Dru

Katie's Point of View

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It was, quite possibly, the most magnificent thing I'd ever seen. It was everything I'd ever imagined it would be, and more. I'd been in the U.N. Assembly Hall several times during my internship, and had seen the U.S. Senate and House of Representatives Chambers once during a trip to D.C., but this… oh, nothing compared to the Council of Nobles' Auditorium.

The room had all the grandeur of the U.N. Assembly Hall, with the intimacy of a much smaller venue like the U.S. Senate Chambers. A rich mahogany accent wall stood at the front of the room, a golden Seal of the Council of Nobles prominently displayed right at the center. To each side, currently black screens framed the seal, and in front of it, a long bench – similar to what you'd expect to see in a courtroom – marked the Speaker's seat and seats for any testifying witnesses or experts. Across a sea of deep blue carpet sat two tables and a podium, and then beyond them, rows of matching mahogany tables fanned out in a semi-circle, each row elevated a couple of feet higher than the one before it. It didn't look like it, but I knew there were fifty of those small tables, each with two seats – enough for the current Seat and the incoming Heir of each Noble family. Along the back wall, a commemorative plaque held the engraved names of every Seat who'd lost their lives in service to the Council. There would be two hundred and forty-three names there, dating back centuries.

The auditorium was almost empty, but there were a few early birds, standing and chatting or working on something at their desks. A few unoccupied tables had items scattered about – notebooks or laptops or water bottles. It gave the room a lived in feeling, making it easy to imagine the bustling meetings that I knew took place in this very spot. I couldn't wait to see one myself, couldn't wait to hear the passionate arguments, to feel the pressure weighing on everyone to solve one crisis or another, to—

The feeling of an arm slinging over my shoulder jolted me from the daydream just as my brother's grinning face popped into view. "Miss me?"

I blinked, pushed aside my surprise – I was still pretty early, and Conner wasn't exactly known for being on time – and pulled him into a tight hug. "Always."

He gave me a quick once-over as he pulled away, flashing a teasing grin. "Still alive, I see?" He tried to play it off as a joke, but the obvious relief in his eyes gave away exactly how concerned he'd been.

I hummed out a reply and chose not to call him on it.

"Both Hughes siblings at once? Lord have mercy!"

I looked up to see two men approaching, both tall and blond, but bearing no further resemblance. I recognized the man who had spoken easily: Lukas Zimmerman. Though he was between Conner and me in age, and had never missed a Noble gathering or an archery tournament, neither of us had ever been particularly close to him. Certainly not close enough to joke about sibling tag-teaming. Still, I fixed on a smile and nodded in greeting. "Lukas."

The man beside him was harder to place, but he was familiar enough that I knew I should have recognized him. With shaggy blonde hair and sun-bronzed skin, he looked more like a professional athlete dressed for a press conference than the rich, prep-school graduate with a guaranteed family job that I knew he must have been.

"Will, how long has it been since you've seen my sister?" Conner asked, ignoring Lukas entirely and subtly giving me the clue he clearly knew I needed: Right! William Pruitt. Son of Jasper Pruitt, the current Seat for his family. The Pruitts were traditionally a more moderate family, but they rarely participated in the little Noble gatherings the Council held every year. I hadn't seen him since he was a teenager.

"Entirely too long," Will responded, stepping forward and extending his hand. I offered mine, and he brought my fingers up to his lips. It was an old fashioned gesture, and one that was unfortunately quite common among Noble families, but Will managed to do it without making the whole thing seem overly cheesy or just a bit sleazy.

"It's good to see you again, Will," I told him, not needing to force the smile this time. Though my memories of him were few and far between, he'd always been friendly, and the stories Conner had told of him over the past few years made it clear this hadn't changed.

"Just wish it were under better circumstances." His expression sobered as he released my hand and gave me a concerned once-over that mimicked my brother's earlier appraisal. "How are you holding up? Can't be easy packing up your life and moving into Werewolf Headquarters."

It wasn't, but admitting as much – especially with my brother right beside me, scrutinizing my reaction – wasn't an option. I offered a smile and a different truth, instead: "I'm just happy to be able to help in such an important way."

If anyone noticed the dodge for what it was, they didn't comment. Lukas, for his part, seemed to take issue with my response, but also seemed to know better than to directly comment. "Marrying a werewolf," he said instead, giving his head a shake and clicking his tongue in disapproval. "Can't believe we're making anyone do that."

Can't believe you would actually agree to marry a werewolf, he meant. I only smiled even wider, completely unfazed by the jealous taunt.

"Regardless," Will cut in, his hand suddenly on Conner's arm in a way that made it clear he'd stopped something from escalating, "if you ever need anything, Katie, don't hesitate to reach out. There can be a lot of… egos and red tape around here, but most of us here have your back."

Most might have been a stretch, but I appreciated his offer nonetheless. "Thank you," I told him. "That means a lot."

His gaze flicked up over my shoulder and back, a rueful smile gracing his lips as he leaned in closer for just a second. "Though, we won't be able to save you from this, apparently. Good luck." And with a wink, he pulled away, clapping an arm around Lukas's shoulders and steering him off with him.

"Man on," Conner breathed beside me, issuing the familiar soccer warning from back when we used to play as kids. Of course, I'd already figured out from Will that we had incoming Councilmembers, but there wasn't time to point that out.

I turned and offered a friendly nod to the four approaching men. My father and Speaker Cannizzaro were the easiest to identify, but Silas Aldridge, with his severe expression, high-end suit, and signature goatee, didn't take me long to place, either. And, where Aldridge went, Alexander duPont followed, so that made the middle-aged but finely-dressed brunet man behind him… little Charlotte duPont's father. Odd how you can spend years of Council gatherings and youth archery tournaments teaching coaching a kid and never meet her father, but apparently today would be the day to rectify that.

I was just about to lift my hand and introduce myself when Cannizzaro beat me to it. "Katie Hughes! How great to see you again, my girl. How are you doing?"

The term of endearment threw me, but I tried to recover quickly. "I'm doing well. I—"

Silas Aldridge cut me off. "Did any of them threaten you? Have you been at all harmed?"

"I…" For a second, that was all I could think to say.

It took me a minute to figure out what felt so off about Aldridge's words, because, on the one hand, they were normal enough questions, given the circumstances. Heck, I'd expected to be asked exactly that by my father or my brother, but when Silas asked them…

When Will had asked how I was doing, he'd wanted to know how I was handling the transition. He hadn't questioned my competence or dug around for dirt on the werewolves; he'd just been genuinely concerned about me. And had my father demanded to know if I'd been threatened or harmed, it would've been the same, born of concern for my safety and wellbeing.

This didn't feel like concern. If anything, it felt like Silas was actually hoping the answer was yes.

My gaze locked with my father's for a moment, and even though he couldn't have any way of actually knowing what was going through my mind, even though his expression was nothing but genuine concern… it felt like an I told you so.

The Council really didn't think I'd be safe, did they?

"No," I denied as soon as I regained my ability to speak. "No, of course not. I'm perfectly fine, and I've been treated quite well." By most of the werewolves, anyways, but it wouldn't do to project anything short of competence and confidence right now, so I kept that little bit to myself.

"Well… that's good. We're glad to hear it," duPont assured, hand on Aldridge's shoulder as he stepped forward. "You'll let us know if that ever changes, won't you, Dear? Or if you ever need anything, you only need ask, for we're here to help."

"Of course." I sincerely doubted I'd be taking him up on that particular offer, but it was apparently the right thing for me to say, for both duPont and Aldridge nodded once and took their leave, heading toward one of the other groups that had begun to gather in the Chambers.

"Well," with a clap of his hands, Cannizzaro offered me yet another wide smile and a nod, "it was good to see you, Katie. Glad to hear you're settling in all right. Is there anything you need before we get this meeting started?"

It didn't really seem like a good idea to ask for tips on how to get my werewolf fiancé to stop blowing me off, so I only shook my head.

"Well okay then. Just remember, you can call me anytime if that changes. Thomas, make sure your girl's got my direct line, will you? Have a safe drive back, Katie."

As my father voiced his agreement, I did a double take, narrowly managing to avoid snapping my head up and asking, wait, what? As it was, I had to scramble to step into the Speaker's path as he tried to move around me. "Sir, I'd be more than happy to stick around for the meeting."

"Oh, there's no need for that," he dismissed easily enough. "We'll summon you and the Sovereigns when we need you, but of course, if anything happens in the mean time that you believe the Council needs to hear about, you don't hesitate to give me a call."

I figured it couldn't hurt to try again, this time from perhaps a firmer stance. Maybe he thought I'd only been offering to be polite, after all… "If I may, I think it would actually be helpful for me to observe a session, make sure I'm up to speed with—"

"It's a close session, I'm afraid," came the quick but equally firm shutdown. "Besides, I'm sure you've got more important things to keep an eye on back with the werewolves. Oh! Thomas, I need a word with you and Sam before we open the session. Do you know who's providing the update on the Lombardy situation?"

"Of course, and that'd be Jasper," my father answered, before turning back to me for just a moment. He scanned my expression for a moment before blowing out a breath. "I tried to warn... Damn it, never mind. You sure you're okay?"

"I'm great," I lied. "Everything's under control."

"Alright. I'm sorry we don't have more time. If nothing changes, you're scheduled to appear before the Council in a couple weeks. Meetings with the Sovereigns and Enforcers usually end just before lunch. We can catch up then?"

I nodded, somewhat numb as I watched him turn and follow after the Speaker. For a moment, I completely forgot that Conner was still at my side, and I nearly startled when he let his hand drop onto my shoulder. He gave it a quick squeeze, pulling me back toward him for a second, then released me with a sigh. "I'll walk you out, then."

I only nodded again, not fully trusting my voice at the moment.

Blown off by my future husband and the Council of Nobles all in one day. Oh, yeah… things were going great, all right.

---------

For better or worse, it took me a few days before I finally found that fiancé of mine again.

And, well, found might not have been the appropriate word. I certainly hadn't been looking for him at the time, and had, in reality, all but given up my search. After getting the brush off from the Speaker of the Council of Nobles, I'd taken the rest of the day to more or less wallow at my circumstances, before realizing how utterly pointless that exercise was. Self-pity turned into irritation, and for the next couple of days, I'd made it my mission to try and tackle one of my problems head-on. Of course… one couldn't exactly grab the bull by the horns if one couldn't even find the damn bull…

So, that left me with nothing to do but work on the reading list Remington had provided me with, which is why I found myself sitting in the library when the Enforcer made an appearance, striding into the room in what might have been the exact same outfit he'd been wearing four days ago.

He seemed determined to pretend I wasn't even in the room, so naturally, I resolved to appear indifferent to his obvious indifference, even if I had been wandering the building hoping to run into him for two whole days.

I made a point of barely glancing up from the book I was reading, stiffly turning the page in a way that most exaggerated the noise of a page flip. "Bună ziua," I offered in what I hoped came off as a bored tone.

For a long moment, he didn't so much as acknowledge that I had spoken, just continuing to shuffle through what appeared to be a storage bin full of manila folders. …I was able to subtly watch him, even as I kept my gaze locked on the book in front of me, only because the bin he was digging through was diagonally in front of me and therefore completely within range of my peripheral vision.

"How was my pronunciation on that?"

He straightened at my words, turning so that he was fully facing me. For a moment, the cold expression on his face made me worry that he was going to snap at me, those feral eyes of his putting me more on edge than I would have otherwise been. But he didn't snap at me; he merely tilted his head to the side, seeming to consider me. He was done a moment later, turning back around and focusing his attention on the bin of folders once again.

I scowled, never having been one to handle being ignored particularly well, and even less in the mood for it now that I'd been essentially stranded with nothing to do but read for the better part of a week. "So we're back to the whole pretending-you-don't-understand-English thing?"

"You over-articulated," he informed me then, tone neutral and straightforward. He didn't look away from his files, and the way his body was angled made it impossible that he was copying my trick and watching me from the corner of his eye. …No, he really just didn't care. "What would you like me to say?"

His indifference rubbed me the wrong way, but something told me throwing my head back and shouting in frustration probably wouldn't help the situation. I settled for a none-too-genuine smile. "So it was Romanian, then?"

This time, he did spare me a glance, roughly shoving the files he'd collected aside and pivoting so that he could fix that perturbing stare of his on me. "What do you want?"

I only blinked, not entirely sure what he was asking and even less sure that I had an actual answer. My lack of a response was apparently the wrong response, however, because after a few seconds of waiting, he let out a low growl – which, holy hell! was absolutely terrifying – and stalked toward me. I had to fight off the sudden urge to scamper out of my seat and run across the room, figuring that turning my back on a stalking predator was probably the absolute last thing I should do, and thankfully, he came to a stop when he reached the opposite side of the table.

I only had a second to be relieved, before he was slowly leaning down, palms pressing into the wooden surface only inches from where my book lay, completely abandoned. My hands were clasped together in my lap, knuckles white, as I shrunk further back into my seat.

I could barely breathe. Whatever he was doing with that whole exuding-dominance thing that Gwendolyn had shown me before, it seemed to weigh down the air all around me, making it difficult to get a full breath in, and utterly impossible to look up from my hands. I squirmed uncomfortably, knowing he was staring down at me but unable to do anything about it.

"Yes," he finally drew out, "it was Romanian. But I fail to see why that should matter to you at all. You won't be able to learn it on your own, and if you so much as think that I might have the time, the patience, or even the slightest inclination to help you learn it, then you've got another thing coming."

"I didn't…" I tried to respond, but my voice came out as more of a squeak than an actual objection, and my point died off the second I made the mistake of glancing up at those half-glowing, half-stony, feral eyes of his. I looked back down immediately, unable to help feeling like a scolded child.

He made a sound something like a scoff, his disgust obvious. "Look," he drawled, voice softer but no less threatening, as he pulled away from the table, "you're not prepared to be here, to do this, and that's not your fault. Nothing you could ever do would prepare you to be here, to be an Enforcer. So do us both a favor, and just stay out of my way so I can do my job."

He pushed away from the table, then, crossing back over and picking up the box of folders. Or, at least, that's what I was able to deduce from the sound of footsteps and shuffling papers. I didn't manage to look up until after I'd heard the door click closed behind him.

It wasn't until after the pressure in the air relaxed, after I could actually breathe again, that I realized I was sitting around acting like a child who'd been put in time out.

Furious with myself for letting that happen, and more than a little bit done with being brushed aside as utterly useless and unnecessary, I wasted no time in hopping to my feet and chasing after him.

I was a Noble, damn it, and I would not sit back and let myself be talked to like that again – not by the man I was going to have to marry. This dynamic needed to be fixed here and now, so it wouldn't become an issue in the future.

My gaze snagged on Nikolai's retreating back, just before he managed to turn a corner. "Hey!" I called out, not particularly caring what kind of attention I might draw to myself by raising my voice in what was essentially a palace. I was too furious to care, and – besides! – he was all the way at the end of the hallway, so I couldn't exactly whisper.

He stopped in his tracks, the muscles in his shoulders seeming to rise in tension as he slowly turned around, the expression on his face absolutely lethal even from all the way at the other end of the hallway. I couldn't say if I managed to avoid flinching under his intense glare; I was too busy reminding myself not to look away or otherwise give in.

"You will not talk to me like that!" I told him, my voice having dropped a few decibels, though it was still admittedly louder than it really needed to be. I kept my head held high as I stepped forward, trying to communicate through my body language that I was not at all afraid of him. And alright, I was trying to communicate a total lie, but could you really blame me?

Either way, I apparently failed to convince him of the lie, for as he dropped the box of files – just dropped them! as if he didn't even care! – and made his way toward me, there was a glint in his eye and a predatory glide to his step. I almost wanted to take it all back.

I tried to remain calm, my chin tilting up even more when he stopped only a few feet from me, though I had a feeling I looked more ridiculous than confident.

"Did you just try to command me?" His voice was surprisingly quiet, his tone almost icy calm as he looked down at me, the play of the shadows on his face making the darkest of his facial scars stand out more than usual. I absently wondered if whoever had given it to him had started the battle by doing something as stupid as trying to command the Enforcer.

Still, it was too late for me to back down now, and I still figured this was probably the only opportunity I'd have to show my soon-to-be-husband that I wasn't a doormat he could walk all over. "No," I contradicted, the conviction and strength in that one word surprising me, "I didn't try; I did. You don't get to talk to me like that, because you don't outrank me! You're right," I added, then, "I'm not prepared like you are, but I'm trying to make up for that. I'm trying to get prepared, and in the mean time I'm trying to be as respectful as possible to the insufferable ass I'm apparently supposed to marry!"

For a brief moment, I was almost proud of myself for actually having the guts to say that out loud, but my pride was quickly replaced with dread the second my brain actually registered that I'd been stupid enough to actually say that out loud to a werewolf's face. That dread only grew when I noticed the dark, almost amused smile on his lips. "Really?" he drew out, tone condescending.

I didn't get a chance to respond before I was suddenly hit by what felt like a physical blow to my abdomen. I wanted to fight it – I really did! – but the feeling was just too powerful, and I couldn't help but flinch back a step and immediately dip my head, my chin tucking into my chest. Unfortunately it didn't stop there. I was on my knees a moment later, unable to fight the urge to curl over and bring myself closer to a fetal position. It felt as if the air was weighing down on me, pushing me toward the ground, but more than that, it was starting to feel as if I couldn't even manage a shallow breath.

The Enforcer dropped into an easy crouch in front of me, movements fluid and unconcerned, as he dipped his head down and brought those feral eyes of his into my line of sight. There was a cruel satisfaction in the twist of his lips, and it was in that moment that I realized Gwendolyn had been completely wrong: No, Nikolai wasn't unaware of how to control his dominance-exuding thing; he knew exactly what he was doing with it. He enjoyed it.

"Don't ever try to order me around again. Do you understand?" The question appeared to be rhetorical, for he didn't wait for an answer, simply flashing that cruel little smile and leaning forward conspiratorially. "Hey, if I'm such an insufferable ass," he added, voice no more than a whisper, "then maybe you shouldn't marry me."

"Nikolai!"

I had trouble being relieved when the air only thickened at the gruff shout of the Sovereign, but at the very least the Enforcer was back on his feet, once again putting some space between us. "Relax, I didn't even lay a finger on her, so there's n—"

He was cut off by a long-winded, angry-sounding comment made in what I could only guess was once again Romanian, and I didn't even bother to try to guess at what was being said. Instead, I focused on trying to catch my breath, my mind reeling.

He was right; he hadn't so much as laid a finger on me, but he'd still brought me to the ground in only a few seconds. That was a disturbing thought on its own, even without considering how much he'd seemingly enjoyed the whole ordeal. He'd made a point of it all, trying to make it clear that he didn't even need to use force to take me down, suggesting I back out of the agreement I made with the Council, that I choose not to marry him…

That was his goal.

It occurred to then me that Nikolai was much smarter than Cannizzaro had ever given him credit for. He was the Enforcer, after all; it was his sole job to keep every werewolf in the world in line, to make sure not even a single human was so much as threatened by a werewolf. He'd been very careful not to 'even lay a finger on me', not to actually say anything that could be construed as a threat. No, he'd exuded dominance or whatever, he'd been a dismissive asshole, and he'd pretended at first to not be able to communicate with me. He wanted me to feel threatened without actually having been threatened; he wanted me to back out without giving the Council anything to throw a fit about.

…Then again, maybe Cannizzaro had given him too much credit.

"It's not going to work," I interrupted Nikolai's commentary, not particularly feeling bad about it, considering they were having a conversation right in front of me and purposefully excluding me from it. Still, when the Sovereign turned to look at me, I tacked on an apologetic "Excuse me, Your Excellency," for good measure. Carefully, I pushed myself to my feet again, taking a moment to brush of my slacks before looking right back into the Enforcer's eyes – something that had become much easier to do now that the tension in the air had retreated to relatively normal levels. "You think you're going to make me change my mind and leave, right? And that somehow that will get you out of this mess, too? I'm not the only Noble who would agree to this marriage, you know," I informed him, "and the ones that would take my place in an instant? Trust me when I say you really wouldn't want them here."

His response was simple and neither confirmed nor denied my accusation. "No one wants any of your kind here."

"Nikolai, that's enough!" Remington snapped, before tacking on another comment once again in Romanian. Though I didn't have the slightest idea what was being said, the way that the Enforcer immediately dipped his head and retreated back into the library told me everything I needed to know.

"I wasn't exactly finished with—"

"I know," the Sovereign interrupted, his expression kind as he lifted a hand in a gesture for me to slow down. "He's in there waiting for you; I made it exceptionally clear to him that he's to drop the act from here on out."

I couldn't help but arch a brow at that. "The act? It seemed pretty convincing to me."

"He's very good at playing a role given to him," was all that the Sovereign said on the matter, "and I've just reminded him that his role at the moment is that of your betrothed. I expect you'll find him much more agreeable." For the slightest of seconds, the smile faltered from his face and his expression darkened. "And if you don't, then I fully expect you to come to me immediately and let me know. Is that clear?"

"Crystal, Sir," I chirped out quickly, once more feeling as if I was being scolded. And to think, I'd thought moving out of my childhood home and getting engaged would be the end to feeling like a small child.

The Sovereign grinned in response. "Good! Now, please allow me to apologize on Nikolai's behalf; he was not in any way threatening you, and I deeply apologize if he made it seem as if he was. He's just… not used to working with anyone else, or interacting with Nobles, or… well interacting in general. He won't give you any trouble again."

I found it somewhat funny that he thought he could reassure me with that claim when he'd only just made me promise to let him know if Nikolai did give me any more trouble. Still, I nodded my head in acknowledgement of his words, and that seemed to be enough.

Without further ado, Remington simply turned and sent a long look over his shoulder at the end of the hall. "Here," he suggested, before making his way over to retrieve the box Nikolai had discarded earlier. I followed awkwardly after him, not quite sure if here was supposed to mean come here or stay here. Apparently I'd chosen correctly, for he handed it off to me immediately and nodded toward the library's door. "Why don't you take those in to him, allow him to apologize, and go ahead and get anything else off your chest that you might like to?"

There wasn't really a way to decline that offer, even if I hadn't still had a few choice words to share with my husband-to-be. And so, with yet another simple nod, I readjusted my grip on the box and made my way back toward the library.

When I entered, Nikolai was seated at the desk, where I'd been sitting only moments ago, with his hands clasped on the table in front of him and a neutral expression on his face. "I apologize for my behavior; I was acting immaturely and it was a poor reflection on my ranking and my species as a whole. I would very much appreciate it if we could put this all behind us." He didn't look up at me once, his voice completely monotonous as he spoke what he'd obviously been mentally rehearsing.

I was almost petty enough to comment on his obvious lack of sincerity, but I managed to stick to the high road instead, sighing as I placed the box down on the table's corner. "Why don't we just start over?" I offered instead, dropping down into the seat across from him. "Except, let's skip the whole language-barrier thing, yeah? I'm Katie."

"Nikolai." He was still looking down at his hands, though I was sure the action was not one of submission, only one of hidden anger.

I tried to shrug it off. "Look," I started, before clearing my throat and waiting until he finally brought his gaze up to mine. I regretted it almost instantly, for even though he seemed to be holding back on the whole exuding dominance thing – which I really needed to do some research into and come up with a better name for – those half-amber half-grey eyes of his were still intimidating as hell on their own. I cleared my throat again and tried to restart: "Look, I understand why you're against this agreement between the Council and the Nobles – I do! – but I need you to understand that I'm not your enemy here. Yes, I had a choice in accepting this arrangement and you didn't, but I really am the best of your options, I promise you that. Hell, your Sovereigns are the ones that chose me; doesn't that carry any significance for you?"

He didn't say a word.

I felt awkward in the silence.

"I made a promise that I wouldn't stand in your way, alright? Like I said, you're right about me not being prepared; I know that. I respect that. And I'm sure you can do the job better without me – I don't doubt that at all – but that's just not the situation we're in right now. This is my job too, now; I expect you to include me in it, and I expect you to treat me with the respect that my new ranking requires. Okay?"

"Understood," he confirmed just as monotonously as before.

I sighed, feeling like I was getting nowhere, but not willing to give up just yet. "Is there anything you want me to understand? Aside from not ever ordering you around again?"

I'd half expected at least a little smirk of a response, but he said nothing, only blinking back at me.

Taking a deep breath, I fixed a tight smile on my lips. "What's your favorite color?"

That earned a dark, unappreciative glower.

I couldn't win; I accepted it. Somewhat huffily leaning back into my seat, I pushed the box toward him. "Alright then, I guess we're done here. So… I'm sure you've got better things to do than sit around here because Remington told you to. I take it these are important? Is there anything I can do to help?"

He was on his feet before I had even officially dismissed him, and it was very hard for me to control the urge to spitefully request he sit back down. "I can handle it myself."

"I'm sure you can," I was quick to confirm, making sure to speak before he was able to snatch up the documents and disappear. "That's not what I asked, though. How about this: please allow me to be of assistance."

Without a moment's hesitation, as if he'd been expecting my request all along, he reached into the box and pulled out the top file, tossing it haphazardly in front of me. "Can you read French?" he questioned, tone more than a little bit mocking. He tossed the next one down as well. "How about Brazilian Portuguese?" Another landed atop the others. "Swahili?"

Wait, could he? "I—"

"You can't be of assistance," he interrupted, "not with this, no matter how much you want to be. And before you ask: no, none of these are in German or in English; I've already dealt with those weekly reports." He made a point of somewhat roughly collecting the three folders from the table, before just as roughly dropping them back into the box. "You want to be helpful, then keep up with the reading Remington assigned to you. Only, I'd suggest you not waste time by trying to teach yourself anything out of the language books, this time."

"Nikolai," I interjected somewhat irritably, "you can't possibly expect me to just read forever; that's not what I'm here—"

"That's exactly what I expect this week," he contradicted as he picked the box back up again. "You want to be included? Fine. You can read the German and English reports next week, but there's no point in giving them to you now when they've already been dealt with this week. Fair?"

It wasn't, but I couldn't exactly think of a way to legitimately object.

"Good. In that case, I'll see you next week, Kitten."

"It's Kate—" I started to object once again, but he was already gone. And, besides, it occurred to me that this time I'd introduced myself as Katie, not Katelyn. Once more, I was sure he wasn't actually making a mistake, but purposefully trying to irritate me.

Or, perhaps, to remind me yet again how much I didn't belong. A kitten in the wolf's den – oh, the irony.