The Fiery Heart

“He was right about you being so good at your job,” she added. “If you hadn’t gotten so comfortable with them, you’d never be able to go to their Court now. I know it’s a big deal that you got chosen. Not many people could handle it. I couldn’t.” She sighed. “But I wish you weren’t going. I’m so worried about you.”

I finally looked over at her, sitting cross-legged on her bed. A pang stirred in my heart. Despite all the jealousy and suspicion, she was still my sister, and she loved me. She was just confused and insecure about her life right now, which was totally understandable. I was pretty sure she didn’t want this strife between us any more than I did. It was just the lot we’d been given.

“I’ll be fine. The Moroi are safe, and they want my help. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

She still looked skeptical. “But you’re staying overnight with them. Surrounded by them. Couldn’t you have gotten a hotel in a nearby town? Isn’t that what we usually do for trips there? It would keep you away from them.”

It would also keep me away from Adrian. “Staying on-site means I can finish my work faster and get home faster,” I said reasonably. That was hard logic to beat. “And I survived staying with them when they were all partying and drinking champagne at that wedding. This has to be better.”

“Text me all the time so that I know you’re okay.”

I couldn’t help a smile. “I’ll see what I can do. And you text me too on how everything’s going.”

“I will,” she assured me, nodding eagerly. “I’ll be just like you.”

“I know you’ll do a great job.” I actually meant it. She was smart and competent—and now motivated.

“And I’ll make sure they get dinner at Clarence’s and that Angeline doesn’t do anything crazy. Too crazy.” Her lips turned up in a mischievous smile. “Did you hear that she threatened to sue the school for misrepresentation when her history teacher explained that the War of 1812 lasted until 1815?”

“No, I hadn’t heard that.” I shook my head in exasperation yet was secretly thrilled to hear Zoe laughing over someone she thought of as a wacky acquaintance—and not as a creature of evil.

“I’ll keep her in line, don’t worry.” Zoe grew a little more serious. “I don’t suppose . . . well, could I drive them? You know I can do it. And it’s not that far.”

“It’s not legal,” I rebuked gently, hating to see the longing in her. “If you got pulled over—”

“I wouldn’t! I’d be careful.”

“It’s the other drivers you have to worry about,” I said, knowing I sounded like a driving instructor. “Just keep practicing with Eddie. You’ll get your license at some point.”

She sighed. “But when?”

“The next time you’re back in Utah, I guess.”

A moment of silence descended between us. From her face, I had a good guess at what she was thinking. When would she be back in Utah? I knew my dad wouldn’t let her stay license-less forever. It was something she needed for the job. It wasn’t a priority for him right now, though, so she’d have to wait. If she went back there to live with our mom, however . . .

“I guess . . . I guess I’ll just be patient.” Her mournful look intensified. “Anyway. I’ll worry about you until you get back.”

I patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t. This is one of those times you can’t think of me as your sister. Treat me like I’m another Alchemist, off to do a job.”

“It’s hard,” she said, in a voice that made my heart break. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You’ll learn to,” I said.

My flight was leaving soon, and I spent the rest of our time together trying to look stoic and resigned about this unpleasant mission. But after a while, I had to admit that I was secretly elated. Adrian and I were getting away from here! True, it was no free-for-all, but it’d be a relief to be away from suspicious eyes—and to actually have reason to be together.

Just like the last time Adrian and I had flown to Court, we rendezvoused in Los Angeles for our connection to Philadelphia. He and Neil were already waiting at our gate when I arrived, and I paused in my approach to study them. Neil was reading a martial arts book. Adrian had the poetry book I’d given him open on his lap and was staring out the window. The light illuminated his fair skin and sculpted features, and even from here, I wanted to run my fingers through his dark hair. There was a pensive expression on his face, and I wondered if he was worried about our upcoming task. Things had been calm and steady for the last couple of weeks, which had me on edge that we were due for another episode of spirit’s revenge.

“Sage,” he said, when I resumed my approach. The brooding look vanished, replaced by his sly, lazy one. “Ready for an arctic expedition?” He nodded at the parka I carried. Faux fur, of course. “I bet you’ve gotten a lot of strange looks hauling that around here.”

“Didn’t you check the weather for where we’re going? Never mind. Of course you didn’t.” Neil at least had on a sturdy ski jacket, but Adrian’s peacoat didn’t reassure me. I supposed it was promising that he had anything at all. “Is that all you brought?”

“It’s my best-looking coat,” he said.

“So I take it that’s a yes.”

“Style over substance, Sage. I’ve got a lot of adoring fans back there that’ll expect me to look my best. Can’t weigh myself down in . . . well, down.”

I put on my best look of disdain. “Well, don’t come crying to me when you’re out in twenty-degree weather. I’m here to do real work, not babysit you.”

Neil shook his head at Adrian and gave me a sympathetic look before returning to his book. As soon as his attention was off us, I caught Adrian’s eye. Neither of us dared to smile, but the knowing glint in those green depths made my heart rate pick up.

And . . . it continued to beat pretty fast for the rest of our travels. The three of us sat together in coach (earning no end of melodrama from Adrian), with me in between them. Neil was content to read about attack techniques and barely said two words to us. Adrian and I were each theoretically preoccupied with our own reading material, but I knew both of us were more fixated on each other’s proximity. Our legs pressed together, and I was as guilty as he was about stolen touches. When the flight attendant came by with beverages, I practically ended up in his lap while reaching for my Diet Coke. And when Adrian wanted new reading material, he decided to search the pocket in front of me for magazines first, leaning so that his hand brushed my thigh. Even through my jeans, that touch was provocative and made me think of all the times he’d run his hands over my legs.

It was agonizing . . . and exquisite.

It was also frustrating. I spent most of the flight obsessing over each touch and when we’d touch again. These casual brushes set me aflame, but by the time we neared our destination, all I could think about was when we’d get a chance to be alone so that we could be done with this subterfuge. Judging from Adrian’s growing silence and the way his breath caught when our eyes locked, I had a feeling I wasn’t the only one thinking indecent thoughts. Get a grip, Sydney, I thought. Or at least a cold shower. Aren’t you supposed to be turning your mind to higher pursuits of knowledge?

I was so consumed by my turbulent feelings that Neil totally caught me by surprise when our flight was descending. “Do you think I’ll have a chance to see Olive?”

Adrian glanced up from his poetry book. “Probably. This whole thing is because of her blood, so I’m sure she’ll be around.”

“That’s not what I—” Neil bit his lip and looked out the window. “Never mind.”

“Ohhh,” said Adrian, with a wink that was lost on Neil. “There’s see and see. You mean see. I’m sure there’ll be time between our breathtaking discoveries for you to take each other’s breath away in a different kind of way.”

Neil turned back, blushing bright red. “It’s not that like that. We’ve been e-mailing since we met, and we really connect.”

“Well, there’s connect and—”

“Adrian, stop helping.” To Neil, I said, “I don’t know her, but whatever we have to do isn’t going to be solved in five minutes. You’ll have time and won’t even be on constant duty.” That brightened him up immensely.

Once we were in Philadelphia, we rented a car for the rest of the trip. Normal trips to the Court’s location on the edge of the Pocono Mountains usually relied on puddle jumper planes to a rural airport thirty minutes away, but those flights were infrequent, hence the car. The trip took us about two and a half hours, a drive that would’ve been scenic in the middle of the day. But between the flights and the time changes, darkness had long since overtaken us, something that put Neil on high alert. He sat beside me as I drove, barely blinking as he scanned around us. I’d talked a good talk to Zoe about my safety, but that had been regarding Moroi. I’d forgotten that where Moroi grouped, Strigoi often followed, and dark roads leading to Court were fraught with danger at night. I didn’t think any Strigoi would come leaping onto the car as we drove at sixty miles per hour, but I was grateful for Neil’s painstaking diligence. Despite his teasing, I think Adrian was as well.

It was midnight when we finally crossed the Court’s borders. Neil was as stiff and rigid as ever, but Adrian had sprawled out and fallen asleep in the backseat. He yawned and stretched his arms as I slowed down to talk to the guards at the gate. As far as most humans were concerned, the Court was a very specialized and private college. It certainly looked like one, with venerable ivy-covered buildings and broad, beautiful courtyards. But as sharp-eyed dhampirs peered into the car, I was reminded of Zoe’s warnings. I was about to enter a compound of supernatural creatures.

“Lord Ivashkov,” said one of the guards, noticing Adrian. “Welcome back.”

Adrian smothered another yawn and nodded. Lord Ivashkov. I forgot sometimes that Adrian was part of a royal family and that even minor members could use “lord” and “lady” when they were adults. It was unreal to think I was dating royalty. Even more unreal that these days his title weirded me out more than the fact that he was a vampire did.

The dhampir gestured to a narrow dirt road leading around outskirts of the Court’s central grounds. “Follow that around and park behind the palace,” he said. “You’re expected.”

“The palace,” I muttered, once he’d waved us on. “We aren’t in Palm Springs anymore.”

“It’s just what they call where the queen lives,” said Adrian. He leaned forward and stuck his head between Neil and me. “Looks just like any other academic building. You’ll feel right at home.”

That wasn’t entirely true. Once we’d parked and been admitted through a back door, a guide led us down grand corridors illuminated by crystal chandeliers and lined with portraits depicting centuries of Moroi monarchs. Those delicate, pale faces watched me, reminding me that I truly was in another world—a world where I was the outsider. The old Alchemist anxiety began to bubble up, and I told myself over and over that I was a guest here. No one would try to hurt me. And if they did, Adrian wouldn’t let them.

I knew the queen’s residence had an actual throne room and other areas for state functions, but tonight we were taken to a more casual setting: a media room. Definitely not something I imagined when I thought of palaces. A giant TV screen hung on the wall and displayed some show in which people appeared to be competing in teams on a muddy obstacle course. Large plush sofas were arranged around the screen and held various Moroi and dhampirs who didn’t notice our entrance. A couple of guardians standing watch on opposite sides of the room saw us instantly, of course. I turned my attention to the spectators on the couch, one of whom I recognized right away.

“Come on!” Rose leapt to her feet and held her hands out beseechingly to the screen. “It was right in front of you, you idiot! Are you blind? You just gave them the win!”

“Actually,” said Adrian, coming to stand beside me. “The green team wins. This is a rerun.”

Everyone turned toward us, and someone shut off the sound. I heard a small shriek, and then a lithe blond figure darted up and threw her arms around Adrian. “You made it!”

He grinned and patted her back. “What’d I tell you, cousin? I’m your subject, and a subject serves his queen.”

Lissa Dragomir didn’t look particularly queenly just then. She was my age, and her long platinum hair was tied into a ponytail that hung sloppily down the back of her Lehigh sweatshirt. I hardly knew her, but her resemblance to Jill—mostly in the form of their light green eyes and high cheekbones—made her feel familiar. She broke from Adrian and turned to Neil and me. The gleeful smile she’d given Adrian turned to one a bit more formal, but still just as genuine. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">