? I’m not sure what my future is anymore.”
“Which is why you need to graduate.”
“But I dropped out.”
She snorted. “Then drop back in!”
“I—what? How?”
“With paperwork. Just like everything else in the world.”
To be honest, I hadn’t known what I’d do once I got back here. My immediate concern was Lissa—to be with her and make sure she was okay. I knew I couldn’t officially be her guardian anymore, but I’d figured once we were together, no one could stop her from hanging out with a friend. I’d be her hired bodyguard, so to speak, kind of like what Abe had. And in the meantime, I’d bum around campus like Adrian.
But to enroll again?
“I . . . I missed a month. Maybe more.” My days were scattered. It was the first week of May, and I’d left near the end of March, on my birthday. What was that? Five weeks? Almost six?
“You missed two years and managed to catch up. I have faith in you. And even if you have trouble, graduating with low grades is better than not graduating at all.”
I tried to imagine myself back in this world. Had it really only been a little over a month? Classes . . . day-to-day intrigue . . . how could I just go back to that? How could I return to that life after seeing the way Dimitri’s family lived, after being with Dimitri and losing him—again.
Would he have said he loved me?
“I don’t know what to say,” I told Alberta. “This is kind of a lot to take in.”
“Well, you should decide quickly. The sooner you’re back in class, the better.”
“They’ll really let me?” That was the part I found a little unbelievable.
“
I’ll
let you,” she said. “No way am I letting someone like you get away. And now that Lazar is gone . . . well, things are crazy around here. No one’s going to give me much trouble in filing the paperwork.” Her wry smile slipped a little. “And if they do give us any trouble . . . I’ve been made to understand that you have a benefactor who can pull a few favors to smooth everything over.”
“A benefactor,” I repeated flatly. “A benefactor who wears flashy scarves and gold jewelry?”
She shrugged. “No one I know. Don’t even know his name—only that he’ll threaten to withhold a considerable donation to the school if you aren’t let back in.
If
you want in.”
Yeah. Deals and blackmail. I was pretty sure I knew who my benefactor was. “Give me some time to think about it. I’ll decide soon—I promise.”
She frowned, thoughtful, and then gave a sharp nod. “All right.”
We both stood up, and she walked me toward the building’s entrance. I glanced over at her. “Hey, if I do graduate . . . do you think there’s ever any way I could be in line to be Lissa’s guardian officially again? I know they’ve already picked out people for her and that I’m in, ah, a bit of disgrace.”
We stopped by the outer doors, and Alberta rested a hand on her hip. “I don’t know. We can certainly try. The situation’s gotten a lot more complicated.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said sadly, recalling Tatiana’s high-handed actions.
“But, like I said, we’ll do what we can. What I said about graduating with low grades? You won’t. Well, maybe in math and science—but that’s out of my control. You’ll be the best among the novices, though. I’ll work with you myself.”
“Okay,” I said, realizing what a concession that was on her part. “Thank you.”
I had just stepped outside when she called my name. “Rose?”
I caught the door and glanced back. “Yeah?”
Alberta’s face was gentle . . . something I’d never seen before. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Sorry for everything that happened. And that none of us could do anything about it.”
I saw in her eyes then that she knew about Dimitri and me. I wasn’t sure how. Maybe she’d heard it after the battle; maybe she’d guessed beforehand. Regardless, there was no chastisement in her face, only sincere sorrow and empathy. I gave her a brief nod of acknowledgment and went outside.
I found Christian the next day, but our conversation was brief. He was on his way to meet with some of his trainees and was running late. But he hugged me and seemed genuinely happy to have me back. It showed how far we’d come, considering the antagonistic relationship we’d had when we first met.
“About time,” he said. “Lissa and Adrian get the market share on worrying about you, but they’re not the only ones. And someone needs to put Adrian in his place, you know. I can’t do it
all
the time.”
“Thanks. It kills me to say this, but I missed you too. No one’s sarcasm compares to yours in Russia.” My amusement faded. “But since you mentioned Lissa—”
“No, no.” He held up his hand by way of protest, face hardening. “I
knew
you were going to go there.”
“Christian! She loves you. You know that what happened wasn’t her fault—”
“I know that,” he interrupted. “But it doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Rose, I know it’s in your nature to rush in and say what everyone else is afraid to, but please . . . not this time. I need time to figure things out.”
I had to bite back a lot of comments. Lissa had mentioned Christian in our talk yesterday. What had happened between them was one of her biggest regrets—probably the thing she hated Avery the most for. Lissa wanted to approach him and make up, but he’d kept his distance. And yes, he was right. It wasn’t my place to rush in—yet. But I did need them to fix this.
So I respected his wishes and simply nodded. “Okay. For now.”
My last words made his smile twist a little. “Thanks. Look, I’ve got to head off. If you ever want to show these kids how to kick ass the old-fashioned way, come by sometime. Jill would pass out if she saw you again.”
I told him I would and let him go on his way, seeing as I had places to be. No way was I finished with him, though.
I had a dinner date with Adrian and Lissa, up in one of the lounges in guest housing. Talking to Christian had made me late, and I hurried through the building’s lobby, barely taking note of my surroundings.
“Always in a rush,” a voice said. “It’s a wonder anyone can get you to stop moving.”
I came to a halt and turned, my eyes wide. “Mom . . .”
She stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed, with her cropped auburn hair as curly and messy as ever. Her face, weathered like Alberta’s from being out in the elements, was filled with relief and—love. There was no anger, no condemnation. I had never been so happy to see her in my life. I was in her arms in an instant, resting my head on her chest even though she was shorter than me.
“Rose, Rose,” she said into my hair. “Don’t ever do this again. Please.”
I pulled back and looked at her face, astonished to see tears spilling from her eyes. I had seen my mother tear up in the wake of the attack on the school, but never, never had I seen her outright cry. Certainly not over me. It made me want to cry too, and I uselessly tried to dry her face with Abe’s scarf.
“No, no, it’s okay. Don’t cry,” I said, taking on an odd role reversal. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I missed you so much.”
It was true. I loved Olena Belikova. I thought she was kind and wonderful and would cherish the memories of her comforting me about Dimitri and always going out of her way to feed me. In another life, she could have been my mother-in-law. In this one, I would always regard her as a kind of foster mother.
But she wasn’t my
real
mother. Janine Hathaway was. And standing there with her, I was happy—so, so happy—that I was her daughter. She wasn’t perfect, but no one was, as I was learning. She was, however, good and brave and fierce and compassionate—and I think she understood me more than I realized sometimes. If I could be half the woman she was, my life would be well spent.
“I was so worried,” she told me, recovering herself. “Where did you go—I mean, I know now you were in Russia . . . but why?”
“I thought . . .” I swallowed and again saw Dimitri with my stake in his chest. “Well, there was something I had to do. I thought I had to do it on my own.” I wasn’t sure about that last part now. True, I had accomplished my goal on my own, but I was realizing now how many people loved me and were with me. Who knew how differently things might have turned out if I’d asked for help? Maybe it would have been easier.
“I have a lot of questions,” she warned.
Her voice had toughened, and I smiled in spite of myself. Now she was back to the Janine Hathaway I knew. And I loved her for it. Her eyes flitted to my face and then to my neck, and I saw her stiffen. For a panicked moment, I wondered if Oksana had missed healing one of the bite marks. The thought of my mother seeing what I’d lowered myself to in Siberia made my heart stop.
Instead, she reached out and touched the bright colors of the cashmere scarf, her face filled with wonder as much as shock. “This . . . this is Ibrahim’s scarf . . . it’s a family heirloom. . . .”
“No, it belongs to this mobster guy named Abe. . . .”
I stopped as soon as the name crossed my lips. Abe. Ibrahim. Hearing them both out loud made me realize how similar they were. Abe . . . Abe was short for Abraham in English. Abraham, Ibrahim. There was only a slight variation in the vowels. Abraham was a common enough name in the U.S., but I’d heard Ibrahim only once before, spoken in scorn by Queen Tatiana when referring to someone my mother had been involved with. . . .
“Mom,” I said disbelievingly. “You know Abe.”
She was still touching the scarf, eyes filled with emotion once more—but a different kind than she’d had for me. “Yes, Rose. I know him.”
“Please don’t tell me . . .” Oh, man. Why couldn’t I have been an illegitimate half-royal like Robert Doru? Or even the mail-man’s daughter? “Please don’t tell me Abe is my father. . . .”
She didn’t have to tell me. It was all over her face, her expression dreamily recalling some other time and place—some time and place that had undoubtedly involved my conception. Ugh.