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"Aren't you supposed to go straight to your room?"
I hunkered down in my seat, glancing around warily. "There are so many people here today, it'll take them a while to notice me. God, I'm so sick of being locked away. And it's only been a week."
"I'm sick of it too. We missed you last night. A bunch of us went and shot pool in the rec room. Eddie was on fire."
I groaned. "Don't tell me that. I don't want to hear about your glamorous social life."
"All right." He propped his elbow up on the table and rested his chin in his hand. "Then tell me about Mia. You're just going to turn around and punch her one day, aren't you? I think I remember you doing that at least ten times with people that pissed you off."
"I'm a new, reformed Rose," I said, doing my best impression of demure. Which wasn't very good. He emitted a choking sort of laugh. "Besides, if I do that, I'll have broken my probation with Kirova. Gotta walk the straight and narrow."
"In other words, find some way to get back at Mia that you won't get in trouble for."
I felt a smile tug at the corners of my lips. "You know what I like about you, Mase? You think just like I do."
"Frightening concept," he replied drily. "So tell me what you think of this: I might know something about her, but I probably shouldn't tell you..."
I leaned forward. "Oh, you already tipped me off. You've got to tell me now."
"It'd be wrong," he teased. "How do I know you'd use this knowledge for good instead of evil?"
I batted my eyelashes. "Can you resist this face?"
He took a moment to study me. "No. I can't, actually. Okay, here you go: Mia isn't royal."
I slouched back in my chair. "No kidding. I already knew that. I've known who's royal since I was two."
"Yeah, but there's more than just that. Her parents work for one of the Drozdov lords." I waved my hand impatiently. A lot of Moroi worked out in the human world, but Moroi society had plenty of jobs for its own kind too. Someone had to fill them. "Cleaning stuff. Practically servants. Her dad cuts grass, and her mom's a maid."
I actually had a healthy respect for anyone who pulled a full day's work, regardless of the job. People everywhere had to do crappy stuff to make a living. But, much like with Target, it became another matter altogether when someone was trying to pass herself off as something else. And in the week that I'd been here, I'd picked up on how desperately Mia wanted to fit in with the school elite.
"No one knows," I said thoughtfully.
"And she doesn't want them to. You know how the royals are." He paused. "Well, except for Lissa, of course. They'd give Mia a hard time over it."
"How do you know all this?"
"My uncle's a guardian for the Drozdovs."
"And you've just been sitting on this secret, huh?"
"Until you broke me. So which path will you choose: good or evil?"
"I think I'll give her a grace - "
"Miss Hathaway, you know you aren't supposed to be here."
One of the dorm matrons stood over us, disapproval all over her face.
I hadn't been joking when I said Mason thought like me. He could bullshit as well as I could. "We have a group project to do for our humanities class. How are we supposed to do it if Rose is in isolation?"
The matron narrowed her eyes. "You don't look like you're doing work."
I slid over the priest's book and opened it at random. I'd placed it on the table when we sat down. "We're, um, working on this."
She still looked suspicious. "One hour. I'll give you one more hour down here, and I'd better actually see you working."
"Yes, ma'am," said Mason straight-faced. "Absolutely."
She wandered off, still eyeing us. "My hero," I declared.
He pointed at the book. "What is this?"
"Something the priest gave me. I had a question about the service."
He stared at me, astonished.
"Oh, stop it and look interested." I skimmed the index. "I'm trying to find some woman named Anna."
Mason slid his chair over so that he was sitting right beside me. "All right. Let's 'study.' "
I found a page number, and it took me to the section on St. Vladimir, not surprisingly. We read through the chapter, scanning for Anna's name. When we found it, the author didn't have much to say about her. He did include an excerpt written by some guy who had apparently lived at the same time as St. Vladimir:
And with Vladimir always is Anna, the daughter of Fyodor. Their love is as chaste and pure as that of brother and sister, and many times has she defended him from Strigoi who would seek to destroy him and his holiness. Likewise, it is she who comforts him when the spirit becomes too much to bear, and Satan's darkness tries to smother him and weaken his own health and body. This too she defends against, for they have been bound together ever since he saved her life as a child. It is a sign of God's love that He has sent the blessed Vladimir a guardian such as her, one who is shadow-kissed and always knows what is in his heart and mind.
"There you go," Mason said. "She was his guardian."
"It doesn't say what 'shadow-kissed' means."
"Probably doesn't mean anything."
Something in me didn't believe that. I read it again, trying to make sense of the old-fashioned language. Mason watched me curiously, looking like he very much wanted to help.
"Maybe they were hooking up," he suggested.
I laughed. "He was a saint."
"So? Saints probably like sex too. That 'brother and sister' stuff is probably a cover." He pointed to one of the lines. "See? They were 'bound' together." He winked. "It's code."
Bound. It was a weird word choice, but that didn't necessarily mean Anna and Vladimir were ripping each other's clothes off.
"I don't think so. They're just close. Guys and girls can just be friends." I said it pointedly, and he gave me a dry look.
"Yeah? We're friends, and I don't know what's in your 'heart and mind.' " Mason put on a fake philosopher's look. "Of course, some might argue that one can never know what's in the heart of a woman - "
"Oh, shut up," I groaned, punching him in the arm.
"For they are strange and mysterious creatures," he continued in his scholarly voice, "and a man must be a mind reader if he ever wishes to make them happy."
I started giggling uncontrollably and knew I'd probably get in trouble again. "Well, try to read my mind and stop being such a - "
