Last Sacrifice (6)

by Richelle Mead

  ʺItʹs okay,ʺ said Lissa, stumbling over her words a little. ʺSit.ʺ She took a seat opposite Jill. It was the biggest chair in the room—the one Tatiana had always sat in.

  Jill hesitated a moment, then shifted her gaze back to me. I must have provided some encouragement because she returned to her chair. I sat in one beside Lissa, wincing as a small pain tightened in my chest. Worry for me momentarily distracted Jill from Lissa.

  ʺHow are you feeling? Are you okay? Should you even be out of bed?ʺ The cute, rambling nature. I was glad to see it again.

  ʺFine,ʺ I lied. ʺGood as new.ʺ

  ʺI was worried. When I saw what happened . . . I mean, there was so much blood and so much craziness and no one knew if youʹd pull through . . .ʺ Jill frowned. ʺI donʹt know. It was all so scary. Iʹm so glad youʹre okay.ʺ

  I kept smiling, hoping to reassure her. Silence fell then. The room grew tense. In political situations, Lissa was the expert, always able to smooth everything over with the right words. I was the one who spoke up in uncomfortable scenarios, saying the things that shocked others. The things no one wanted to hear. This situation seemed like one that required her diplomacy, but I knew it was on me to take charge.

  ʺJill,ʺ I said, ʺwe wanted to know if youʹd be willing to, well, take part in the coronation ceremony.ʺ

  Jillʹs eyes flicked briefly to Lissa—still stone-faced—and then back to me. ʺWhat does ‘take partʹ mean, exactly? What would I have to do?ʺ

  ʺNothing hard,ʺ I assured her. ʺItʹs just some formalities that are usually done by family members. Ceremonial stuff. Like you did with the vote.ʺ I hadnʹt witnessed that, but Jill had apparently only had to stand by Lissaʹs side to show family strength. Such a small thing for a law to hinge on. ʺMostly, itʹs about being on display and putting on a good face.ʺ

  ʺWell,ʺ mused Jill, ʺIʹve been doing that for most of this week.ʺ

  ʺIʹve been doing it for most of my life,ʺ said Lissa.

  Jill looked startled. Again, I felt at a loss without the bond. Lissaʹs tone hadnʹt made her meaning clear. Was it a challenge to Jill—that the girl hadnʹt faced nearly what Lissa had? Or was it supposed to be sympathy for Jillʹs lack of experience?

  ʺYouʹll . . . youʹll get used to it,ʺ I said. ʺOver time.ʺ

  Jill shook her head, a small and bitter smile on her face. ʺI donʹt know about that.ʺ

  I didnʹt either. I wasnʹt sure how one handled the kind of situation sheʹd been dropped into. My mind rapidly ran through a list of more meaningless, kind things I could say, but Lissa finally took over.

  ʺI know how weird this is,ʺ she said. She determinedly met Jillʹs green eyes—the only feature the sisters shared, I decided. Jill had the makings of a future Emily. Lissa carried a mix of her parentsʹ traits. ʺThis is weird for me too. I donʹt know what to do.ʺ

  ʺWhat do you want?ʺ asked Jill quietly.

  I heard the real question. Jill wanted to know if Lissa wanted her. Lissa had been devastated by the death of her brother . . . but a surprise illegitimate sibling was no substitute for Andre. I tried to imagine what it would be like to be in either girlʹs place. I tried and failed.

  ʺI donʹt know,ʺ admitted Lissa. ʺI donʹt know what I want.ʺ

  Jill nodded, dropping her gaze, but not before I caught sight of the emotion playing across her face. Disappointment—yet, Lissaʹs answer hadnʹt entirely been unexpected.

  Jill asked the next best thing. ʺDo you want . . . do you want me to be in the ceremonies?ʺ

  The question hung in the air. It was a good one. It was the reason weʹd come here, but did Lissa actually want this? Studying her, I still wasnʹt sure. I didnʹt know if she was just following protocol, trying to get Jill to play a role expected among royalty. In this case, there was no law that said Jill had to do anything. She simply had to exist.

  ʺYes,ʺ said Lissa at last. I heard the truth in her words, and something inside of me lightened. Lissa didnʹt just want Jill for the sake of image. A part of Lissa wanted Jill in her life—but managing that would be difficult. Still, it was a start, and Jill seemed to recognize that.

  ʺOkay,ʺ she said. ʺJust tell me what I need to do.ʺ It occurred to me that Jillʹs youth and nervousness were deceptive. There were sparks of bravery and boldness within her, sparks that I felt certain would grow. She really was a Dragomir.

  Lissa looked relieved, but I think it was because sheʹd made a tiny step of progress with her sister. It had nothing to do with the coronation. ʺSomeone else will explain it all. Iʹm not really sure what you do, to be honest. But Rose is right. It wonʹt be hard.ʺ

  Jill simply nodded.

  ʺThank you,ʺ said Lissa. She stood up, and both Jill and I rose with her. ʺI . . . I really appreciate it.ʺ

  That awkwardness returned as the three of us stood there. It would have been a good moment for the sisters to hug, but even though both seemed pleased at their progress, neither was ready for that. When Lissa looked at Jill, she still saw her father with another woman. When Jill looked at Lissa, she saw her life completely turned upside down—a life once shy and private now out there for the world to gawk at. I couldnʹt change her fate, but hugging I could do. Heedless of my stitches, I put my arms around the young girl.

  ʺThanks,ʺ I said, echoing Lissa. ʺThisʹll all be okay. Youʹll see.ʺ

  Jill nodded yet again, and with no more to discuss, Lissa and I moved toward the door. Jillʹs voice brought us to a halt.

  ʺHey . . . what happens after the coronation? To me? To us?ʺ

  I glanced at Lissa. Another good question. Lissa turned toward Jill but still wasnʹt making direct eye contact. ʺWeʹll . . . weʹll get to know each other. Thingsʹll get better.ʺ

  The smile that appeared on Jillʹs face was genuine—small, but genuine. ʺOkay,ʺ she said. There was hope in that smile too. Hope and relief. ʺIʹd like that.ʺ

  As for me, I had to hide a frown. I apparently could function without the bond because I could tell, with absolute confidence, that Lissa wasnʹt exactly giving the whole truth. What wasnʹt she telling Jill? Lissa did want things to be better, I was certain, even if she wasnʹt sure how. But there was something . . . something small that Lissa wasnʹt revealing to either of us, something that made me think Lissa didnʹt actually believe things would improve.

  Out of nowhere, a strange echo from Victor Dashkov rang through my mind about Jill. If she has any sense, Vasilisa will send her away.

  I didnʹt know why I remembered that, but it sent a chill through me. The sisters were both mustering smiles, and I hastily did as well, not wanting either to know my concerns. Lissa and I left after that, heading back toward my room. My little outing had been more tiring than I expected, and as much as I hated to admit it, I couldnʹt wait to lie down again.

  When we reached my room, I still hadnʹt decided if I should ask Lissa about Jill or wait to get Dimitriʹs opinion. The decision was taken from me when we found an unexpected visitor waiting: Adrian.

  He sat on my bed, head tipped back as though he was completely consumed by studying the ceiling. I knew better. Heʹd known the instant we approached—or at least when Lissa approached.

  We stopped in the doorway, and he finally turned toward us. He looked like he hadnʹt slept in a while. Dark shadows hung under his eyes, and his cute face was hardened with lines of fatigue. Whether it was mental or physical fatigue, I couldnʹt say. Nonetheless, his lazy smile was the same as ever.

  ʺYour majesty,ʺ he said grandly.

  ʺStop,ʺ scoffed Lissa. ʺYou should know better.ʺ

  ʺIʹve never known better,ʺ he countered. ʺYou should know that.ʺ

  I saw Lissa start to smile; then she glanced at me and grew serious, realizing this was hardly letʹs-have-fun-with-Adrian time.

  ʺWell,ʺ she said uneasily, not looking very queenly at all. ʺIʹve got some things to do.ʺ She was going to bolt, I realized. Iʹd gone with her for her family chat, but she was going to abandon me now. Just as well, though. This conversation
with Adrian had been inevitable, and Iʹd brought it on myself. I had to finish this on my own, just as Iʹd told Dimitri.

  ʺIʹm sure you do,ʺ I said. Her face turned hesitant, as though she was suddenly reconsidering. She felt guilty. She was worried about me and wanted to stand by me. I lightly touched her arm. ʺItʹs okay, Liss. Iʹll be okay. Go.ʺ

  She squeezed my hand in return, her eyes wishing me good luck. She told Adrian goodbye and left, closing the door behind her.

  It was just him and me now.

  He stayed on my bed, watching me carefully. He still wore the smile heʹd given Lissa, like this was no big deal. I knew otherwise and made no attempts to hide my feelings. Standing still made me tired, so I sat down in a nearby chair, nervously wondering what to say.

  ʺAdrian—ʺ

  ʺLetʹs start with this, little dhampir,ʺ he said cordially. ʺWas it going on before you left Court?ʺ

  It took me a moment to follow that abrupt Adrian conversation format. He was asking if Dimitri and I had gotten back together before my arrest. I shook my head slowly.

  ʺNo. I was with you. Just you.ʺ True, Iʹd been a mess of emotions, but my intentions had been firm.

  ʺWell. Thatʹs something,ʺ he said. Some of his pleasantness was starting to slip. I smelled it then, ever so faintly: alcohol and smoke. ʺBetter some rekindling of sparks in the heat of battle or quest or whatever than you cheating right in front of me.ʺ

  I shook my head more urgently now. ʺNo, I swear. I didnʹt—nothing happened then . . . not until—ʺ I hesitated on how to phrase my next words.

  ʺLater?ʺ he guessed. ʺWhich makes it okay?

  ʺNo! Of course not. I . . .ʺ

  Damn it. Iʹd screwed up. Just because I hadnʹt cheated on Adrian at Court didnʹt mean that I hadnʹt cheated on him later. You could phrase it however you wanted, but letʹs face it: sleeping with another guy in a hotel room was pretty much cheating if you had a boyfriend. It didnʹt matter if that guy was the love of your life or not.

  ʺIʹm sorry,ʺ I said. It was the simplest and most appropriate thing I could say. ʺIʹm sorry. What I did was wrong. I didnʹt mean for it to happen. I thought . . . I really thought he and I were done. I was with you. I wanted to be with you. And then, I realized that—ʺ

  ʺNo, no—stop.ʺ Adrian held up a hand, his voice tight now as his cool façade continued to crumble. ʺI really do not want to hear about the great revelation you had about how you guys were always meant to be together or whatever it was.ʺ

  I stayed silent because, well, that kind of had been my revelation.

  Adrian ran a hand through his hair. ʺReally, itʹs my fault. It was there. A hundred times there. How often did I see it? I knew. It kept happening. Over and over, youʹd say you were through with him . . . and over and over, Iʹd believe it . . . no matter what my eyes showed me. No matter what my heart told me. My. Fault.ʺ

  It was that slightly unhinged rambling—not that nervous kind of Jillʹs, but the unstable kind that worried me about how close he was getting to the edge of insanity. An edge I might very well be pushing him toward. I wanted to go over to him but had the sense to stay seated.

  ʺAdrian, I—ʺ

  ʺI loved you!ʺ he yelled. He jumped up out of his chair so quickly I never saw it coming. ʺI loved you, and you destroyed me. You took my heart and ripped it up. You might as well have staked me!ʺ The change in his features also caught me by surprise. His voice filled the room. So much grief, so much anger. So unlike the usual Adrian. He strode toward me, hand clasped over his chest. ʺI. Loved. You. And you used me the whole time.ʺ

  ʺNo, no. Itʹs not true.ʺ I wasnʹt afraid of Adrian, but in the face of that emotion, I found myself cringing. ʺI wasnʹt using you. I loved you. I still do, but—ʺ

  He looked disgusted. ʺRose, come on.ʺ

  ʺI mean it! I do love you.ʺ Now I stood up, pain or no, trying to look him in the eye. ʺI always will, but weʹre not . . . I donʹt think we work as a couple.ʺ

  ʺThatʹs a bullshit breakup line, and you know it.ʺ

  He was kind of right, but I thought back to moments with Dimitri . . . how well we worked in sync, how he always seemed to get exactly what I felt. I meant what Iʹd said: I did love Adrian. He was wonderful, in spite of all his flaws. Because, really, who didnʹt have flaws? He and I had fun together. There was affection, but we werenʹt matched in the way Dimitri and I were.

  ʺIʹm not . . . Iʹm not the one for you,ʺ I said weakly.

  ʺBecause youʹre with another guy?ʺ

  ʺNo, Adrian. Because . . . I donʹt. I donʹt know. I donʹt . . .ʺ I was fumbling, badly. I didnʹt know how to explain what I felt, how you could care about someone and love hanging out with them—but still not work as a couple. ʺI donʹt balance you like you need.ʺ

  ʺWhat the hell does that mean?ʺ he exclaimed.

  My heart ached for him, and I was so sorry for what Iʹd done . . . but this was the truth of it all. ʺThe fact that you have to ask says it all. When you find that person . . . youʹll know.ʺ I didnʹt add that with his history, heʹd probably have a number of false starts before finding that person. ʺAnd I know this sounds like another bullshit breakup line, but I really would like to be your friend.ʺ

  He stared at me for several heavy seconds and then laughed—though there wasnʹt much humor in it. ʺYou know whatʹs great? Youʹre serious. Look at your face.ʺ He gestured, as though I actually could examine myself. ʺYou really think itʹs that easy, that I can sit here and watch your happy ending. That I can watch you getting everything you want as you lead your charmed life.ʺ

  ʺCharmed!ʺ The guilt and sympathy warring within me got a little kick of anger. ʺHardly. Do you know what Iʹve gone through in the last year?ʺ Iʹd watched Mason die, fought in the St. Vladimirʹs attack, been captured by Strigoi in Russia, and then lived on the run as a wanted murderess. That didnʹt sound charmed at all.

  ʺAnd yet, here you are, triumphant after it all. You survived death and freed yourself from the bond. Lissaʹs queen. You got the guy and your happily ever after.ʺ

  I turned my back to him and stalked away. ʺAdrian, what do you want me to say? I can apologize forever, but thereʹs nothing else I can do here. I never wanted to hurt you; I canʹt say that enough. But the rest? Do you really expect me to be sad about everything else having worked out? Should I wish I was still I was accused of murder?ʺ

  ʺNo,ʺ he said. ʺI donʹt want you to suffer. Much. But the next time youʹre in bed with Belikov, stop a moment and remember that not everyone made out as well as you did.ʺ

  I turned back to face him. ʺAdrian, I never—ʺ

  ʺNot just me, little dhampir,ʺ he added quietly. ʺThereʹs been a lot of collateral damage along the way while you battled against the world. I was a victim, obviously. But what about Jill? What happens to her now that youʹve abandoned her to the royal wolves? And Eddie? Have you thought about him? And whereʹs your Alchemist?ʺ

  Every word he slung at me was an arrow, piercing my heart more than the bullets had. The fact that heʹd referred to Jill by her name instead of ʺJailbaitʺ carried an extra hurt. I was already toting plenty of guilt about her, but the others . . . well, they were a mystery. Iʹd heard rumors about Eddie but hadnʹt seen him since my return. He was clear of Jamesʹs death, but killing a Moroi—when others still thought he might have been brought in alive—carried a heavy stigma. Eddieʹs previous insubordination—thanks to me—also damned him, even if it had all been for ʺthe greater good.ʺ As queen, Lissa could only do so much. The guardians served the Moroi, but it was customary for the Moroi to step back and let the guardians manage their own people. Eddie wasnʹt being dismissed or imprisoned . . . but what assignment would they give him? Hard to say.

  Sydney . . . she was an even greater mystery. Whereʹs your Alchemist? The goings-on of that group were beyond me, beyond my world. I remembered her face that last time Iʹd seen her, back in the hotel—strong but sad. I knew she and the other Alchemists had been released since then, but her expre
ssion had said she wasnʹt out of trouble yet.

  And Victor Dashkov? Where did he fit in? I wasnʹt sure. Evil or not, he was still someone whoʹd suffered as a result of my actions, and the events surrounding his death would stay with me forever.

  Collateral damage. Iʹd brought down a lot of people with me, intentionally or no. But, as Adrianʹs words continued sinking into me, one of them suddenly gave me pause.

  ʺVictim,ʺ I said slowly. ʺThatʹs the difference between you and me.ʺ

  ʺHuh?ʺ Heʹd been watching me closely while Iʹd considered the fates of my friends and was caught off guard now. ʺWhat are you talking about?ʺ

  ʺYou said you were a victim. Thatʹs why . . . thatʹs why ultimately, you and I arenʹt matched for each other. In spite of everything thatʹs happened, Iʹve never thought of myself that way. Being a victim means youʹre powerless. That you wonʹt take action. Always . . . always Iʹve done something to fight for myself . . . for others. No matter what.ʺ

  Iʹd never seen such outrage on Adrianʹs face. ʺThatʹs what you think of me? That Iʹm lazy? Powerless?ʺ

  Not exactly. But I had a feeling that after this conversation, he would run off to the comfort of his cigarettes and alcohol and maybe whatever female company he could find.

  ʺNo,ʺ I said. ʺI think youʹre amazing. I think youʹre strong. But I donʹt think youʹve realized it—or learned how to use any of that.ʺ And, I wanted to add, I wasnʹt the person who could inspire that in him.

  ʺThis,ʺ he said, moving toward the door, ʺwas the last thing I expected. You destroy my life and then feed me inspirational philosophy.ʺ

  I felt horrible, and it was one of those moments where I wished my mouth wouldnʹt just blurt out the first thing on my mind. Iʹd learned a lot of control—but not quite enough.

  ʺIʹm just telling you the truth. Youʹre better than this . . . better than whatever it is youʹre going to do now.ʺ

  Adrian rested his hand on the doorknob and gave me a rueful look. ʺRose, Iʹm an addict with no work ethic whoʹs likely going to go insane. Iʹm not like you. Iʹm not a superhero.ʺ