Reliving the past

Prologue

The sound of someone calling my name drew my attention away from my spiraling emotions. I turned away from the window, coming out of my reverie and faced the room.

My friends were sitting around in the room, waiting for something.

Me, I realized with a start.

They were waiting for me to say something.

Anything.

But I couldn't.

I was in a sort of state where I was feeling shock, confusion and panic all at once. The situation was beyond my understanding. I don't know how it happened and what to make of it. I suppose that was the reason my friends were here: to help understand the situation.

My gaze went around the room, taking in the setting. We were in one of the massive lounges of the Moroi queen, Vasilisa Dragomir's palace. My best friend since childhood, the queen herself was sitting on the sofa closest to me, her beau Lord Christian Ozera sitting beside her, rubbing soothing circles on the back of her hand. Adrian and Sydney Ivashkov sat slightly away from the royal couple. Adrian was frowning into space with Sydney casting worried glances in his direction from time to time. Princess Jillian Dragomir, sitting on Adrian's other side, looked spaced out. No doubt she was in Adrian's head, thinking his thoughts. My childhood friend, Edison Castile was leaning against the wall next to Jill, keeping a wary eye on the surroundings. He looked grim. Though his face didn't betray his thoughts, I knew he was worried like everyone else. The same worry that I detected in my mother's eyes when I looked at her straight backed form, standing to attention beside her charge. Her new charge was my father, the influential Ibrahim Mazur whose eyes were fixed on me. His eyes showed worry and reassurance. There was a steely glint in them that assured me that if there was someone who would find the answers I needed, it was my father. Next to Abe was my old teacher, Sonya Karp, now Sonya Tanner. Her husband and my good friend Mikhail sat with her, his face set in a stoic mask that we guardians excelled in. Sonya's face sported a look on intense concentration, her eyes fixed on the book lying on the coffee table.

The book. The god damned book.

The book on the table was battered, with a weak spine and pages that looked like they would turn to dust at the slightest hint of rough use. The most redeeming quality of the book was the handwriting on its pages. It was neat and beautiful. Not even Lissa or Sydney's handwriting looked so neat.

But the words written in that handwriting were the source of our worries. The cause of my panic, confusion and disbelief.

Because, written on those pages was my story, told in my point of view. My thoughts, which were supposed to be private, mine and only mine unless I wished to share it with someone, were now written in that book.

How on earth did that happen?

A gentle touch on my shoulder helped me reign in the panic.

I took a deep breath. It would be okay. I'd overcome worse situations before.

Feeling better, I turned to smile at the person who'd known exactly what I needed, like always.

Dimitri Belikov, the love and my life a total badass guardian, looked concerned.

For me.

I knew just how much he hated the fact that there was nothing he could do to rectify the situation, to take away my concerns and reassure me. He couldn't do anything about the book.

I yielded to his gentle pull and found myself in his arms. I fought the urge to collapse against him, from the sheer weight of anxiety. We weren't alone. I detested showing weakness in front of anyone, even if the 'anyone' in question were my friends and family.