Chapter Two

As I changed out of my heavy dress and into more practical clothing, I traced the sigil on my custom tunic, a gift from Rhea back when I was still training to be a Guardian. I had come home frustrated the day before because my skirt kept getting in the way during hand-to-hand combat. I had sulked in my room all night and didn't even bother coming out for dinner—a very rare occurrence for me. The next day that tunic and a slim pair of trousers were waiting at the foot of my bed with a note from Rhea that read: Show them what you are made of. And I did.

Not long after, we were all in a horrific accident while out on an excursion and we never saw them again. Lissa had taken it extremely hard. So much so, that I was worried she would never recover. During the sleepless nights at her bedside watching over her, I promised over and over, to myself—and to Rhea—that I would keep her safe. From that moment on she would always come first and I would do what it took to make sure no harm ever came to her.

After slipping into my training gear and securing the clasp of my silver necklace around my neck, a trinket I never went without, I slung my sheepskin cloak over my shoulders and headed down towards the camp. The rain was in full force now, but it didn't bother me in the least. I welcomed its roar.

I resisted the urge to howl at the sky again and dug my boots into the thick mud as I approached the other Guardians. They had set up a makeshift awning to keep their parchments dry as the recruits walked up one-by-one to give their name and position.

"Next," one of the Guardians shouted.

"Hey Rose! I mean Marshall," Eddie Castile greeted with a smile as he walked out from under the covering to join me in the rain. "I'm surprised to see you out here tonight. Now that you're officially in charge, this kind of stuff is below your rank." His golden hair quickly turned dark under the storm's heavy pour, but like me, he didn't seem to mind.

"Yeah, well I had to make sure the likes of you had things under control. Even something as simple as taking names has proven to be a bit of a challenge," I mock-scolded.

"Aw c'mon, Rose. That was one time," Eddie practically whined, causing my serious facade to crack. "And I'll have you know I've learned how to read and write since then."

I gave him a reassuring smile to let him know I was only codding him. "I know, I know. I just wanted to see what we were working with firsthand." Even though welcoming recruits wasn't technically within my job responsibilities, I was always interested in the new faces coming in. The look on a man's face could tell you more than any words that would ever seep out of his mouth. Some stood proudly, their chests puffed out and a self-assured look adorning their features—which usually told me they had close to no experience in the field whatsoever. Others looked worn from travel or slightly distrusting as they took in their new surroundings. Reasonably so, since the Dragomir Castle had a way of coming off as rather menacing to those who hadn't seen it before.

Our stones were darker than most, giving off an almost blackened, scorched look at night and at the top of the main tower sat two massive dragon-shaped gargoyles. They were intricately carved with tails winding down the sides of the stone structure and gaping mouths that seemed to roar into the night. They were meant to signify strength and power, but their threatening features were only accentuated by the flashes of lightning in the distance.

The heavy drops began tapering off, making my line of sight a little more clear and I moved towards the awning to get a closer look at our list. Next to some of the names were rankings and titles of knighthood, where others had generic names, signifying they were not sired or claimed by someone of noble relation. But no matter what class or skill-level they were at, we all shared one commonality. We were all Dhampir. Half human, half Moroi. Born and bred to wage wars against the Strigoi and protect our Moroi brethren. Without them, we wouldn't exist—and without us, they wouldn't survive.

Becoming a Guardian meant you had sacrificed your life to the cause and sealed it with a promise. It was considered an honor amongst our kind. Many of us spent the first sixteen years of our lives training to become one and some excelled even further to work their way up in the rankings, as I did. In the end, though, someone with the highest rank could be brought down just as easily as an inexperienced novice if they weren't careful. Strigoi were vicious, powerful, and had an immortal lust that could only be satiated by blood. We had to train for every possible scenario and be prepared to face the worst.

As I continued to look over the list I saw a few names I recognized. Dhampirs a couple years below me that had finally finished their training and were joining the ranks. I felt equally proud and saddened by this, knowing that many of them wouldn't survive their first year.

"Next," the Guardian seated below me bellowed.

My finger continued to skim across the parchment of names as I tried to dedicate them to memory. It was an old habit of Alberta's that had rubbed off on me somewhere down the line. She had told me how important it was to know every single member of the troops within our charge, whether they were with us for five years, or five weeks. These Dhampirs had vowed to give their lives to protecting the Moroi and were entrusting us to lead them. At the very least we owed them the honor of carrying their memory with us.

Alberta could hear a person's name once and never forget it again—a skill I had unfortunately yet to master. However, I had hoped that by getting a head start during registration, it would be easier for them to sink in as we began training over the next few days.

Just as I was nearing the end of the second column of names, a dark shadow crept up the parchment, shielding the remaining signatures from my line of sight. Slightly annoyed, I glanced over to my left to see that the nearby torches were still well protected under the awning, but something—or someone—was blocking their light.

Now, most Guardians are in impeccable shape. We are much stronger and a lot of the time more defined than the majority of humans, thanks to our hybrid genes. Not to mention, if Viking invaders weren't enough to keep you in shape, then Strigoi sure as hell were. But this guy...he was one of the largest men I had ever seen. His shoulders were covered by a hooded cloak made out of a material I had never seen before, but the shadowed outline from the flickering light gave away their broadness and impressive stature. His legs were the size of some of the tree trunks that I had run through mere hours before, and I would have half a mind to bet they were just as sturdy as well. I was instantly curious who this Dhampir was, and what skill level he would be bringing to our cause, but his hood was blocking his face from my covert method of discovery.

"Name here," the Guardian beside me reclined his neck to look up at the towering giant in front of him. I subtly studied their interaction, waiting for the moment when he would reveal himself to me. His hand extended out to the tattered quill and he folded his torso down to reach the wooden table, letting the light shine on us once again. It surprised me how graceful that small movement was for a man of his size and I wondered if it was coincidence or training. The quill scratched along the parchment as he wrote out his name, and despite my curiosity of it, I kept my eyes glued to the top of his damp hood, patiently waiting.

Sensing my sights on him, the quill stopped mid-stroke and his hidden face slowly rose up to mine. Now that his tall form was no longer blocking the lantern I could see his features a little more clearly, but was disappointed yet again. Despite the fact that his stare was pointedly glued to mine, where the others I had deciphered were fixed in various directions, he was impossible to read. Surely a man of that size would be at least a little bit cocky and self-assured, but he gave nothing away. It was as if there was a stone wall where his expression should be. Somehow, it was frustrating beyond belief yet undeniably intriguing at the same time. There was a heaviness in his eyes that made most people want to look away first, but I could hold my own.

Mimicking his stoniness, I hid all emotion from my demeanor and met his challenging stare. As I continued to search his face for any usual identifiers, I felt drawn to those eyes. Their color was also hidden from me due to the lack of light in front of him, but there was something about them. Something...dangerous.

His eyelids closed over them, snapping me out of my dazed state, and when they opened again his focus was back on the parchment. When he finished signing his name, the mysterious stranger handed the quill back to my fellow Guardian and turned to walk off.

"Welcome to the Dragomir troops, Guardian Belikov." The stranger craned his head back at the sound of his name and nodded to the seated Guardian who had spoken it. His eyes flicked to me one last time before he strode off into the rain, the dim light of the passing torches finally revealing their molten brown color.

Men continued to line up as the night continued, the signatures growing one by one, but my eyes kept finding their way back to the puzzling stranger's name scrawled on the left side of the page. It didn't matter how many times I looked at it because immediately after learning it, I knew—this was one name I wouldn't forget. Dimitri Belikov.