“Better get used to the idea,” Rose teased, glancing back at me. “Liss may not let you guys come back. When this is all over, you two may end up living with the Keepers.”

“I’m sure we can find some alternative before resorting to that,” I said loftily, not wanting to admit how uncertain I was about our future.

Dimitri didn’t share Rose’s amusement. “If the Alchemists are still after her, I’m sure Lissa will let you return to your suite.”

Won’t that be fun, noted Aunt Tatiana. More close quarters with your mother, none of you ever wanting to go out and face the other Moroi.

“That’s no kind of life,” I murmured, thinking of how trapped both Sydney and I had felt. I hadn’t fully realized it until we’d left and had some breathing room. Even when we were fighting, the vibe between us was more electric when we had our freedom. Meeting Sydney’s eyes, I knew she was thinking the same thing and was full of the same questions I had about what our future held. Unfortunately, we weren’t likely to get any answers right away. We could only focus on the immediate concerns. Jill. Olive.

Dimitri came to a halt and pointed off toward the woods. “Look. The beginning of the wards.”

I followed his motion and caught a glimpse of silver in the underbrush. A charmed silver stake. The dhampirs in this commune would have them placed strategically around their settlement, creating a magical barrier to keep Strigoi out. The undead couldn’t cross that kind of power, but it required constant maintenance. If the bonds weakened or someone moved a stake out of place, Strigoi would be able to come through. It was a concern all Moroi and dhampir communities had. The wards at Court were checked several times a day.

We had just passed the stake when a figure suddenly stepped out of the woods and onto the path in front of Dimitri, who struck a defensive stance at the sight of the newcomer and then relaxed when he saw it was a dhampir. She too wore a tough, ready-for-anything expression, along with both a gun and a silver stake at her belt. A medallion around her neck was an exact copy of Olive’s—save that it was edged in blue, not green. The woman’s face softened a little as she took in Rose and Dimitri, then hardened again at the sight of me.

“Greetings,” she said. “You’re looking for Wild Pine?”

Rose squeezed up beside Dimitri, which wasn’t easy on the narrow path. “We’re looking for a friend of ours,” she said. “We think she’s staying with you.”

After assessing Rose and Dimitri, the dhampir woman nodded congenially at Sydney and then turned downright hostile when she looked me over. “And him? What’s he looking for?”

“The girl we’re looking for is my friend too,” I said, surprised at her reaction. “I told her sister I’d find her.”

Our hostess looked skeptical, and I wondered what was up with that. I’d think it was dhampir solidarity, except that she’d seemed fine with Sydney. Probably the woman had seen Sydney’s lily tattoo and assumed she was doing some routine Alchemist visit. That still didn’t explain my cold welcome. “What’s your friend’s name?” the woman asked.

“Olive Sinclair,” I replied.

Immediately, a look of distaste filled the woman’s eyes, but it was clearly in regard to me, not Olive. “So you’re the one who got her in trouble.”

“The one who . . .” The meaning became clear, and I found myself blushing—something I’d maybe done twice in my life. “What? No! Of course not. I mean, if I did, I’d never—that is—I’m not the kind of guy who—”

“No,” said Dimitri bluntly. “Adrian’s not responsible. His intentions are honorable here. I’ll vouch for him. I’m Dimitri Belikov. This is Rose Hathaway, Sydney Ivashkov.”

Normally, a human introduced with a royal Moroi last name would have warranted a double take. But it was clear this woman never heard anything past Rose and Dimitri’s names. I saw it clearly in her eyes: the same awe and worship I’d observed in so many other faces whenever this dynamic duo introduced itself. And like that, the woman turned from fiercely protective doorkeeper to swooning fangirl.

“Omigod,” she gushed. “I thought you looked familiar! I’ve seen your pictures! I should’ve known right away! I’m so embarrassed. Come on, come on. I’m Mallory, by the way. Let’s not stand around in the woods! You must have done a lot of traveling to get here. Come rest. Get something to eat. Omigod.”

We followed her down the narrow trail, which eventually opened up to a huge clearing in the forest. It turned out Wild Pine really was kind of a cross between a camp and a resort. Actually, it kind of reminded me of a Wild West town after all. I could totally picture a shoot-out happening. Nice-looking cabins were arranged in orderly rows and seemed to be divided into business and residential areas. Dhampirs, almost entirely women and children, moved about their business, some pausing to give us speculative looks. Mallory led us toward a large cabin that was situated between the business and residential areas, bouncing with each step she took.

We entered what seemed to be a sort of office, and the first thing I noticed was that they had electricity. I took that as a good omen for plumbing. An older dhampir woman, her blond hair streaked with silver, sat at a desk, clicking something on a computer. She too wore a blue-edged medallion. When she saw us, she stood up and looped her fingers through the belt on her jeans as she leaned against the wall, showing off tooled leather boots that further reinforced my Wild West stereotypes.