“Rose?”
Peering in the voice’s direction, I caught sight of Victor Dashkov, his kind face smiling at me as he leaned on a cane near the building’s wall. His two guardians stood nearby at a polite distance.
“Mr. Dash—er, Your Highness. Hi.”
I caught myself just in time, having nearly forgotten Moroi royal terms. I hadn’t used them while living among humans. The Moroi chose their rulers from among twelve royal families. The eldest in the family got the title of “prince” or “princess.” Lissa had gotten hers because she was the only one left in her line.
“How was your first day?” he asked.
“Not over yet.” I tried to think of something conversational. “Are you visiting here for a while?”
“I’ll be leaving this afternoon after I say hello to Natalie. When I heard Vasilisa—and you—had returned, I simply had to come see you.”
I nodded, not sure what else to say. He was more Lissa’s friend than mine.
“I wanted to tell you . . .” He spoke hesitantly. “I understand the gravity of what you did, but I think Headmistress Kirova failed to acknowledge something. You
did
keep Vasilisa safe all this time. That is impressive.”
“Well, it’s not like I faced down Strigoi or anything,” I said.
“But you faced down some things?”
“Sure. The school sent psi-hounds once.”
“Remarkable.”
“Not really. Avoiding them was pretty easy.”
He laughed. “I’ve hunted with them before. They aren’t
that
easy to evade, not with their powers and intelligence.” It was true. Psi-hounds were one of many types of magical creatures that wandered the world, creatures that humans never knew about or else didn’t believe they’d really seen. The hounds traveled in packs and shared a sort of psychic communication that made them particularly deadly to their prey—as did the fact that they resembled mutant wolves. “Did you face anything else?”
I shrugged. “Little things here and there.”
“Remarkable,” he repeated.
“Lucky, I think. It turns out I’m really behind in all this guardian stuff.” I sounded just like Stan now.
“You’re a smart girl. You’ll catch up. And you also have your bond.”
I looked away. My ability to “feel” Lissa had been such a secret for so long, it felt weird to have others know about it.
“The histories are full of stories of guardians who could feel when their charges were in danger,” Victor continued. “I’ve made a hobby of studying up on it and some of the ancient ways. I’ve heard it’s a tremendous asset.”
“I guess.” I shrugged.
What a boring hobby,
I thought, imagining him poring over prehistoric histories in some dank library covered in spiderwebs.
Victor tilted his head, curiosity all over his face. Kirova and the others had had the same look when we’d mentioned our connection, like we were lab rats. “What is it like—if you don’t mind me asking?”
“It’s . . . I don’t know. I just sort of always have this hum of how she feels. Usually it’s just emotions. We can’t send messages or anything.” I didn’t tell him about slipping into her head. That part of it was hard even for me to understand.
“But it doesn’t work the other way? She doesn’t sense you?”
I shook my head.
His face shone with wonder. “How did it happen?”
“I don’t know,” I said, still glancing away. “Just started two years ago.”
He frowned. “Near the time of the accident?”
Hesitantly, I nodded. The accident was
not
something I wanted to talk about, that was for sure. Lissa’s memories were bad enough without my own mixing into them. Twisted metal. A sensation of hot, then cold, then hot again. Lissa screaming over me, screaming for me to wake up, screaming for her parents and her brother to wake up. None of them had, only me. And the doctors said that was a miracle in itself. They said I shouldn’t have survived.
Apparently sensing my discomfort, Victor let the moment go and returned to his earlier excitement.
“I can still barely believe this. It’s been so long since this has happened. If it did happen more often . . . just think what it could do for the safety of all Moroi. If only others could experience this too. I’ll have to do more research and see if we can replicate it with others.”
“Yeah.” I was getting impatient, despite how much I liked him. Natalie rambled a lot, and it was pretty clear which parent she’d inherited
that
quality from. Lunch was ticking down, and although Moroi and novices shared afternoon classes, Lissa and I wouldn’t have much time to talk.
“Perhaps we could—” He started coughing, a great, seizing fit that made his whole body shake. His disease, Sandovsky’s Syndrome, took the lungs down with it while dragging the body toward death. I cast an anxious look at his guardians, and one of them stepped forward. “Your Highness,” he said politely, “you need to go inside. It’s too cold out here.”
Victor nodded. “Yes, yes. And I’m sure Rose here wants to eat.” He turned to me. “Thank you for speaking to me. I can’t emphasize how much it means to me that Vasilisa is safe—and that you helped with that. I’d promised her father I’d look after her if anything happened to him, and I felt like quite the failure when you left.”
A sinking sensation filled my stomach as I imagined him wracked with guilt and worry over our disappearance. Until now, I hadn’t really thought about how others might have felt about us leaving.
We made our goodbyes, and I finally arrived inside the school. As I did, I felt Lissa’s anxiety spike. Ignoring the pain in my legs, I picked up my pace into the commons.
And nearly ran right into her.
She didn’t see me, though. Neither did the people standing with her: Aaron and that little doll girl. I stopped and listened, just catching the end of the conversation. The girl leaned toward Lissa, who seemed more stunned than anything else.
“It looks to
me
like it came from a garage sale. I thought a precious Dragomir would have standards.” Scorn dripped off the word
Dragomir
.
Grabbing Doll Girl by the shoulder, I jerked her away. She was so light, she stumbled three feet and nearly fell.
“She does have standards,” I said, “which is why you’re done talking to her.”
FOUR
W
E DIDN’T HAVE THE ENTIRE commons’ attention this time, thank God, but a few passing people had stopped to stare.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” asked Doll Girl, blue eyes wide and sparkling with fury. Up close now, I was able to get a better look at her. She had the same slim build as most Moroi but not the usual height, which was partly what made her look so young. The tiny purple dress she wore was gorgeous—reminding me that I was indeed dressed in thrift-shop wear—but closer inspection led me to think it was a designer knockoff .
I crossed my arms across my chest. “Are you lost, little girl? The elementary school’s over on west campus.”
A pink flush spread over her cheeks. “Don’t you ever touch me again. You screw with me, and I’ll screw you right back.”
Oh man, what an opening that was. Only a head shake from Lissa stopped me from unleashing any number of hilarious comebacks. Instead, I opted for simple brute force, so to speak.
“And if you mess with either of us again, I’ll break you in half. If you don’t believe me, go ask Dawn Yarrow about what I did to her arm in ninth grade. You were probably at nap time when it happened.”
The incident with Dawn hadn’t been one of my finer moments. I honestly hadn’t expected to break any bones when I shoved her into a tree. Still, the incident had given me a dangerous reputation, in addition to my smartass one. The story had gained legendary status, and I liked to imagine that it was still being told around campfires late at night. Judging from the look on this girl’s face, it was.
One of the patrolling staff members strolled by right then, casting suspicious eyes at our little meeting. Doll Girl backed off, taking Aaron’s arm. “Come on,” she said.
“Hey, Aaron,” I said cheerfully, remembering he was there. “Nice to see you again.”
He gave me a quick nod and an uneasy smile, just as the girl dragged him off. Same old Aaron. He might be nice and cute, but aggressive he was not.
I turned to Lissa. “You okay?” She nodded. “Any idea who I just threatened to beat up?”
“Not a clue.” I started to lead her toward the lunch line, but she shook her head at me. “Gotta go see the feeders.”
A funny feeling settled over me. I’d gotten so used to being her primary blood source that the thought of returning to the Moroi’s normal routine seemed strange. In fact, it almost bothered me. It shouldn’t have. Daily feedings were part of a Moroi’s life, something I hadn’t been able to offer her while living on our own. It had been an inconvenient situation, one that left me weak on feeding days and her weak on the days in between. I should have been happy she would get some normality.
I forced a smile. “Sure.”
We walked into the feeding room, which sat adjacent to the cafeteria. It was set up with small cubicles, dividing the room’s space in an effort to offer privacy. A dark-haired Moroi woman greeted us at the entrance and glanced down at her clipboard, flipping through the pages. Finding what she needed, she made a few notes and then gestured for Lissa to follow. Me she gave a puzzled look, but she didn’t stop me from entering.
She led us to one of the cubicles where a plump, middle-aged woman sat leafing through a magazine. She looked up at our approach and smiled. In her eyes, I could see the dreamy, glazed-over look most feeders had. She’d probably neared her quota for the day, judging from how high she appeared to be.
Recognizing Lissa, her smile grew. “Welcome back, Princess.”
The greeter left us, and Lissa sat down in the chair beside the woman. I sensed a feeling of discomfort in her, a little different from my own. This was weird for her too; it had been a long time. The feeder, however, had no such reservations. An eager look crossed her face—the look of a junkie about to get her next fix.
Disgust poured into me. It was an old instinct, one that had been drilled in over the years. Feeders were essential to Moroi life. They were humans who willingly volunteered to be a regular blood source, humans from the fringes of society who gave their lives over to the secret world of the Moroi. They were well cared for and given all the comforts they could need. But at the heart of it, they were drug users, addicts to Moroi saliva and the rush it offered with each bite. The Moroi—and guardians—looked down on this dependency, even though the Moroi couldn’t have survived otherwise unless they took victims by force. Hypocrisy at its finest.
The feeder tilted her head, giving Lissa full access to her neck. Her skin there was marked with scars from years of daily bites. The infrequent feedings Lissa and I had done had kept my neck clear; my bite marks never lasted more than a day or so.
Lissa leaned forward, fangs biting into the feeder’s yielding flesh. The woman closed her eyes, making a soft sound of pleasure. I swallowed, watching Lissa drink. I couldn’t see any blood, but I could imagine it. A surge of emotion grew in my chest: longing. Jealousy. I averted my eyes, staring at the floor. Mentally, I scolded myself.
What’s wrong with you? Why should you miss it? You only did it once every day. You aren’t addicted, not like this. And you don’t want to be.
But I couldn’t help myself, couldn’t help the way I felt as I recalled the bliss and rush of a vampire’s bite.
Lissa finished and we returned to the commons, moving toward the lunch line. It was short, since we only had fifteen minutes left, and I strolled up and began to load my plate with french fries and some rounded, bite-size objects that looked vaguely like chicken nuggets. Lissa only grabbed a yogurt. Moroi needed food, as dhampirs and humans did, but rarely had an appetite after drinking blood.
“So how’d classes go?” I asked.
She shrugged. Her face was bright with color and life now. “Okay. Lots of stares. A
lot
of stares. Lots of questions about where we were. Whispering.”
“Same here,” I said. The attendant checked us out, and we walked toward the tables. I gave Lissa a sidelong glance. “You okay with that? They aren’t bothering you, are they?”
“No—it’s fine.” The emotions coming through the bond contradicted her words. Knowing I could feel that, she tried to change the subject by handing me her class schedule. I looked it over.
1
st
Period Russian 2
2
nd
Period American Colonial Literature
3
rd
Period Basics of Elemental Control
4
th
Period Ancient Poetry
—Lunch—
5
th
Period Animal Behavior and Physiology
6
th
Period Advanced Calculus
7
th
Period Moroi Culture 4
8
th
Period Slavic Art
“Nerd,” I said. “If you were in Stupid Math like me, we’d have the same afternoon schedule.” I stopped walking. “Why are you in elemental basics? That’s a sophomore class.”
She eyed me. “Because seniors take specialized classes.”
We fell silent at that. All Moroi wielded elemental magic. It was one of the things that differentiated living vampires from Strigoi, the dead vampires. Moroi viewed magic as a gift. It was part of their souls and connected them to the world.
A long time ago, they had used their magic openly, averting natural disasters and helping with things like food and water production. They didn’t need to do that as much anymore, but the magic was still in their blood. It burned in them and made them want to reach out to the earth and wield their power. Academies like this existed to help Moroi control the magic and learn how to do increasingly complex things with it. Students also had to learn the rules that surrounded magic, rules that had been in place for centuries and were strictly enforced.