But she wasn't my real mother. Janine Hathaway was. And standing there with her, I was happy-so, so happy-that I was her daughter. She wasn't perfect, but no one was, as I was learning. She was, however, good and brave and fierce and compassionate-and I think she understood me more than I realized sometimes. If I could be half the woman she was, my life would be well spent.
"I was so worried," she told me, recovering herself. "Where did you go-I mean, I know now you were in Russia... but why?"
"I thought..." I swallowed and again saw Dimitri with my stake in his chest. "Well, there was something I had to do. I thought I had to do it on my own." I wasn't sure about that last part now. True, I had accomplished my goal on my own, but I was realizing now how many people loved me and were with me. Who knew how differently things might have turned out if I'd asked for help? Maybe it would have been easier.
"I have a lot of questions," she warned.
Her voice had toughened, and I smiled in spite of myself. Now she was back to the Janine Hathaway I knew. And I loved her for it. Her eyes flitted to my face and then to my neck, and I saw her stiffen. For a panicked moment, I wondered if Oksana had missed healing one of the bite marks.
The thought of my mother seeing what I'd lowered myself to in Siberia made my heart stop.
Instead, she reached out and touched the bright colors of the cashmere scarf, her face filled with wonder as much as shock. "This... this is Ibrahim's scarf... it's a family heirloom..."
"No, it belongs to this mobster guy named Abe..."
I stopped as soon as the name crossed my lips. Abe. Ibrahim. Hearing them both out loud made me realize how similar they were. Abe... Abe was short for Abraham in English. Abraham, Ibrahim. There was only a slight variation in the vowels. Abraham was a common enough name in the U.S., but I'd heard Ibrahim only once before, spoken in scorn by Queen Tatiana when referring to someone my mother had been involved with...
"Mom," I said disbelievingly. "You know Abe."
She was still touching the scarf, eyes filled with emotion once more-but a different kind than she'd had for me. "Yes, Rose. I know him."
"Please don't tell me..." Oh, man. Why couldn't I have been an illegitimate half-royal like Robert Doru? Or even the mail-man's daughter? "Please don't tell me Abe is my father..."
She didn't have to tell me. It was all over her face, her expression dreamily recalling some other time and place-some time and place that had undoubtedly involved my conception. Ugh.
"Oh God," I said. "I'm Zmey's daughter. Zmey Junior. Zmeyette, even."
That got her attention. She looked up at me. "What on earth are you talking about?"
"Nothing," I said. I was stunned, trying desperately to assimilate this new piece of data into my worldview. I summoned a picture of that sly, bearded face, trying to hunt down family resemblance. Everyone said my facial features were like my mom's when she was younger... but my coloring, the dark hair and eyes... yes, that was the same as Abe's. I'd always known my father was Turkish. That was Abe's mystery accent, the one not Russian but still foreign to my ears. Ibrahim must be the Turkish version of Abraham.
"How?" I asked. "How in the world did you get involved with someone like that?"
She looked offended. "Ibrahim is a wonderful man. You don't know him like I do."
"Obviously." I hesitated. "Mom... you must know. What is it that Abe does for a living?"
"He's a businessman. And he knows and does favors for a lot of people, which is why he has the influence he does."
"But what kind of business? I've heard it's illegal. It's not... oh God. Please tell me he isn't selling blood whores or something."
"What?" She looked shocked. "No. Of course not."
"But he is doing illegal things."
"Who's to say? He's never actually been caught for anything illegal."
"I swear, you almost sounded like you were trying to make a joke." I never would have expected her to defend a criminal, but I knew better than most how love could drive us to crazy acts.
"If he wants to tell you, he'll tell you. End of story, Rose. Besides, you certainly keep your share of secrets too. You two have a lot in common."
"Are you kidding? He's arrogant, sarcastic, likes to intimidate people, and-oh." Okay. Maybe she had a point.
A small half-smile played upon her lips. "I never really expected you to meet this way. I never expected you to meet, period. We both thought it'd be best if he wasn't in your life."
A new thought occurred to me. "It was you, wasn't it? You hired him to find me."
"What? I contacted him when you went missing... but I certainly didn't hire him."
"Then who did?" I wondered. "He said he was working for someone."
Her lovestruck, reminiscent smile turned wry. "Rose, Ibrahim Mazur doesn't work for anyone. He's not the kind of person you can hire."
"But he said... wait. Why was he following me? Are you saying he was lying?"
"Well," she admitted, "it wouldn't be the first time. If he was following you, it wasn't because anyone was making him or paying him. He did it because he wanted to. He wanted to find you and make sure you were okay. He made sure all his contacts knew to look out for you."
I replayed my brief history with Abe. Shadowy, taunting, infuriating. But he'd driven out into the night to get me when I'd been attacked, been adamant in his goal to get me back to school and safety, and had apparently gifted me with an heirloom because he thought I'd get cold on my way home. He's a wonderful man, my mother had said.
I supposed there were worse fathers to have.
"Rose, there you are. What's taking so long?" My mom and I turned as Lissa entered the lobby, her face lighting up when she saw me. "Come on both of you. The food's going to get cold. And you won't believe what Adrian got."
My mom and I exchanged a quick look, neither of us needing to speak. We had a long conversation ahead of us, but it would have to wait.
I have no idea how Adrian had arranged it, but when we got to the lounge, there was Chinese food set up. The Academy almost never served it, and even then, it just never tasted... right. But this was the good stuff. Bowls and bowls of sweet-and-sour chicken and egg foo young. In a corner garbage can, I saw some restaurant takeout cartons with an address in Missoula printed on the side.
"How the hell did you get that here?" I demanded. Not only that, it was still warm.
"Don't question these things, Rose," said Adrian, loading up his plate with pork fried rice. He seemed very pleased with himself. "Just roll with it.
Once Alberta gets your paperwork settled, we'll eat like this every day."
I stopped mid-bite. "How do you know about that?"
He merely winked. "When you have nothing to do but hang out on campus all the time, you kind of pick things up."
Lissa glanced between the two of us. She'd been in class all day, and we hadn't had much time to talk. "What's this?"
"Alberta wants me to enroll again and graduate," I explained.
Lissa nearly dropped her plate. "Then do it!"
My mother looked equally startled. "She'll let you?"
"That's what she told me," I said.
"Then do it!" my mother exclaimed.
"You know," mused Adrian, "I kind of liked the idea of us going on the road together."
"Whatever," I shot back. "You probably wouldn't let me drive."
"Stop this." My mother was firmly back to her old self, no grief over her daughter's departure or wistfulness for a lost lover. "You need to take this seriously. Your future's at stake." She nodded toward Lissa. "Her future's at stake. Finishing your education here and going on to be a guardian is the-"
"Yes," I said.
"Yes?" she asked, puzzled.
I smiled. "Yes, I agree."
"You agree... with me?" I don't think my mom could ever recall that happening. Neither could I, for that matter.
"Yup. I'll take the trials, graduate, and become as respectable a member of society as I can. Not that it sounds like much fun," I teased. I kept my tone light, but inside, I knew I needed this. I needed to be back with people who loved me. I needed a new purpose, or else I would never get over Dimitri. I would never stop seeing his face or hearing his voice.