Lena stared in the steam-clouded mirror at her blood-stained face, her blood-stained hands, and her silken dress torn and smeared with blood.

She blinked and wiped a hand across the mirror.

Her face wasn't splattered with blood. Her hands weren't blood-stained, they were just raw from scrubbing too much. And she wasn't wearing the silken dress; she was wearing a towel.

Had it really only been twenty-two hours since they fled the Polkovnik's residence? Had it been such a short time since the Polkovnik's hands had been on her? She turned to view the bruises he'd left behind. They were a repulsive blackish-blue. There was another one on the inside of her thigh that hurt when she walked; Little King hadn't noticed that one yet.

The knock on the door made her jump. "Lena? Are you all right?" Little King asked.

All right? No. She wasn't all right. How could she be all right?

"Sì. Sto bene," she lied. "I'll be out in just a moment."

She looked around. She didn't have anything to wear except the clothes Little King had picked up for her that morning. She never asked how he got them exactly; money was tight. The trousers were a little big but comfortable. The blouse was a perfect fit. She slipped into them easily and left the bathroom.

Lena grabbed the complimentary comb from the table just outside the bathroom door. This hotel was much nicer than the one they'd been in that morning, but still, all they had was a comb. Little King hadn't thought to acquire a brush for her, something of which he'd already apologized for a hundred times. Lena would just have to do her best to work through her tangle of wet hair with the comb.

Little King was standing by the bed, the papers from his satchel spread before him; his back was towards the bathroom. Lena didn't mean to let her eyes linger on his backside, but she couldn't seem to help it. Had his trousers always been that fitted around the buttocks? He looked over his shoulder at her and she quickly looked down at her hair, pretending to be fixated on the knot that was there. She was furious with her cheeks for turning red and betraying her.

It had just been sex. Granted, it was rather good sex. At least, she supposed that's what good sex felt like; she'd never acutally felt anything that intense before. And surely he didn't really mean what he'd said; though, she'd never known him to say something he didn't mean. She was very confused by it all.

She wondered if he'd want to have sex again that night, and if he did, would she let him? She might get more clarity in her feelings if she did let him, but then, if he said those words again would that give her clarity or just confuse her more? She really didn't know what to think and she was beginning to feel a mild jabbing pain behind her eye. Wine would alleviate the pain, but they had no wine. No nastoika either.

Lena jumped when Little King gently touched her arm.

"Sorry." He quickly removed his hand and stepped back. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry, Lena. I..."

"*Fermare. Please." Lena did not want to hear him apologize again for something that wasn't his fault. She didn't like seeing that guilty look on his face. She'd much rather see the look he'd had in the early hours of the morning when he...

Something turned and twisted in Lena's stomach at the thought. She shoved it aside and walked past him.

"What's all this?" she asked.

Edmund closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, an action he instantly regretted. There were many things he regretted from the last twenty-four hours. Principally among them were drinking an entire bottle of nastoika with a head wound and failing to protect Ileana the way he should have. He'd been too slow, too careful, and too blind to the whole ordeal. As a result, Ileana was attacked and her life had been in jeopardy.

Then he, himself, had slept with her, not once but twice. He only regretted that because he'd done so while under the influence of nastoika and with a few broken ribs. He couldn't fully devote his full care and attention to worshiping her body or her mind the way she deserved; he was, however, fully resolved to correct that oversight at the earliest possible moment.

"Edmund?"

Edmund was drawn from his thoughts at the feel of Ileana's hand on his arm. He looked up and saw the fear that was still plainly evident in her eyes. She didn't need a self-pitying fool or a love-sick boy right now. She needed someone she could rely on. Edmund shoved all other thoughts aside and joined her at the bedside.

"This is everything I could find at the house. I was hoping to find something I might have missed. It was all a set up. They were expecting the both of us. The Polkovnik's men attacked me the moment you two were out of sight. I'm trying to figure out who was behind the set-up."

"And have you?"

"No," he said regrettably, once more feeling like a failure. He ran a hand through his hair.

"And no wonder. How can anyone read this? It's all symbols and strange lines." She picked up a paper to examine it more closely.

"It's Cyrillic."

"Another language?"

"Of a sort. It's the same Russian language, just a different alphabet. Not every language uses the same Latin-based alphabet we do."

Ileana set the paper back on the bed. "This world is so much bigger than I ever thought possible."

Edmund didn't say anything. What could he have said? Nothing would make the world seem smaller or less frightening. There was nothing he could say or do that would ease the tension he saw building in her shoulders. Well, maybe there was one thing he could do, but now was not the time for that. Later. Later there could be more, much more, a lifetime of more...

If his failures didn't prevent that from happening.

"What does this mean?" Ileana had picked up another page and was studying it. "This symbol is repeated several times."

Edmund banished the thoughts of more from his mind and moved in closer. "That? Oh, that doesn't mean anything. It's a stray mark."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Because I've seen it before."

"Where?"

"On the..." she paused, swallowed and began again. "On the Polkovnik. He had this right behind his ear. I remember thinking it was a very odd place to have a scar."

"You're certain?"

"Sì. I nibbled on his ear enough for it to ingrain on my brian." Her face pinched in disgust.

Edmund had to shove aside his own disgust and anger as an image came to mind of Ileana's body pressed against the Polkovnik's, while his hands roamed her body freely. Ileana had thought they'd been alone for their private concerts, but Edmund had been there; he saw everything.

He stepped forward some more and picked up a few pages himself. His eyes quickly scanned the documents. Ileana was right; that symbol was everywhere. More specifically it was everywhere the document made a reference to a particular person.

"Ileana, you're brilliant." He'd kissed her cheek without thinking about it, and then stood there, frozen like an idiota. She stared at him blankly like she didn't know what to make of the kiss.

"I...uh...I think you just solved part of the riddle," he said.

"What riddle?"

"The riddle of these documents." Great. Now he was pretending as though the kiss had never happened. Perfect. "These markings," he pointed to the paper in his hand, "are meant to represent the Polkovnik. And this document outlines an exchange."

"What sort of exchange?"

"I...I haven't quite worked that out yet. It's hard to follow. It keeps jumping back and forth between the Polkovnik and this other person I haven't identified."

"The rat?"

She really was brilliant. "Probably," he admitted. "They keep arguing over the value of the exchange."

"And they put it in writing?" she asked skeptically, and for good reason.

"The Polkovnik did at least. He probably didn't want to chance a phone call or a face-to-face meeting."

Lena let Little King resume his inspections of the documents, now with the new piece of knowledge to guide him. Meanwhile, she resumed combing through her hair. She took a seat away from the bed and watched him as he worked. The top few buttons of his shirt were open, revealing the uppermost portion of his chest; she remembered running her hands over his chest in the early morning hours and the way it felt beneath her fingertips. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and she could see his arms flex and relax as he picked the papers. His eye was still swollen shut but already looking much better than it had that morning when she stitched it.

Little King set one page down and reached for another, but he reached too aggressively; he winced and held his side. Lena decided she disliked the look of pain on his face almost as much as she disliked the guilt. She'd much rather see the look she saw only ten hours prior when they'd lain together before leaving the hotel.

She found herself wondering how many other women had brought that look upon him.

Lena had to concede that Little King was attractive; she'd be an idiota not to, and she was not an idiota. His dark hair, warm brown eyes, and his fit and lean build acquired him attention from various women. She had seen how the eyes of the other women followed him around the room. She saw how they smiled a little brighter when he spoke to them. She knew their touch lingered a little longer than was necessary, but he never reciprocated. At least, he hadn't when he was around her. Still, Lena knew that morning hadn't been his first time. He'd been too confident in his movements, too sure of his touches.

Lena couldn't fathom why that irked her so much. He'd clearly not been the first man she'd lain with, even if he was the first one to make her enjoy it and wish for more. Did she wish for more? She touched the spot on her cheek where he had kissed her. She'd been caught off guard when it happened; no one had ever kissed her cheek like that before. It was so innocent, and yet intimate somehow. She didn't have a chance to respond before he carried on. Perhaps it had been a mistake? He certainly acted like it had been a mistake.

Maybe it was all a mistake. She'd gotten too close, too friendly with Little King. She made him say and do things he didn't mean to do. She made him take actions that caused him pain. The mission had failed because of her. If she had just done her job, if she had just lain with the Polkovnik then none of this would have happened.

Lena didn't know she was crying until it was too late. Little King was already kneeling before her telling her everything would be all right, that she was safe, and that nothing and no one would touch her again so long as he was there to protect her. He made promises he shouldn't have made. And he apologized for things that weren't his fault.

"I should have given him what he wanted."

"No. I never should have let it get that far."

"'You will give me what I was promised.'"

"What?"

"That's what he kept saying. 'You will give me what I was promised.' I should have given it to him."

"No. You didn't promise him anything."

"I did," she cried. "With my dancing and my kissing, I promised him something I couldn't deliver. I kept thinking about Meri and what she would think of me. And you. I thought how disgusted you'd be with me if I went through with it."

"I'd never be disgusted with you."

"And I...I just couldn't go through with it. I couldn't do it. I failed."

"No, you..."

Whatever he was about to say, Little King didn't say it. He pulled back and stared at her strangely.

"You... It was you," he said.

"What?"

He ran a hand through his hair and turned towards the bed. Lena understood.

"No! No, it wasn't me!" She jumped to her feet. "I swear, I've never seen him before. It's not me. I didn't do it; I'm not a rat!" she cried in Italian.

Little King turned back to her and took her face in his hands.

"No. No, you misunderstood." He leaned his forehead against hers. "You were the exchange."

"But I never..."

"Listen to me, Lena," He pulled back to look her in the eye. "The Polkovnik made an exchange for you."

Lena nodded. "Sì. I was to lie with him, and he was to give me information on the rat."

"No. That wasn't the exchange he made. I was."

"What do you mean?"

"Those other men," he said slowly. "The ones I dispatched, they were the Polkovnik's men. They came in uniform when everyone else was in suit and tie, and they arrived just before the party ended. I thought it curious, but I brushed it off thinking they were simply late. It was stupid of me, but I was focused on trying to find something useful before... But I was never going to find the rat there; I was never meant to find him."

"What are you talking about? That's what we were sent to do."

"The Polkovnik's men were there for me. They came to kill me while he..."

"But how could they have known?" she asked. "Do you think the rat told them?"

"Yes. I do."

"But how? Who else knew about the mission besides you, me, and Dan..."

"Daniels," Little King finished for her. "Daniels was the only other person who knew the specifics of the operation. We kept it small, contained."

"But then..." Lena felt the air escaping her lungs.

"We're not safe here." Little King gave voice to her fears. "We need to keep moving. We need to get to London. I'll drive."

Fermare: stop