As my eyelids fluttered open and I found myself gazing at the wooden ceiling. Tilting my head slightly I could see that the world outside the empty window had been draped in a rose coloured veil as I had slumbered. I felt somewhat content. Not in a good way, really. Simply because my body and mind were too exhausted to properly comprehend the traumatising events of the previous day.

Admittedly, sleep had helped, but I still felt lethargic. As thoughts of my father slunk unbidden into my mind I forced them out, to some space hidden away to the side and closed the door on them. For now it was time to forget about my troubles and figure out what was going on.

Fyodor would be proud that I was moving on with my responsibilities. No, I though, that was not the truth. He would hold no pride, for progress was only to be expected. Pride was to be reserved for greater feats of courage than a common person could attempt to display. He would simply nod, before turning back to sharpening his blade... Or perhaps instructing one of my brothers in the way of some weapon. In this case he wouldn't nod, wouldn't show any acknowledgement. He never wanted to lay eyes on me again. My own father...

I forced myself upwards, swallowing the tears struggling to free themselves from my eyes, allowing the simple bed coverings to fall, landing in coarse browns waves around my waist. I hadn't noticed earlier but I was now shrouded in a thick masculine shirt. Were I to stand I should quite have expected it to fall to at least my knees.

Turning I found that my dreams had not been completely imagined, indeed, a wooden tray sat beside my resting place, bearing the food I had believed myself to have imagined; cheese, bread and a glorious red apple.

Who had gone to the trouble of outfitting me something in which I could sleep, and also providing me sustenance upon my waking? The answer came immediately to mind, a friendly face swimming into my mind's eye, as I remembered the feeling of security she had instilled as she had tucked me more snugly into the rough woollen blanket.

Carefully selecting the bright piece of fruit from the selection beside me, I held it cradled between both hands. I leaned forward to sink my teeth into the sweet flesh, thinking more about this strange woman with hair as white as the first snow of winter, blue eyes pale as ice.

By some strange force of nature I felt a pulling on my mind, as though I were being tugged from my own body. The image of the woman I had been thinking of began to solidify, slowly the woman's form became more real, as though she was standing right in front of me. She was talking to me, but I could hear no words.

Within moments my previously clear vision turned slightly murky, a pain pounded behind my eyes and my mouth tasted foul, reminding me slightly of the spirit which I had partaken last night, only to return it hastily to it's cup.

Suddenly her moving lips produced sound.

"You can't just leave the girl here, Vladimir. What of her education?" The imagined version of the woman challenged me. But why had she called me by a man's name? "She ought to be taught in matters fit for her station. We have few enough dhampirs as it is, especially those of the ladylike variety. Is it for the best to lose one of such a small number?"

The woman's voice cut harshly through my foggy mind, causing my eyes to flinch.

"Well what am I supposed to do, mother?" I challenged her, in a voice far removed from my own. "Take her with me to court? Yes, I can really see that going well." Mother? Who was this women to whom I was referring?

"Why not?" She answered reasonably. "The court grounds contain the largest contingent of female promised ones in the land. The women who attain the marks of honour are quickly claimed by the ladies of the most elite royal circles, those who live within the court wards. Alexandra alone has three females in her circle."

"So you take her to court," I scorned, once again in a tone not resembling mine in the slightest. "Why does it need be me?"

"You know well that's not an option. The Dormition of the Theotokos approaches, there is much to be done." She reprimanded.

"You and that damned god of yours," I started, surprising myself. Why would I speak such blasphemy?

A ringing slap landed upon my cheek, cutting my line of thought immediately. I flinched back, and although I didn't actually feel the pain it kind of resounded around my brain. The woman towered over me, and although I could see she wasn't as tall as she appeared, she was still frightening. No woman had ever slapped me before. Was I dreaming still?

"Don't you dare to speak to me in such a manor about our lord and saviour!" Her skin grew dark with blood, her eyes wide. Her blatant fury caused her to lower her guard, to forget her previous practice of barely opening her lips as she spoke, the way most moroi deigned to communicate. I could see her fangs. "I know of your beliefs on the matter, why my lord cursed me with a non-believer for a son I shall never know, but I shall not have you expressing such opinions to me, especially in such an offensive and insolent manor."

She paused momentarily to collect herself, before continuing, fangs hidden although an icy chill froze her words. "You will take her to court, on your next trip. I know you are planning another abominably sinful expedition, in order to take care of your lust for games, women and spirit. You take her with you, and you leave her in the care of someone adequately prepared to train a young woman who has been through such horror." Her cold order stated, she looked me over with a steady eye. "Go wash and change your shirt."

She spun on her heel and stalked through the open door of the room.

As soon as she was gone, and unable to observe, I raised a single hand to rub at the area stinging upon my cheek. I started with shock as I encountered a hair roughened cheek, where I would usually find nought but smooth skin and a tiny scar just before my ear.

My mind spun, before I slammed back into my own head, jolting me back to reality. I had often fallen into places of my own creation, imagining scenarios of a beautiful suitor or a glorious banquet, sometimes even the feel of the wind swooping beneath my wings as I soared amongst the clouds as an owl, but I had never placed myself into the consciousness of another person.

I set the apple aside, unable to consider consuming it as panic flooded me, causing my heart to accelerate.

What was going on?