o_18vdqvms01tdp1ck54q91frg17mg2d.pdf

FOURTEEN
TWO GUYS I'D NEVER MET before were squaring off against each other. They looked to be
in their twenties, and neither noticed me. The one who'd bumped into me shoved the other one
hard, forcing him to stagger back considerably.
"You're afraid!" yelled the guy by me. He had on green swimming trunks, and his black hair
was slicked back with water. "You're all afraid. You just want to hole up in your mansions and
let the guardians do your dirty work. What are you going to do when they're all dead? Who'll
protect you then?"
The other guy wiped the blood off his face with the back of his hand. I suddenly recognized
him—thanks to his blond highlights. He was the royal who'd yelled at Tasha about wanting to
lead Moroi to battle. She'd called him Andrew. He tried to land a hit and failed; his technique
was all wrong. "This is the safest way. Listen to that Strigoi-lover, and we'll all be dead. She's
trying to kill our whole race off!"
"She's trying to save us!"
"She's trying to get us to use black magic!"
The "Strigoi-lover" had to be Tasha. The non-royal guy was the first person outside of my little
circle whom I'd ever heard speak in her favor. I wondered how many others out there shared his
view. He punched Andrew again, and my base instincts—or maybe the punch—made me leap
into action.
I sprang forward and wedged myself between them. I was still dizzy and a bit unsteady. If they
hadn't been standing so close, I probably would have fallen over. They both hesitated, clearly
caught off guard.
"Get out of here," snapped Andrew.