Emma’s hand shot up. “Last week, sir?”

“Correct, Emma. Studies show that Strigoi attacks have not decreased since this time last year. There’s some evidence they might be increasing. Why do you think this is?”

“Because the guardians aren’t truly hunting them down as they should be?” That, again, was from Emma. Oh my God, I thought. I’m rooming with the Sydney Sage of re-education.

“That’s certainly one theory,” said Harrison. “Guardians are much more interested in protecting Moroi passively than actively seeking out Strigoi for the good of us all. In fact, when suggestions have been made to increase their numbers by recruiting at younger ages, the Moroi have selfishly declined. They apparently have enough to consider themselves safe and feel no need to help the rest of us.”

I had to bite my tongue. I knew for a fact that wasn’t true. The Moroi were suffering from low guardian numbers because there was a shortage of dhampirs. Dhampirs couldn’t reproduce with other dhampirs. They had been born in an age when humans and Moroi freely mixed, and now their race was continued by Moroi mixing with dhampirs, which always resulted in dhampir children. It was a genetic mystery even to the Alchemists. I knew from my friends that guardian ages were a hot topic right now, one that the Moroi queen, Vasilisa, was passionate about. She was fighting to keep dhampirs from becoming full-fledged guardians until they were eighteen, not out of selfishness, but because she thought they deserved a chance at adolescence before going out and risking their lives.

I knew now wasn’t the time to share my insight, though. Even if they knew it, no one wanted to hear it, and I couldn’t risk telling it. I needed to toe the line and act like I was on the road to redemption in order to secure as many privileges as I could, no matter how painful it was to listen as Harrison continued his tirade.

“Another factor may be that the Moroi themselves are aiding the increase in the Strigoi population. If you ask them, most Moroi will claim they want nothing to do with Strigoi. But can we really trust that, when they can so easily turn into those vile monsters? It’s practically a stage of development for the Moroi. They live ‘normal’ lives with children and jobs, then when age starts to catch up with them . . . well, how convenient to just drink a little longer from their ‘willing’ victims, claim it was an ‘accident’ . . . and poof!” The number of air quotes Harrison used as he spoke was truly mind-boggling to follow. “They turn Strigoi, immortal and untouchable. How could they not? The Moroi are not strong-willed creatures, not like humans. And certainly not strong-souled. How can such creatures resist the lure of eternal life?” Harrison shook his head in mock sadness. “This, I’m afraid, is why Strigoi populations aren’t dropping. Our so-called allies aren’t exactly helping us.”

“Where’s your proof?”

That voice of dissent was a shock to everyone in the room—especially when they realized it had come from me. I wanted to smack myself and take the words back. I’d barely been out of imprisonment for two hours! But it was too late, and the words were out there. My own personal interest in the Moroi aside, I couldn’t stand when people posited speculation and sensationalism as facts. The Alchemists should’ve known better, having trained me in the arts of logic.

All those eyes fell on me again, and Harrison came to stand in front of my desk. “It’s Sydney, correct? So charming to have you in class so fresh out of your reflection time. It’s especially charming to hear you speak so soon after joining us. Most newcomers bide their time. Now . . . would you be so kind as to repeat what you just said?”

I swallowed, again hating myself for having spoken, but it was too late to change things. “I asked where your proof was, sir. Your points are compelling and even seem reasonable, but if we don’t have proof to back them up, then we’re nothing but monsters ourselves, spreading lies and propaganda.”

There was a collective intake of breath from the rest of the detainees, and Harrison narrowed his eyes. “I see. Well then, do you have an explanation backed by ‘proof’?” More air quotes.

Why, why, why couldn’t I have just stayed quiet?

“Well, sir,” I began slowly. “Even if there were as many dhampir guardians as Strigoi, they wouldn’t be evenly matched. Strigoi are almost always stronger and faster, and while some guardians do make solo kills, often they need to hunt Strigoi in groups. When you look at the actual dhampir population, you see it’s not a match for the Strigoi one. The dhampirs are outnumbered. They aren’t able to reproduce as easily as Moroi and humans—or even Strigoi, if you want to call it that.”

“Well, from what I understand,” said Harrison, “you are an expert at reproduction with Moroi. Perhaps you’d be personally interested in helping increase those dhampir numbers yourself, yes?”

Snickers sounded from around the class, and I found myself blushing in spite of myself. “That wasn’t my intent here at all, sir. I’m just saying, if we’re going to critically analyze the reasons why—”

“Sydney,” he interrupted, “I’m afraid we won’t be analyzing anything, as it’s obvious you aren’t quite ready to participate with the rest of us.”

My heart stopped. No. No, no, no. They couldn’t send me back to the darkness, not when I’d only just gotten out.

“Sir—”

“I think,” he continued, “that a little purging might make you better able to participate with the rest of us.”