richellemead-vampireacademy01-vampireacademy-110824015328-phpapp02

"We should go," I said abruptly. "We're going to leave.”
"Rose—”
"It's happening again. And it's worse. Worse than last time.”
"You're afraid of the note.”
"I'm not afraid of any note. But this place isn't safe.”
I suddenly longed for Portland again. It might be dirtier and more crowded than the rugged
Montana landscape, but at least you knew what to expect—not like here. Here at the Academy,
past and present warred with each other. It might have its beautiful old walls and gardens, but
inside, modern things were creeping in. People didn't know how to handle that. It was just like
the Moroi themselves. Their archaic royal families still held the power on the surface, but
people were growing discontent. Dhampirs who wanted more to their lives. Moroi like
Christian who wanted to fight the Strigoi. The royals still clung to their traditions, still touted
their power over everyone else, just as the Academy's elaborate iron gates put on a show of
tradition and invincibility.
And, oh, the lies and secrets. They ran through the halls and hid in the corners. Someone here
hated Lissa, someone who was probably smiling right to her face and pretending to be her
friend. I couldn't let them destroy her.
"You need to get some sleep," I told her.
"I can't sleep.”
"Yes, you can. I'm right here. You won't be alone.”
Anxiety and fear and other troubled emotions coursed through her. But in the end, her body's
needs won out. After a while, I saw her eyes close. Her breathing became even, and the bond
grew quiet.
I watched her sleep, too keyed up with adrenaline to allow myself any rest. I think maybe an
hour had passed when the nurse returned and told me I had to leave.