The Indigo Spell

I stared in disbelief. He was watching me with amusement and had no doubt been waiting to see how long it would take me to notice him. I didn’t even bother asking what he was doing here. I’d known he was flying out of LAX, and through some wacky twist of happenstance, I’d been bumped to his flight.

“This is impossible,” I exclaimed. The scientist in me was too amazed to fully realize the uncomfortable nature of the situation I now found myself in. “It’s one thing for me to get moved to a new flight. But to end up next to you? Do you know what the odds of that are? It’s incredible.”

“Some might call it fate,” he said. “Or maybe there just aren’t that many flights to Philadelphia.” He raised a glass of clear liquid to me in a toast. Since I’d never seen Adrian drink water, I had to assume it was vodka. “Nice to see you, by the way.”

“Um, you too.”

The engines roared to life around us, momentarily sparing me from conversation. Reality began sinking in. I was trapped on a five-hour flight with Adrian Ivashkov. Five hours. Five hours sitting only a few inches from him, smelling his overpriced cologne and looking into those knowing eyes. What was I going to do? Nothing, of course. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to escape since even first-class passengers weren’t allowed parachutes. My heart began to race as I frantically groped for something to say. He was watching me in silence, still with that small smirk, waiting for me to lead the conversation.

“So,” I said at last, staring at my hands. “How’s, uh, your car?”

“I left it out on the street. Figured it’ll be fine there while I’m gone.”

I jerked my head up, jaw dropping. “You did what? They’ll tow it if it’s left there overnight!”

Adrian was laughing before I even finished. “So that’s what it takes to get a passionate reaction, huh?” He shook his head. “Don’t worry, Sage. I was just kidding. It’s tucked away safely in my building’s parking lot.”

I felt my cheeks burn. I hated that I’d fallen into his joke and was even a little embarrassed that I’d just flipped out over a car. Admittedly, it wasn’t just any car. It was a beautiful, classic Mustang that Adrian had recently purchased. In fact, he’d bought it to impress me, pretending he couldn’t drive manual transmission in order to spend more time with me while I taught him. I thought the car was amazing, but it still astonished me that he would have gone to that much trouble for us to be together.

We reached our cruising altitude, and the flight attendant returned to get Adrian another drink. “Anything for you, miss?” she asked.

“Diet Coke,” I said automatically.

Adrian tsked once she was gone. “You could’ve gotten that for free back in coach.”

I rolled my eyes. “Do I have to spend the next five hours being harassed? If so, I’ll go back in coach and let some lucky person ‘upgrade’ to my seat.”

Adrian held up his hands in a placating gesture. “No, no. Carry on. I’ll entertain myself.”

Entertaining himself turned out to be doing a crossword puzzle in one of the in-flight magazines. I took out Ms. Terwilliger’s book and tried to read, but it was hard to focus with him beside me. I kept sneaking glances out of the corner of my eye, partly to see if he was looking at me and partly just to study his features. He was the same Adrian as ever, annoyingly good looking with his tousled brown hair and sculpted face. I vowed I wouldn’t speak to him, but when I noticed he hadn’t written anything in a while and was tapping his pen loudly on the tray, I couldn’t help myself.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Seven-letter word for ‘cotton gin pioneer.’”

“Whitney,” I replied.

He leaned over and wrote in the letters. “‘Dominates the Mohs’ scale.’ Also seven letters.”

“Diamond.”

Five words later, I realized what was happening. “Hey,” I told him. “I am not doing this.”

He looked up at me with angelic eyes. “Doing what?”

“You know what. You’re luring me in. You know I can’t resist—”

“Me?” he suggested.

I pointed at the magazine. “Random trivia.” I angled my body away from him and made a big show of opening my book. “I have work to do.”

I felt Adrian look over my shoulder, and I tried to ignore how aware of his proximity I was. “Looks like Jackie’s still got you working hard in her class.” Adrian had met Ms. Terwilliger recently and had somehow charmed his way into a first-name basis.

“This one’s more like an extracurricular activity,” I explained.

“Really? I thought you were pretty against doing any more with this stuff than you had to.”

I shut the book in frustration. “I am! But then she said—” I bit off the words, reminding myself that I shouldn’t engage with Adrian any more than I had to. It was just too easy to slip back into old, friendly behaviors with him. It felt right when, obviously, it was wrong.

“Then what?” he prompted, voice gentle.

I looked up at him and saw no smugness or mockery. I didn’t even see any of the burning hurt that had plagued me these last few weeks. He actually looked concerned, which momentarily distracted me from Ms. Terwilliger’s task. Seeing him this way contrasted drastically with what had followed in the wake of our kiss. I’d been so nervous at the thought of sitting with him on this flight, and yet, here he was, ready to support me. Why the change?

I hesitated, unsure what to do. Since last night, I’d been turning her words and the vision over and over in my head, trying to figure out what they meant. Adrian was the only person who knew about my involvement with her and magic (aside from Jill), and until this moment, I hadn’t realized how badly I was dying to discuss this with someone. So, I cracked and told him the whole story of my desert adventure.

When I finished, I was surprised to see how dark his expression had become. “It’s one thing for her to try to get you to learn spells here and there. But it’s a totally different thing for her to drag you into something dangerous.”

His ardent concern surprised me a little—but maybe it shouldn’t have. “From the way she talked, though, it wasn’t like it was her doing. She seemed pretty upset about . . . well, whatever all this means.”

Adrian pointed at the book. “And that’ll help somehow?”

“I guess.” I ran my fingers over the cover and embossed Latin words. “It has protection and attack spells—things that are a bit more hard core than what I’ve ever done. I don’t like it, and these aren’t even the really advanced ones. She told me to skip those.”

“You don’t like magic, period,” he reminded me. “But if these can keep you safe, then maybe you shouldn’t ignore them.”

I hated admitting when he was right. It only encouraged him. “Yeah, but I just wish I knew what I was trying to stay safe from—no. No. We can’t do this.”

Without even realizing it, I’d slipped into the way things used to be, talking to Adrian in that easy, comfortable way we had. In fact, I’d even been confiding in him. He looked startled.

“Do what? I stopped asking you for crossword help, didn’t I?”

I took a deep breath, bracing myself. I’d known this moment was coming, no matter how much I wanted to put it off. I just hadn’t expected it to come while on a plane ride.

“Adrian, we have to talk about what happened. Between you and me,” I declared.

He took a moment to consider my words. “Well . . . last I knew, nothing was happening between you and me.”

I dared a look at him. “Exactly. I’m sorry for what happened . . . what I said, but it was all true. We have to move past this and go on with our lives in a normal way. It’s for the good of our group in Palm Springs.”

“Funny, I have moved past it,” he said. “You’re the one bringing it up.”

I blushed again. “But it’s because of you! You’ve spent the last few weeks all moody and sulking, hardly ever talking to me. And when you do, there’s usually some nasty barb in it.” While recently having dinner at Clarence Donahue’s, I’d seen one of the most terrifying spiders ever come crawling into the living room. Mustering all my courage, I’d caught the creepy little beast and set him free. Adrian’s comment on my brave act had been, “Wow, I didn’t know you actually faced down things that scared you. I thought your normal response was to run kicking and screaming from them and pretend they don’t exist.”

“You’re right about the attitude,” he said now, nodding along with my words. Once again, he looked remarkably serious. “And I’m sorry.”

“You . . . are?” I could only stare. “So . . . you’re done with all of that . . . stuff? Done with, uh, feeling that way?” I couldn’t bring myself to elaborate. Done with being in love with me.

“Oh, no,” he said cheerfully. “Not at all.”

“But you just said—”

“I’m done with the pouting,” he said. “Done with being moody—well, I mean, I’m always a little moody. That’s what Adrian Ivashkov’s all about. But I’m done with the excessive stuff. That didn’t get me anywhere with Rose. It won’t get me anywhere with you.”

“Nothing will get you anywhere with me,” I exclaimed.

“I don’t know about that.” He put on an introspective look that was both unexpected and intriguing. “You’re not as much of a lost cause as she was. I mean, with her, I had to overcome her deep, epic love with a Russian warlord. You and I just have to overcome hundreds of years’ worth of deeply ingrained prejudice and taboo between our two races. Easy.”

“Adrian!” I felt my temper beginning to flare. “This isn’t a joke.”

“I know. It’s certainly not to me. And that’s why I’m not going to give you a hard time.” He paused dramatically. “I’ll just love you whether you want me to or not.”

The attendant came by with hot towels, putting our conversation on hold and allowing his slightly disturbing words to hang in the air between us. I was dumbfounded and couldn’t muster a response until after she came back to collect the cloths.

“Whether I want you to or not? What on earth does that mean?”

Adrian grimaced. “Sorry. That came off creepier than I intended. I just mean, I don’t care if you say we can’t be together. I don’t care if you think I’m the most evil, unnatural creature walking the earth.”

For the briefest of moments, his choice of words threw me back in time, to when he’d told me I was the most beautiful creature walking the earth. Those words haunted me now, just as they had then. We’d been sitting in a dark, candlelit room, and he’d looked at me in a way that no one ever had—

Stop it, Sydney. Focus.

“You can think whatever you want, do whatever you want,” Adrian continued, unaware of my traitorous thoughts. There was a remarkable calm about him. “I’m going to just go on loving you, even if it’s hopeless.”

I don’t know why that shocked me as much as it did. I glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “I . . . what? No. You can’t!”

He tilted his head to the side as he regarded me carefully. “Why? It doesn’t hurt you or anything. I told you I won’t bother you if you don’t want me to. And if you do, well, I’m all about that. So what’s it matter if I just love you from afar?”

I didn’t entirely know. “Because . . . because you can’t!”

“Why not?”

“You . . . you need to move on,” I managed. Yes, that was a sound reason. “You need to find someone else. You know I don’t—that I can’t. Well, you know. You’re wasting your time with me.”

He remained firm. “It’s my time to waste.”

“But it’s crazy! Why would you do that?”

“Because I can’t help doing it,” he said with a shrug. “And hey, if I keep loving you, maybe you’ll eventually crack and love me too. Hell, I’m pretty sure you’re already half in love with me.”

“I am not! And everything you just said is ridiculous. That’s terrible logic.”

Adrian returned to his crossword puzzle. “Well, you can think what you want, so long as you remember—no matter how ordinary things seem between us—I’m still here, still in love with you, and care about you more than any other guy, evil or otherwise, ever will.”

“I don’t think you’re evil.”

“See? Things are already looking promising.” He tapped the magazine with his pen again. “‘Romantic Victorian poetess.’ Eight letters.”

I didn’t answer. I had been rendered speechless. Adrian never mentioned that dangerous topic again for the rest of the flight. Most of the time, he kept to himself, and when he did speak, it was about perfectly safe topics, like our dinner and the upcoming wedding. Anyone sitting with us would never have known there was anything weird between us.

But I knew.

That knowledge ate me up. It was all-consuming. And as the flight progressed, and eventually landed, I could no longer look at Adrian the same way. Each time we made eye contact, I just kept thinking of his words: I’m still here, still in love with you, and care about you more than any other guy ever will. Part of me felt offended. How dare he? How dare he love me whether I wanted him to or not? I had told him not to! He had no right to.

And the rest of me? The rest of me was scared.

If I keep loving you, maybe you’ll eventually crack and love me too.

It was ludicrous. You couldn’t make someone love you just by loving them. It didn’t matter how charming he was, how good looking, or how funny. An Alchemist and a Moroi could never be together. It was impossible.

I’m pretty sure you’re already half in love with me.

Very impossible.

\TRUE TO HIS WORD, Adrian made no other mention of the relationship—or lack thereof—between us. Every once in a while, though, I could swear I saw something in his eyes, something that brought back an echo of his proclamation about continuing to love me. Or maybe it was just his typical impertinence.
A connecting flight and an hour-long car ride later, it was night by the time we finally reached the small resort town in the Pocono Mountains. Getting out of the car was a shock. December in Pennsylvania was very, very different from December in Palm Springs. Crisp, frigid air hit me, the kind that freezes your mouth and nose. A layer of fresh snow covered everything, glittering in the light of the same full moon that Ms. Terwilliger and I had worked magic by. The stars were out here in just as much force as the stark desert, though the cold air made them glitter in a sharper way.

Adrian stayed in our hired car but leaned out as the driver handed me my small suitcase. “Need any help with that?” Adrian asked. His breath made a frosty cloud in the air.

It was an uncharacteristic offer from him. “I’ll be fine. Thanks, though. I take it you aren’t staying here?” I nodded toward the bed-and-breakfast the car had stopped at.

Adrian pointed down the road, toward a large, lit-up hotel perched on a hill. “Up there. That’s where all the parties will be, if you’re interested. They’re probably just getting started.”

I shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cold. Moroi normally ran on a nocturnal schedule, starting their days around sunset. Those living among humans—like Adrian—had to adapt to a daytime schedule. But here, in a small town that must be bursting with Moroi guests, he’d have the chance to return to what was for him a more natural schedule.

“Noted,” I said. A moment of awkwardness followed, but the temperature gave me an excuse for escape. “Well. I’d better get in where it’s warm. Nice, uh, traveling with you.”

He smiled. “You too, Sage. See you tomorrow.”

The car door closed, and I suddenly felt lonely without him. They drove off toward the towering hotel. My bed-and-breakfast seemed tiny by comparison, but it was cute and in good shape. The Alchemists had booked me here precisely because they knew the Moroi guests would have other accommodations. Well, most of them.

“Are you here for the wedding, dear?” asked the innkeeper as she checked me in. “We have some other guests staying with us as well.”

I nodded as I signed my credit card slip. It was no surprise that there’d be overflow to this inn, but there’d be a lot less here than the other hotel. I’d make sure to lock my door. I trusted my friends in Palm Springs, but all other Moroi and dhampirs were questionable.

Towns like this, and the inns within them, always seemed intended for couples on romantic getaways. My room was no exception. It had a California-king-size bed draped in a gauzy canopy, along with a heart-shaped Jacuzzi by the fireplace. It screamed love and romance, which brought Adrian back to my mind. I ignored it all as best I could and jotted out a quick text to Donna Stanton, a higher-ranking Alchemist who oversaw my assignment in Palm Springs.

Arrived in Pocono Hollow. Checked into inn.

Her response came quickly: Excellent. See you tomorrow. A second text followed a moment later: Lock your door.

Stanton and one other Alchemist were invited to the wedding as well. But they were already on the East Coast and could simply travel here tomorrow. I envied them.

Despite my uneasiness, I slept surprisingly well and dared to emerge for breakfast in the morning. I had no need to worry about Moroi, though. I was the only person eating in the sundrenched dining room.

“How strange,” remarked the innkeeper as she delivered my coffee and eggs. “I know many of the guests were out late, but I thought at least a few might be here to eat.” Then, to emphasize the oddness of it all, she added, “After all, breakfast is complimentary.”

The nocturnal Moroi, who were all still in bed, emboldened me to explore the town a little that day. Even though I’d prepared with boots and a heavy coat, the weather change was still a bit shocking. Palm Springs had made me soft. I soon called it an early day and spent the rest of the afternoon reading Ms. Terwilliger’s book by the fire. I flew through the first section and even went on to the advanced one she’d told me to skip. Maybe it was the fact that it was forbidden, but I couldn’t stop reading. The scope of what the book described was so gripping and consuming that I nearly jumped a foot in the air when I heard a knock at the door. I froze, wondering if some confused Moroi had mistaken my room for a friend’s. Or, worse, for a feeder’s.

My phone suddenly chimed with a text message from Stanton: We’re at your door.

Sure enough, when I opened it, I found Stanton standing there—with Ian Jansen, an Alchemist the same age as me. His presence was a surprise. I hadn’t seen Ian since he, Stanton, and I had been detained by Moroi for questioning in the escape of a dhampir fugitive. Back then, Ian had had an unwelcome crush on me. Judging from the dopey smile on his face when he saw me, things hadn’t changed. I gestured them inside, making sure to lock the door when I closed it. Like me, both Alchemists had golden lily tattoos on their left cheeks. It was the sign of our order, tattoos infused with vampire blood that gave us quick healing and were magically designed to stop us from discussing Alchemist affairs with those who didn’t know about them.

Stanton arched an eyebrow at the heart-shaped tub and then settled into a chair by the fire. “No trouble getting here?”

Aside from traveling with a good-looking vampire who thinks he’s in love with me?

“None,” I replied. I regarded Ian with a frown. “I didn’t expect you to be here. I mean, I’m glad you are, but after last time . . .” I paused as something hit me. I looked around. “It’s all of us. All of us that were, uh, under house arrest.”

Stanton nodded. “It was decided that if we’re going to foster good relations between our groups, the Moroi would start by making amends to the three of us specifically.”

Ian scowled and crossed his arms, leaning against a wall. He had brown eyes, with matching brown hair that he wore in a neat haircut. “I don’t want any ‘amends’ from those monsters after what they did to us this summer. I can’t even believe we’re here! This place is crawling with them. Who knows what’ll happen if one of them drinks too much champagne tonight and goes looking for a snack? Here we are, fresh humans.”

I wanted to tell him that was ridiculous, but by Alchemist reasoning, it was a very legitimate concern. And, reminding myself that I didn’t know most of the Moroi here, I realized perhaps his fears weren’t that unfounded.

“I guess we’ll have to stick together,” I said. That was the wrong word choice, judging from Ian’s happy smile.

The Alchemists rarely had social time, and this was no exception. Stanton soon got us down to business, going over our plans for the wedding and what our purpose was here. A file folder provided background on Sonya and Mikhail, as though I knew nothing about them. My mission and history with Sonya were secret from other Alchemists, so, for Ian’s sake, I had to nod along with everything as if it was as new to me as it was to him.

“Festivities will probably last until almost sunrise,” said Stanton, gathering up her papers once she’d finished the briefing. “Ian and I will be departing then and will drop you off at the airport on our way out. You won’t have to spend another night here.”

Ian’s face grew darkly protective. “You shouldn’t have stayed here alone last night. You should have had someone to look after you.”

“I can look after myself,” I snapped, a bit more harshly than I intended. Whether I liked it or not, Ms. Terwilliger’s training had empowered me—literally and figuratively. That, and recent self-defense classes had taught me how to watch out for myself and my surroundings. Maybe Ian meant well, but I didn’t like the idea of him—or anyone—thinking I needed coddling.

“Miss Sage is quite well as you can see,” said Stanton dryly. Ian’s crush had to be obvious to her, and it was equally obvious to me she had no use for such frivolity. Her gaze drifted to the window, which was glowing orange and red with the setting sun. “Well, then. It’s nearly time. Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

They had arrived in their dress clothes, but I still needed to prepare. They talked together while I got ready in the bathroom, but each time I emerged—to get a hairbrush or earrings or something else—I’d see Ian watching me with that sappy look. Great. This was not what I needed.

The wedding was being held in the town’s claim to fame: a huge, indoor garden that defied the wintry conditions outside. Sonya was a huge lover of plants and flowers, and this was pretty much her dream location for a wedding. The glass walls that composed the building were steamed from the drastic difference between inner and outer temperatures. The three of us stepped inside, into an entry area that was used to sell tickets during the greenhouse’s normal operating hours. Here, at last, we found the Moroi that had been hidden to me in daylight.

There were about two dozen of them milling around in this entryway, dressed in rich clothing and eerily beautiful with their slim, pale features. Some were ushers and other attendants, helping organize the event and guide guests into the atrium farther into the building. Most Moroi were simply ordinary guests stopping to sign the guest book or chat with friends and family they hadn’t seen in a long time. Around the sides, dhampirs in neat black and white suits stood sentry, watchful for any sign of danger. Their presence reminded me of a far, far greater threat than some drunken Moroi mistaking us for feeders.

Holding the event at night meant exposing us to attack by Strigoi. Strigoi were a very different type of vampire—so different, in fact, that I almost felt foolish being unnerved in this group. Strigoi were undead, made immortal by killing their victims, unlike the Moroi, who simply drank enough blood from human volunteers to sustain themselves. Strigoi were vicious, fast, and strong—and only came out at night. The sunlight that Moroi found simply uncomfortable was lethal to Strigoi. Strigoi made most of their kills on unwitting humans, but Moroi and dhampirs were their preferred food. An event like this—Moroi and dhampirs crammed into a small space—was practically like offering up a Strigoi buffet.

Eyeing the guardian dhampirs, however, I knew any Strigoi would have a difficult task breaking into this event. Guardians trained hard their entire lives, honing skills to fight Strigoi. Seeing as the Moroi queen was attending this event, I suspected the security I’d seen so far didn’t even begin to scratch the surface.

A number of those gathered here stopped talking when they saw us. Not all Moroi knew about Alchemists or how we worked with their people. So, the attendance of three non-feeder humans was a bit of an oddity. Even those who knew about Alchemists were probably surprised to see us, given the formality of our relationship. Stanton was too experienced to let her unease show, but Ian openly made the Alchemist sign against evil as Moroi and dhampir eyes studied us. I did a pretty good job of keeping my cool but wished there was at least one familiar face in this crowd.

“Miss Stanton?”

A round-cheeked Moroi hurried forward. “I’m Colleen, the wedding coordinator. We spoke on the phone?” She extended a hand, and even tough Stanton hesitated before shaking it.

“Yes, of course,” said Stanton, voice cool and proper. “Thank you for inviting us.” She introduced Ian and me.

Colleen waved us toward the atrium’s entry. “Come, come. We have your seats reserved. I’ll take you there myself.”

She swept us past the curious onlookers. As we entered the atrium, I stopped and momentarily forgot the vampires around us. The main greenhouse was magnificent. The ceiling was high and vaulted, made of that same steamed glass. A central area had been cleared and set with seats draped in flowers, very much like what you’d see at a human wedding. A dais at the front of the seating area was covered in more flowers and was obviously where the couple would take their vows.

But it was the rest of the room that took my breath away. It was like we’d stepped into some tropical jungle. Trees and other plants heavy with brightly colored flowers lined the sides, filling the humid air with a perfume that was almost dizzying. Since there was no sunlight to light up the greenhouse, torches and candles had been cleverly placed throughout the greenery, casting a mysterious—yet still romantic—light on everything. I felt as though I’d stepped into some secret Amazonian ritual space. And of course, nearly hidden among the trees and bushes, black-clad guardians paced and kept watch on everything.

Colleen led us to three seats on the right side of the seating area, marked with a RESERVED sign. They were about halfway back—not as esteemed a spot as family would get, of course, but enough to show that the Moroi thought highly of us and really were trying to undo the strained relationship caused by our detainment.

“Can I get you anything?” Colleen asked. I realized now her exuberant energy was partially nervousness. We made her almost—but certainly not quite—as uneasy as she and the others made us. “Anything at all?”

“We’re fine,” said Stanton, speaking for all of us. “Thank you.”

Colleen nodded eagerly. “Well, if you need anything—no matter how small—don’t hesitate to ask. Simply grab one of the ushers, and they’ll find me immediately.” She stood there a moment longer, wringing her hands. “I’d best check on the others. Remember—call if you need anything.”

“What I need is to get out of here,” muttered Ian once she was gone. I said nothing, not trusting any response. If I reassured him we were safe, I’d be regarded with suspicion. Yet if I acted like our lives were in danger, I’d be lying. My views were somewhere in the middle of those extremes.

Someone handed me a program, and Ian leaned a bit more closely than I would’ve liked in order to read over my shoulder. The program detailed a list of songs and readings as well as the members of the wedding party. I could tell from Ian’s face that he was expecting to see “Unholy Bloodletting” right after the Corinthians reading. His next words affirmed as much.

“They do a good job making it seem so normal, huh?” he asked, not bothering to hide the disgust in his voice. I was a bit surprised at how vicious his attitude was. I didn’t remember him being quite this extreme last summer. “Like it’s a real wedding or something.”

He also wasn’t regulating his volume, and I glanced around anxiously, making sure no one overheard. “So you’re saying it’s not a real wedding?” I whispered back.

Ian shrugged but at least took the hint and lowered his voice. “With them? It doesn’t matter. They don’t have real families or real love. They’re monsters.”

It was ironic that he mentioned “real love” just then because at that moment, Adrian and his father were ushered to the opposite side of the atrium. Adrian was always a nice dresser, but I’d never seen him in anything so formal. I hated to admit it, but the look was great on him: a navy suit and vest that was nearly black paired with a pale blue shirt and blue-and-white-striped tie. It stood out from the more somber black and gray suits most men here were wearing, but not in an outlandish or tacky way. As I was studying him, Adrian glanced up and caught my eye. He smiled and gave me a small nod. I almost smiled back, but Stanton snapped me back to reality. I allowed him one last, lingering look, and then I turned away.

“Mr. Jansen,” Stanton said in a stern voice. “Please keep your opinions to yourself. Regardless of their validity, we are guests here and will behave in a civilized way.”

Ian nodded grudgingly, flushing slightly as he glanced in my direction—as if being so openly chastised might ruin his chances with me. He didn’t have to worry, seeing as he didn’t have any chance to begin with.

Colleen sent an usher to check on us, and while he spoke to Stanton, Ian leaned toward me. “Am I the only one who thinks it’s crazy that we’re here?” He nodded toward Stanton. “She thinks this is okay but come on. They held us captive. It’s unforgivable. Doesn’t that make you mad?”

I certainly hadn’t liked it at the time, but I’d come to understand why it had happened. “I hate that they did that,” I lied, hoping it sounded convincing. “I’m angry every time I think of it.”

Ian actually looked relieved enough to drop the topic.

We sat in blessed silence as the atrium continued to fill up. By the time the ceremony was about ready to start, there must have been close to two hundred people in the room. I kept looking for familiar faces, but Adrian and his father were the only ones I knew. Then, at the last minute, a brightly clad figure came scurrying in. I groaned at the same time Stanton tsked with disapproval. Abe Mazur had just arrived.

Whereas Adrian had made color work with formal wear in a stylish way, Abe used color to offend the sensibilities. To be fair, this was one of the more subdued ensembles I’d ever seen Abe don: a white suit with a bright, kiwi green shirt and paisley ascot. He wore his usual gold earrings, and the sheen of his black hair made me think he’d been hitting some hair oil pretty voraciously. Abe was a dubiously moral Moroi and also the father of my friend—and Adrian’s former dhampir love—Rose Hathaway Abe made me nervous because I’d had some secret dealings with him in the past. He made Stanton nervous because he was a Moroi the Alchemists would never be able to control. Abe seated himself in the front row, earning a horrified look from Colleen the coordinator, who was supervising everything from the side of the room. My guess was that wasn’t part of her seating chart.

I heard a trumpet sound, and those sitting in the back suddenly fell to their knees. Like a wave, those seated in the rest of the rows began following suit. Stanton, Ian, and I all exchanged confused looks. Then I understood.

“The queen,” I whispered. “The queen is coming.”

I could see from Stanton’s face that was not something she had considered. She had a split second to decide on protocol for this situation and how to maintain our “civilized” guest status.

“We don’t kneel,” she whispered back. “Stay where you are.”

It was a valid call, seeing as we owed no fealty to the Moroi queen. Still, I felt flustered and conspicuous at being one of the only people in the room not kneeling. A moment later, a ringing voice declared, “Her Royal Majesty, Queen Vasilisa, first of her name.”

Even Ian caught his breath in admiration as she entered. Vasilisa—or Lissa, as Adrian and Rose continually insisted I call her—was a picture of ethereal beauty. It was hard to believe she was the same age as me. She carried herself with a poise and regality that seemed ageless. Her tall, willowy body was graceful even among Moroi, and her platinum blond hair fell around her pale face like some otherworldly veil. Although dressed in a very modern lavender cocktail dress, she managed to wear it as though it were some grand Victorian ball gown. A black-haired guy with piercing blue eyes walked at her side. Her boyfriend, Christian Ozera, was always easy to spot, providing a dark contrast that worked perfectly with her lightness.

Once the royal couple was seated in the front row—seeming very surprised to find Abe waiting for them there—the throng returned to their seats. An unseen cellist began to play, and everyone released a collective breath as we fell into the comfortable ritual of a wedding.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Ian murmured in my ear. “How fragile her throne is. One slip, and they’d fall into chaos.”

It was true, and it was why Jill’s safety was so important. An old Moroi law said that a monarch had to possess one living family member in order to hold the throne. Jill was the only one left in Lissa’s line. Those who opposed Lissa because of her age and beliefs had realized killing Jill would be easier than going after a queen. Many opposed the law and were trying to change it. In the meantime, the political fallout from Jill’s assassination would be monumental. The Alchemists, whose job it was to keep the Moroi world hidden and protected , needed to prevent their society from falling into chaos. And on a slightly more personal level, I needed to prevent Jill’s death because against all odds, I’d grown to care about her in the short time we’d been together.

I shifted my mind from those grim thoughts and focused on the next stage of the wedding. Bridesmaids in deep green satin led the procession, and I wondered if Abe had been attempting to match them with his suit. If so, he’d failed.

And there, I spotted my first friendly face, aside from Adrian. Rose Hathaway. It was no surprise she’d be a bridesmaid, seeing as she’d been responsible for the happy couple getting together. She’d inherited her father’s dark hair and eyes and was the only dhampir among the bridesmaids. I didn’t need to see the surprised looks of some of the guests to know that was pretty unorthodox. If Rose noticed or cared, she didn’t show it. She walked proudly on, head held high and face glowing with happiness. With that humanlike dhampir appearance, she was shorter than her Moroi companions and had a more athletic build than the slender, small-chested Moroi.

Rose had what was a very normal, very healthy body among humans. Yet when I compared myself to Moroi, I felt enormous. I knew it was ridiculous—especially since I wore a smaller size than Rose—but it was a hard feeling to shake. Adrian had recently had an unwelcome intervention with me, going so far as to claim I was on the verge of an eating disorder. I’d been outraged and told him to mind his own business . . . but ever since then, I’d taken a hard look at my behaviors. I now tried to eat more and had gained exactly one pound, something that had felt torturous and wrong until my friend Trey had recently commented that I was “looking pretty good these days.” It had reinforced the idea that a few more pounds wouldn’t kill me and might actually be good for me. Not that I’d admit any of that to Adrian.

We all stood when Sonya entered. She was glorious in ivory silk, with tiny white roses adorning her fiery hair. The queen had been magnificent, but there was a glow about Sonya that dwarfed even Lissa’s beauty. Maybe it was just something inherent to brides. There was an air of love around Sonya that made her shine. I was surprised to feel a pang in my chest.

Ian was probably disappointed when no bloodletting followed, but the ceremony was sweet and filled with emotion. I couldn’t believe how stone-faced my Alchemist companions looked—I was on the verge of tears as the couple recited their vows. Even if Sonya and Mikhail hadn’t been through hell to be together, this was the kind of ceremony that couldn’t help but pull at the heartstrings. As I listened to them swear they’d love each other forever, I found my gaze drifting to Adrian. He didn’t see me looking at him, but I could tell the ceremony was having the same effect on him. He was enraptured.

It was a rare and sweet look for him, reminding me of the tortured artist that lived beneath the sarcasm. I liked that about Adrian—not the tortured part, but the way he could feel so deeply and then transform those emotions into art. I had feelings, just like anyone else, but that ability to express them into something creative was an area I would never, ever have expertise in. It wasn’t in my nature. I sometimes gave him a hard time about his art, especially his more abstract pieces. Secretly, I regarded his skills with awe and loved the many facets of his personality.

Meanwhile, I had to fight to keep my face blank, to look as though I was a normal Alchemist with no concern for unholy vampire events. Neither of my companions questioned me, so apparently I pulled it off. Maybe I had a future in poker.

Sonya and Mikhail kissed, and the crowd erupted into cheers. They only got louder when he brazenly kissed her a second time—and then a third. The next stage of the festivities, the reception, was being held in the hotel where Adrian and most of the other Moroi were staying. Sonya and Mikhail left first, followed by the queen and other high-ranking royals. Stanton, Ian, and I waited patiently for our row to be dismissed so that we could line up for the limos that were ferrying guests the half mile to the hotel. It normally wouldn’t have been that bad of a walk, even in heels, if not for the freezing temperature.

Our turn came, and the three of us got into the back of a limo. “Now we just have to get through the reception,” said Ian as the driver shut our door. “At least we’ve got our own car.”

Suddenly, the door opened, and Abe slid in beside me. “Room for one more?” He beamed at Stanton and me. “So nice to see you lovely ladies again. And you must be Ian. A pleasure.” Abe extended his hand. At first, it looked as though Ian wouldn’t shake it, but a sharp look from Stanton dictated otherwise. Afterward, Ian kept looking at his hand as though he expected it to start smoking.

The drive only took about five minutes, but I could tell from the other Alchemists’ faces that it felt like five hours for them.

“I think it’s wonderful that you three were invited,” said Abe, perfectly at ease. “Considering how much we work together, we should have more of these pleasant interactions, don’t you think? Perhaps you’ll invite us to one of your weddings someday.” He winked at me. “I’m sure you have young men lining up for you.”

Even Stanton couldn’t keep a straight face. The look of horror in her expression said there were few things more profane than a vampire coming to a human wedding. She looked visibly relieved when we reached the hotel, but we weren’t free of Abe yet. Some thoughtful person—probably Colleen—had put us at his table, probably thinking it would be nice to be seated with a Moroi we knew. Abe seemed to take great delight in the awkwardness his presence provided, but I had to admit, it was kind of refreshing to have someone who openly acknowledged the strained relations between us rather than pretending everything was okay.

“There’s no blood in that,” Abe told us when dinner was served. The three of us were hesitating over cutting into our chicken marsala, even me. “The only blood is in the drinks, and you have to actually ask for those at the bar. No one’s going to sneak you something, and the feeders are being kept in another room.”

Ian and Stanton still looked unconvinced. I decided I would be the brave one and began eating without any more hesitation. Maybe vampires were unnatural creatures, but they certainly had excellent taste in caterers. A moment later, the other Alchemists joined me, and even they had to admit the food was pretty good.

When the plates were cleared, Ian bravely left for the bathroom, giving Stanton a brief opportunity to lean toward me for a hushed status report. “Everything was okay when you left?” Strained relationship or not, our mission to keep the Moroi stable hadn’t changed.

“Fine,” I said. “It’s all quiet back there. No sign of trouble.” She didn’t need to know about my own interpersonal drama. Keeping my tone casual, I asked, “Any news about the Warriors? Or Marcus Finch?”