“Ah,” I said, because it was all I could say.

Jill. Jill, who could see inside my world and the things I did–including the things I did with Sydney. I knew it bothered Sydney–and I couldn’t blame her. Having a reluctant witness to our most intimate activities wasn’t something I liked either, especially when that witness was sweet and innocent Jill. Not that she was probably that sweet and innocent after living in my head. Jill, more than anything, was what I suspected had slowed down my physical relationship with Sydney. There were some things she could grudgingly accept Jill knowing about. There were others she couldn’t.

And I had no argument or conciliatory words to offer. I didn’t know how to get around this, and no way would I pressure Sydney into something she was so uncomfortable with. The only thing I could hope for was that Jill and I could develop the self‑control to block each other out. My ex, Rose, had been bound to Lissa, and they’d eventually developed that ability . . . though it had taken a couple years. Was I willing to wait that long for Sydney? Studying her as I held her hand, I knew the answer immediately. Yes. Yes, I would.

I gave her what I hoped was an encouraging smile. “Then we’ll just have to see what happens. If it works, great. If not, you stop taking it. It’s a pill, not a lifelong commitment. Besides, there are lots of ways to keep busy in the meantime.”

That brought her smile back, and my heart lightened. “I’m guessing whatever ‘ways’ you have in mind aren’t Jill‑appropriate either.”

“Put your books away, and I’ll show you.”

Jill was still on my mind after Sydney left, largely because I had plans to have dinner with her that night. It was something I tried to do once in a while. Maybe Jill knew all about my life, but I wanted to keep in touch with hers. Besides, despite all our group dinners, it was nice just to have the two of us hang out. Well, almost two of us. Occasionally, Jill might leave the school with Sydney, but everyone preferred that a dhampir go along. I knew Jill found it oppressive sometimes, but this was one instance of stiff rules I could support. I’d been there when the assassins had attacked her. I’d seen the blood and her chest grow still. Those images woke me out of sleep all the time, and I’d be damned if there’d ever be a repeat of those events.

And so, Eddie tagged along for these dinners, which I didn’t mind that much. He was a good guy, one who’d seen his own fair share of trauma and heartache. It was a part of him, one he’d used to strengthen himself and carry on. He was real, and I appreciated that.

Except it wasn’t Eddie waiting at the curb with Jill.

“Damn it,” I muttered.

A wry look flashed across Jill’s face as she read my reaction. Although she was respectful of my thoughts and feelings, this was one matter that she stood firmly opposed to me in.

“Hi, Adrian,” she said cheerily, getting into the car. “Neil decided to come along with us tonight.”

“So I see.” He slid into the backseat, giving me a curt nod of greeting in the rearview mirror. “Does Castile have a hot date?”

“No, but we just thought it’d be fun for Neil to get out.” What she actually meant, of course, was that she thought it’d be fun for her to get out with Neil. I didn’t need a bond to know that.

“Plus, I’ve had one more year of experience than Eddie,” added Neil. “So really, I should be the one who always goes out in public with Her Highness.”

Jill normally chafed at her title, but whenever Neil used it, he seemed to act like some ye olde knight that set her heart aflutter.

“Castile’s faced a few tough situations,” I said. “How many Strigoi and assassins have you run up against?” I watched him in the rearview mirror, and although he had that tough‑guy look on his face, I saw him shift uneasily.

“I was once part of a large regiment of guardians protecting a royal family when two Strigoi decided to attack,” he said.

“Two Strigoi against a whole group of guardians, huh? Wow. That’s pretty hard core.”

I saw Jill shoot me an angry look in my periphery. “Neil’s done and seen a lot of things. His training is excellent.”

In a great act of generosity, I decided to give up on tormenting her fake crush . . . for now. My attention soon turned to fighting for a parking spot downtown amid all the other evening diners. One opened up just as I was driving in front of the Greek restaurant I’d picked for dinner. “Adrian Ivashkov wins again,” I declared.

There was only a short wait inside, and as the hostess led us to our table, we passed the dessert case. “Fresh baklava,” observed Jill, face perfectly innocent.

“Looks that way,” I said, just as sweetly. “Maybe we can get some to go.” Baklava was one of Sydney’s favorites. It may or may not have played a role in my decision to come here.

I passed wistfully on the ouzo and asked Jill about her swimming team. All Amberwood students needed to participate in a sport outside of classes, and swimming was the perfect choice for her since most meets were indoors and because her elemental specialty was water. Personally, I wasn’t a huge sports fan, though I did like Super Bowl parties, especially if I didn’t have to watch the game. I had gone to a few of Jill’s swim meets and found it was worth enduring the overexcited parents to see her excel.

Even now, there was happiness on her face as she described achieving a new personal best, and it was a pleasant distraction from the storms continually brewing in my mind. She’d had a lot of difficulties adjusting to Amberwood, and I was glad to see something going her way. The interlude was ruined when she turned to Neil with shining eyes.

“Neil’s on the wrestling team. He’s really amazing. The best one. He wins all his matches.”

I leaned back in the chair, feeling no more qualms about going after him if she insisted on bringing him up. “Well, of course he does. Any dhampir is going to dominate over a human. It’s nature.”

Neil thought this over as he chewed his souvlaki. “I suppose so,” he said at last.

“Hardly seems fair,” I continued. “I mean, they make adjustments for weight class, but there’s no regulating something like that. You’re playing with people who can in no way keep up with you.”

Jill shot me a warning look. “Well, there’s nothing he can do, seeing as Amberwood doesn’t sort by human and dhampir teams.”

“You could always throw the matches,” I told Neil.

He blanched. “Throw a match? I couldn’t do that! It’d go against my personal code of ethics.”

“Where does taking out people who can in no way defeat you fit into your ethics?” I asked. “If you ask me, that’s the real moral transgression.” I wished Sydney were here because I think she would’ve appreciated my use of transgression. “But I mean, it’s your life. I don’t judge, and honestly . . .” I gave a light laugh. “I tend to always err a little too much on the side of morality. It’s one of my few flaws.”

Even Neil wasn’t oblivious enough to buy that. He narrowed his eyes. “I somehow must have missed that. Tell me more about your views on morality.”

I waved him off. “Oh, we don’t have that kind of time. But you know who you should talk it over with? Castile. There’s a guy who understands the right thing to do. He faked spraining his ankle to get out of most of the basketball season so he wouldn’t have to deal with the, uh, ethics of competing with humans. Now that’s someone who really walks the line.”

While I still couldn’t gauge Neil’s interest in Jill, I knew beyond a doubt he regarded Eddie as a rival in life. Eddie wasn’t quite as bad, but he had a competitive streak as well. I guess there could only be one alpha dhampir at Amberwood.

“Lying isn’t exactly honorable either,” said Neil hotly.

“No, but humility is.” I sighed as dreamily for Eddie as Jill often did for Neil. “He’d rather face the humiliation of being out of the game than reap glory he doesn’t deserve.”