Christian stretched out beside her and pulled her close. ʺBut for what itʹs worth, I think youʹd be a great queen too, Princess Dragomir.ʺ ʺYouʹre going to get dirty,ʺ she warned. ʺAlready am. Oh, you mean from your clothes?ʺ He wrapped his arms around her, heedless of her damp and muddy state. ʺI spent most of my childhood hiding in a dusty attic and own exactly one dress shirt. You really think I care about this T-shirt?ʺ

I felt the need to clarify we were there for the self defense class, in case he also taught about dog breeding or riding the high seas.

This was the last thing I expected. You destroy my life and then feed me some inspiratonal philosophy.

He was hiding from his problems in a bottle, something that went against every piece of my nature. Me? I couldnʹt let my problems win without a fight.

What...what are you doing?" "I won't know," he said with a grin. He took a step towards me. "But I'm pretty sure you were doing it too.

"Well, you've finally got a license to kill. It's about time." I turned and met the amused eyes of Christian Ozera, a onetime annoyance who'd become a good friend. So good, in fact, that in my joyous zeal, I reached out and hugged him - something he clearly didn't expect. I was surprising everyone today. "Whoa, whoa," he said backing up, flushing. "It figures. You're the only girl who'd get all emotional about the thought of killing. I don't even want to think about what goes on when you and Ivashkov are alone."

You two are a match made in heaven. Or somewhere.