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The tables had been arranged in straight lines, creating an aisle down the middle of the room.<br />
We had assigned seating, and naturally, I couldn't sit anywhere near Lissa. She sat in the front<br />
with the other Moroi; I was in the back with the novices. But she did catch my eye when I<br />
entered and flashed me a smile. She'd borrowed a dress from Natalie—blue, silky, and<br />
strapless—that looked amazing with her pale features. Who'd known Natalie owned anything<br />
so good? It made my sweater lose a few cool points.<br />
They always conducted these formal banquets in the same way. A head table sat on a dais at the<br />
front of the room, where we could all ooh and ahh and watch Queen Tatiana and other royals<br />
eat dinner. Guardians lined the walls, as stiff and formal as statues. Dimitri stood among them,<br />
and a weird feeling twisted my stomach as I recalled what had happened in the gym. His eyes<br />
stared straight ahead, as if focusing on nothing and everything in the room at once.<br />
When the time came for the royals' entrance, we all stood up respectfully and watched as they<br />
walked down the aisle. I recognized a few, mostly those who had children attending the<br />
Academy. Victor Dashkov was among them, walking slowly and with a cane. While I was<br />
happy to see him, I cringed to watch each agonizing step he took toward the front of the room.<br />
Once that group had passed, four solemn guardians with red-and-black-pin-striped jackets<br />
entered the commons. Everyone but the guardians along the walls sank to our knees in a silly<br />
show of loyalty.<br />
What a lot of ceremony and posturing, I thought wearily. Moroi monarchs were chosen by the<br />
previous monarch from within the royal families. The king or queen couldn't choose one of his<br />
or her own direct descendents, and a council from the noble and royal families could dispute the<br />
choice with enough cause. That almost never happened, though.<br />
Queen Tatiana followed her guards, wearing a red silk dress and matching jacket. She was in<br />
her early sixties and had dark gray hair bobbed to her chin and crowned with a Miss Americatype<br />
tiara. She moved into the room slowly, like she was taking a stroll, four more guardians at<br />
her back.<br />
She moved through the novices' section fairly quickly, though she did nod and smile here and<br />
there. Dhampirs might just be the half-human, illegitimate children of the Moroi, but we trained
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