Текст книги "The Fiery Heart"

Автор книги: Richelle Mead

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

There were golden glints of anger in the depth of her brown eyes, but despite that fierceness and passion, I had a feeling she was terrified. How could she not be? The itch to look at her aura stirred within me, and I squashed it, both because of sheer willpower and . . . well, I wasn’t entirely sure I could  look at her aura.

It had been almost two weeks since I went on Einstein’s prescription. The first week, I’d noticed almost no difference in anything–with one exception. My sleep. I was actually getting it. I no longer stared at my bedroom ceiling for hours, trying to settle down. I would get into bed, lie there for fifteen minutes or so, and eventually drift off. It wasn’t like being sedated either. Mostly, it was as though the hamster wheel in my head no longer spun out of control. My thoughts simply calmed for the night, letting me do what normal people must do all the time.

In the last week, I’d noticed more gradual changes in me. I was a little more patient. I thought things through a little more. That wasn’t to say I’d become some upstanding, perfectly controlled person whose feelings ran an even keel. Not by a long shot. I still had plenty of what Sydney would probably call “Adrian Ivashkov moments.” Listening to Pink Floyd’s The Dark Side of the Moon  one night had left me moody and speculative over the meaning of life, eventually triggering the purchase of some black‑light paints to help express my metaphysical musings. And when I’d finally turned in that goddamned self‑portrait, I’d helpfully told my professor that if she wanted to keep it for her private boudoir, I’d understand. Her response had not been positive.

That had probably been my stupidest act in the last two weeks, and really, compared with past history, it wasn’t that  bad. Most importantly, I hadn’t felt out of control. There’d been none of the debilitating darkness. And Aunt Tatiana had remained quiet.

I thought I’d hit the jackpot until, the day after the boudoir comment, I’d seen my professor on campus and had wanted to know if I was still in trouble for the remark. I’d summoned spirit to sneak a peek at her aura–and nothing had happened. It was kind of like trying to turn over a car engine on a cold day. Finally, on the third attempt, the magic took, and her aura had flared in my sight.

That had been four days ago, and I was too afraid to try to use spirit again. I didn’t know if I could handle what I’d find. Had that day been a fluke? Was spirit still functioning normally? Or was it fading away, maybe even gone? I didn’t know how to feel about that. Relieved? Devastated?

That panic threatened to overwhelm me, and I had to take a moment to push those thoughts out of my mind and stay calm. Spirit wasn’t the issue right now. Sydney was. I had to be there for her.

The thing was, I hadn’t told her about the mood stabilizer. I hadn’t even told her about Einstein. Part of me wanted her to know I really was trying to change–that I would do anything for her–but on the other hand, I was still too nervous about what the prescription’s ultimate results would be. I was embarrassed at the thought of hyping the pills up to her only for them to fail. And I was equally wary of them working–and me stopping because I couldn’t handle the changes. Until I knew what was going on, I didn’t want Sydney to know about it. I’d rather have her think I hadn’t tried at all than have her know I’d failed.

“What do you need from me?” I asked.

“From us,” corrected Jackie.

I couldn’t help shooting her a smile. Putting on charm and a happy face for everyone wasn’t that difficult for me. Actually liking and respecting people was rarer, but Jackie had reached both of those bars in my esteem. A large part of it was that she cared about Sydney so much and would do anything for her. I loved Jackie for that. And I also loved that she needed to know only half of what was going on to want to help. That was one of the perks of her already being involved in supernatural affairs. She had an excellent ability to roll with new and unexplainable complications.

“I’m going to have to use the compound I made,” Sydney said. She clasped her hands together, and I realized it was to stop them from shaking. “I just mixed the salt into some binding solution and ink. It all seems stable, so now the trick is to finally tattoo our subject.”

“You actually have a subject?” I looked around to see if I’d missed somebody, but it was just the three of us. “One of the cats?” I asked.

There was a knock at the door, and a moment later, Jackie let in Trey Juarez, which was a surprise. I’d only ever talked to him a couple of times. Aside from having been born into the group that had tried to kill Sonya Karp, Trey seemed like a reasonably decent guy. I knew Sydney considered him a friend, despite everything that had happened, and her opinion went a long way. The fact that she’d invited him here spoke legions.

“Mr. Juarez, what a pleasant surprise.” It was clear Jackie was, indeed, very surprised.

“I’m surprised you haven’t invited me over sooner, Ms. T. I was your TA first! And here you let Melbourne over all the time.”

He gave her a grin that could’ve been out of my playbook and probably worked wonders with women. Unlike Neil, who seemed to charm them haphazardly, Trey was a pro. I was glad he was stuck in a weird dysfunctional hang‑up over Angeline because, let’s face it, some might argue a good‑looking athletic human scholar was a better match for Sydney than a mentally unstable vampire artist.

Jackie rolled her eyes, showing the smile had no effect on her. “Oversight noted. I presume Mr. Juarez is the subject you’ll be tattooing?”

When Sydney nodded, I asked, “How are you going to pull that off exactly? Are you doing a fresh design? Or are you just using a syringe to touch it up?”

Marcus had only needed a syringe when he “broke” her tattoo. It was one of the useful things he’d done for her before he left town: injecting her lily tattoo with small amounts of ink derived from vampire blood. It had cracked all the tattoo’s powers but had still left her susceptible to re‑inking by the Alchemists if she didn’t seal it.

“No syringe,” she said. “I think we need a substantial amount in there, plus we have to make sure it gets into the dermis. That’s the next layer of skin below the surface one.”

“Okay,” I said, thinking I understood. I had a feeling the “dermis” definition had been for me alone. “You need more ink in there. How are you going to pull it off?”

Another knock at the door startled us, and Jackie moved toward it. “Ah, that would be Malachi.”

I did a double take. “Did she just say–”

There was no need to finish because she flung open the door, revealing our unstable former self‑defense teacher in all his eye‑patch glory. He jerked his thumb behind him. “Hey, darling. I got the tattoo apparatus in my van. Where do you want me to set up?” He squinted inside at us. “Oh. Hey, kids.”

Jackie took him to the garage, and I tried to pick my jaw up off the floor as I turned to face Sydney. “He’s your tattooist?”

She shrugged. “When I told Ms. Terwilliger I needed to do a tattoo, she told me he had his own machine. I guess he does all his own tattoos.”

“I’ve never seen any.”

“Maybe they’re in places most people don’t see,” she said.

I winced. “Thank you for sending my imagination to a place it can never return from.”

“Whoa, hold on here.” Trey pointed down the hall, where I could hear Wolfe regaling Jackie with some crackpot tale of daring. “That guy’s going to be using a high‑powered needle on me? He has one eye! Do the words ‘depth perception’ mean anything to you?”

“Ms. Terwilliger swears he knows what he’s doing,” said Sydney. “And since the ink doesn’t have any color, it’s not going to show. So as long as everything’s sterile, and he has some competence, the artistry won’t matter. We just need the gun to deliver it. But if you’re interested . . .” A small smile played at her lips. “It’d be easy enough to add some dye to it. I bet Wolfe could do a Chihuahua on you.”

Trey shuddered. “No thanks.”

Sydney suddenly frowned. “Your Warrior tattoo is just a tattoo, right? No powers?”

“Nope. Tattoos don’t have to have amazing abilities for us. Decoration is enough.”

“Okay,” she said. “That’ll give me a good cover story for Wolfe. Don’t worry–whatever I say, nothing will happen to your current tattoo.” Trey didn’t look reassured.

I pondered that. “Doesn’t he need a special tattoo, though?” I asked. I didn’t elaborate in front of Trey, but the whole point of this experiment was to see if her ink could deactivate Alchemist ink.

She nodded, catching my unspoken question. “Yes, but we’ll worry about that after this, once I get some of those materials. Then we’ll do a second tattoo.”

Trey’s mouth dropped, but he didn’t get a chance to comment. Jackie and Wolfe returned just then, and he rubbed his hands together eagerly. “Okay, so what’s the late‑night emergency? You two getting your names tattooed on each other? I can do a pretty nice Courier font.”

Sydney had been about to speak but faltered a moment. Wolfe had no evidence of our relationship, but he’d always assumed there was one, even before there was. She quickly recovered herself and laughed off his comment, like it was a funny joke. Trey, understandably, seemed too transfixed by the idea of a one‑eyed man tattooing him to have really noticed.

“The opposite,” Sydney told Wolfe. “We actually want to remove my friend’s tattoo, and we’ve got some special ink that’ll eventually make the old one fade over time.”

He grunted. “Really? Never heard of that. I thought laser removal was really the only way to get rid of one.”

“It’s a new technique,” she explained easily, giving a small nod to Trey. “His parents are visiting soon, and they’ll kill him if they see it.”

I blinked in surprise. She was so convincing, I nearly believed her story, and I knew the truth. Wolfe certainly bought it. It was something I tended to forget about: Alchemists were excellent liars. If Sydney ever wanted to lie to me, I’d probably be none the wiser.

“Where is it?” Wolfe asked.

Trey didn’t react right away. I think he almost believed Sydney too. Turning away from us, he pulled off his shirt and revealed a sun tattoo on the back of his shoulder.

Wolfe leaned forward to study it. “So, what? Your parents see you shirtless a lot?”

Sydney winced at the flaw in her logic. “It’s just better if it’s gone when they visit, sir.”

“Yeah,” agreed Trey. “Sometimes we do family trips to the beach.” I had to give him points for playing along.

Sydney explained how Wolfe only needed to deliver the ink into the existing tattoo. He looked disappointed that there’d be no chance to test his artistic skills, but I think he was happy enough about a late‑night visit to Jackie to not be too put out about the time and effort.

Although Wolfe’s equipment looked professional enough, the garage setup gave the whole operation a kind of sketchy feel. I didn’t know the fine details of tattooing, but Sydney examined everything with a critical eye, asking about sterilization and seeming pleased that Wolfe used new parts on some of the equipment each time. Jackie looked as helpless as I felt and stood near me and a wide‑eyed Trey, whose tanned skin had paled at the approaching feat. Even Sydney looked a little uneasy, however, when Trey lay facedown on a bench so that Wolfe could get to his shoulder with the needle.

“I’m sure he’s very skilled,” she said. It was hard to say which of us she was trying to convince.

“Damn boy,” said Wolfe, poking one of Trey’s huge triceps. “What sport do you play?”

“All of them.”

“Oh yeah? You ever done speed‑skating‑javelin‑throwing?”

“Speed‑skating what?” asked Trey.

All of us could tell Wolfe was on the verge of a story, and Sydney cleared her throat. “Um, sir? We should really get moving.” She went over her instructions one last time, and then Wolfe set to his task.

I’d never seen tattooing before. It sounded like a dentist’s drill, and although I was no stranger to blood, seeing that high‑powered needle go to work made me squeamish. It had to hurt, but Trey took it stoically, never twitching a muscle. Sydney supervised everything with a sharp eye, and I had a feeling that if Wolfe did anything even remotely irresponsible, she’d throw herself in there to stop him. She was literally and figuratively watching Trey’s back.

I moved closer to her, careful not to touch but also not really leaving any space between us. “Okay. Presuming Wolfe doesn’t accidentally impale Trey, what’s the next step? I get your logic about giving him a tattoo with Alchemist ink later to see if this one will protect him, but how exactly are you going to get their ink? Doesn’t that require vampire blood and earth compulsion? Those aren’t things you have lying around your room.”

A faint smile played at her lips. “No, nor are some of the other ingredients. And they’re not exactly things I can order off the internet either or use regular Alchemist channels for. I’ll have to think of some other way to get them.”

“But you still wanted to do this first?” I nodded toward Trey.

Whatever fleeting smile she might have had vanished on the wind. “Yes. I had to, after seeing Keith today. Maybe this is preemptive. Maybe I should’ve held off until I had Alchemist ink, but when I think about Keith . . . I have to do something now,  Adrian. I can’t let them do that to other people. I’ve been talking about replicating this stuff in hypothetical terms for a while now, and I couldn’t stand the thought of waiting for Marcus or the ideal procedure. This puts us one step closer. Trey’ll be ready for when I get some Alchemist ink, and once we prove this works, Marcus will disperse it.”

I resisted the urge to cup her face in my hands. What she was suggesting wasn’t a bad plan. Would it have been better if she and Marcus had managed to tattoo one of his disciples with an Alchemist compulsion tattoo and then  see if this stuff worked like Marcus’s indigo ink? Sure, that would’ve been the ideal plan. And that was the thing. Sydney usually went with ideal. She was meticulous. She wasn’t the type to rush stuff or settle for the second‑best option. But she’d rushed now. She’d let the optimal order for her experiment be altered in order to speed things up. It was something anyone might do. I would. The fact that Sydney had done it, however, told me something crucial. She’d acted on impulse and emotion, which was out of character for her. Sydney was scared.

What the hell had she seen in Keith?

“You should have Wolfe tattoo you too,” I said gently. “If you’re worried, that is. Just in case Inez was wrong about magic use undoing yours.”

A pained look crossed her face. “I thought about it, believe me. The problem is, I can’t easily do it with Zoe around. This process irritates the skin, and even though the most obvious effects are gone in a few days, it’s still not something I can hide while living with her. I’ve just got to take my chances and wait.”

“You going to tell Marcus about this?”

“If he ever calls,” she said, rolling her eyes. “He’s probably passed out at some cantina.”

“We can dream visit him, you know,” I said.

“Adrian.” Her voice was stern. “You know we can’t.”

“I know no such thing,” I declared. “I haven’t used spirit in a long time. Not really since–well. You know. That night. A little burst like this for the greater good? No problem.” I made the boast without thinking, mostly because it was a gut instinct to help her. It occurred to me too late that I might not actually be capable of it with the pills.

“It’s dangerous,” she said. But I could see indecision in her eyes. She wanted to talk to Marcus in theory but didn’t want to put me at risk.

“What’s dangerous is not doing what we can to protect others. And if that means talking to my favorite outlaw, we should do it. I should do it.” I had to try. Maybe it’d end in failure, but I was powerless against helping her.

She hesitated and then gave me the best answer I could expect: “We’ll discuss it later.”

Whatever his other flaws, Wolfe proved surprisingly competent. The tattoo process seemed to take forever, but he didn’t gouge any holes in Trey’s back. When they finally finished an hour later, Trey’s skin was pink and irritated, dotted with a little blood. Both Sydney and Wolfe assured us that was normal. He nodded in satisfaction and allowed Trey to sit up for cleaning and bandaging.

“I covered the whole thing,” said Wolfe. “How long until it fades?”

“It can take a while,” Sydney said smoothly. “Sometimes you need a few more applications, but I’ve got a good feeling about this. Thanks for your help.” Again, she spoke so easily that I could almost believe we were just doing a cosmetic removal and not protecting against mind‑controlling magic.

“Wish they’d had that kind of thing back when I was younger,” Wolfe said wistfully. “If I’d known what I knew now, I never would’ve gotten Tocllul tattooed on my thigh. But, hey, I was practically a kid myself and thought Tocllul and I would be together forever.”

“Toc–what?” I asked.

“Tocllul. This Aztec princess I met while I was backpacking around Mexico.”

Trey leaned forward. “Did you say Aztec?”

“Yup. The last of her people. Her family had fallen on hard times, though, and had to sell souvenirs to make ends meet. I competed in several death‑defying games of honor to prove my worthiness. I finally won the right to be her royal consort, but after a couple months, I got restless. I wasn’t ready to settle down. It broke her heart when I left, but what could I do? I was young, filled with wanderlust. I had to be free. Free as a bird.”

“‘And this bird you cannot change,’” I said solemnly. Sydney shot me a wry look. “So you’ve still got her name on you?”

“Nah.” He pushed up one leg of his Bermuda shorts, revealing a hairy thigh and Tactful  written in slightly faded navy ink. “I got back to the States and found a guy to modify it. This was the best we could come up with the letters available.”

“It’s a very noble trait,” said Jackie. I studied her and couldn’t tell if she was lying either. It made the temptation to switch to aura vision that much stronger. She watched as Sydney helped patch Trey up. “Do you need anything else? Any of you? I admit, I feel rather useless.”

“You were the hostess,” said Sydney, stepping back as Trey put his shirt back on. “You’ve done plenty.”

“Well, I’m happy to do more if you guys want to stay for a while.”

Judging from the way Wolfe’s eyebrow rose over his eye patch, the only person he envisioned staying longer was himself.

“We need to get going,” I said, speaking for all of us. If Jackie gave Sydney permission to be out, I supposed we could theoretically use the time to sneak a bit to eat. Even Trey could come. I really didn’t care, so long as it gave me a few more precious moments with Sydney. A buzz on her cell phone told me that wasn’t an option. She checked the display and sighed.

“Yikes. This is the fourth one Zoe’s sent. I didn’t hear them over the needle.” She put the phone away. “I’m sure I’ll get an earful for being out this late.”

“Don’t go home,” I said impulsively. Trey was asking Wolfe a question, and I leaned close to Sydney’s ear. “Escape plan number thirty‑one: We’ll get in my car and won’t stop until we’re somewhere safe.”

The love that answered me in her eyes had an almost tangible quality, and I had to fight the urge to hold her. “We’d have to stop a dozen times. Your car gets terrible gas mileage.”

We walked out with Trey, who was handling all this surprisingly well for someone who got roped into an experiment he knew very little about. At first, I assumed it was just because he had that kind of faith in Sydney. Then I realized there was more to it.

“You’ve made my day letting me meet that guy,” Trey told her. “Maybe my year. He’s unreal. And he and Ms. T. . . . they’re really . . .?”

Sydney winced. “I think so.”

She walked out with Trey, giving me one last look, and I waited inside a couple of minutes, just so we wouldn’t be seen leaving together. Even in a strange neighborhood like this, we couldn’t take any chances. I knew I’d see her soon if I was able to pull off the dream, but that sense of melancholy clung to me over the frustrating state of our relationship. I didn’t want a dream. I wanted reality, and having it beyond my grasp bit at me deeply. Einstein had been right. The prescription might take the edge off, but there was no getting rid of your emotions. They were part of being alive.

Back at my place, I kept an eye on the clock, trying to gauge how long it would take Sydney to get to her room and go to sleep. She’d said we’d talk about the spirit dream later, but since we hadn’t, I was reading that as a go‑ahead. I was tired myself–a new experience–yet insanely anxious and curious about whether or not I’d be able to create the dream. I knew there’d be no shame in telling Sydney the truth. She’d understand and even be proud of what I’d done. But it was a reminder of my own initial fears about taking the mood stabilizer: that in freeing myself of spirit’s darkness, I’d also lose the ability to help those I cared about.

When enough time had passed, I relaxed into the meditative state necessary for dream walking. Reaching within myself, I pulled on the magic that slept inside me, the spirit tied into my life essence. I didn’t come up empty, not exactly, but it was like trying to grasp water in your palm. It kept slipping through my fingers. Panic began to move through me, and I staunchly refused to let it get the best of me. Just like with my professor and the aura, I kept trying and trying to grip the magic. There was even less of it than I’d had then, and a spirit dream required far more than viewing an aura. Nonetheless, I was finally able to spin enough into the foundation of a dream. My bedroom vanished, and I found myself standing in the Getty Villa’s courtyard. Only, it looked nothing like it. The world around me flickered and faded, like bad TV reception. And it took every ounce of my energy to maintain even that shoddy of an effort. Wasting no more time, I pulled Sydney into it.

“What’s going on?” she asked, looking around in surprise.

“I’m tired,” I said. “Downside of my new and improved sleeping habits.”

I saw the slightest glimmer of doubt in her eyes, and I could guess her thoughts. “I haven’t been drinking, Sage. I swear it. I really am just worn out. Let’s get Robin Hood in here fast because I don’t know how long I can do this.”

She looked concerned but nodded in agreement. Reaching out to another person proved even more difficult, and it again took a few false starts, earning more surprise from Sydney. Eventually, Marcus appeared, and although his form was slightly insubstantial, his smirk was as annoying as ever.

“I wondered when you guys would come calling again.” He frowned at the flickering surroundings. “What’s going on?”

“It’s not important,” I said preemptively. “And we’re short on time.”

Sydney took the cue and quickly told Marcus the new developments. Seeing him gape almost made the effort I was exerting worthwhile. “You actually did it? And used it? Did it work?”

“I don’t know yet,” Sydney admitted. “So far, everything’s gone as planned–and it doesn’t show up on the skin. It’s more or less invisible.” Marcus lit up at that. One drawback of the indigo ink was that it made Alchemist rebels pretty conspicuous. “I’ve got a few other . . . experiments to do on my friend. But I feel pretty good about it, and as long as I can make the time, producing more ink for you shouldn’t be a problem. When will you be back?”

“We expect to cross back in El Paso this week,” he said. “We’ve got a new person to ‘rescue,’ and then I should be able to make my way to you. Maybe a week and a half? Two at most? You think you’d have something by then?”

She nodded. “Should be able to have the Alchemist ink for sure.” I could tell by a catch in her voice that she was still trying to figure out how to make the original compulsion ink. “We can set up a drop at Adrian’s. Do you remember where he lives?”

“How could I forget?” Marcus rolled his eyes. “Such fond memories of throwing him around there.”

“Hey,” I said warningly. “I threw you  around.”

Sydney shot us both chastising looks. “I’ll make sure it’s there. Do you have cell phones yet?”

“No, but we will when we’re back in the States, and Sabrina still has your contact information, so I can get it from her. We’ll get in touch and finalize things.”

“Are we good then?” I asked. I was actually sweating. “I need to get some sleep.”

“We should be,” said Sydney, eyes worried as she looked me over. “Get in touch as soon as you can, Marcus.”

“I will,” he promised.

I took that as a dismissal and let him fade away. I could see from Sydney’s face that she wanted to talk to me, but something was buzzing in my head, and I lost my remaining control on the dream. It fell to pieces around us, and I was just barely able to tell her, “We’ll talk tomorrow.” She grew translucent and disappeared.

When I came to in the real world, I discovered the buzzing I’d heard was from my cell phone, which I’d left on vibrate on my bedside table. I was surprised to see Lissa’s name on the display and answered with shaking hands, astonished at how exhausted I felt.

“Kind of late for you, isn’t it, Your Majesty?”

“You’re on a human schedule,” she reminded me, amusement in her voice.

“Ah. Right. It all starts to run together after a while. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Nothing social, I’m afraid. You’re not going to like this, but I’ve got to play the queen card and summon you to Court. I know it’s a pain. I know, and I’m sorry. Really.”

“What’s going on?” Dread built in my stomach.

“Sonya wants your help on what to do with Olive and the blood. She says the magic is starting to fade out from it, and no one knows how to stop it.”

“She couldn’t just call me?”

“She says it’s too complicated and that you should be there firsthand since you helped contain it.”

“I see.” Spirit dreams and auras were problematic enough . . . how in the world was I supposed to even come close to replicating what I’d done before? And yet I wasn’t ready to tell Lissa about the pills either.

“Sonya was also wondering if . . .” Lissa’s voice grew hesitant. “Well, do you think Sydney would come? If we got permission from the Alchemists?”

My heart sped up. “Why her?”

“Sonya thought we could make some kind of binding tattoo out of the blood and says Sydney’s had experience with that kind of thing.” It was true. Keith had been busted for masterminding a performance‑enhancing tattoo ring that Sydney had uncovered. And if they really just did need me as an advisor on an experiment, then maybe I could hide my fading spirit. “And let’s face it, Sydney’s probably the only Alchemist who’d be able to handle time here at Court. It may be a few days. Do you think she’d do it? Travel with you? Or . . . well, maybe separately to hide your connection to Jill.”

Holy shit. I could scarcely believe what I was hearing. Lissa was offering the chance for me to get away with Sydney. True, it wasn’t exactly a romantic escapade, but the Moroi Royal Court was pretty much the last place we’d have to worry about Alchemist eyes. We’d just have to worry about my kind.

“If the Alchemists tell her to, she will.” I played it as cool as I could. “Orders trump fear with them. She’d probably be able to handle traveling with me too, if you want to have us meet up on a connection like last time.”

Lissa’s relief poured through the phone. “I’m so glad. That’ll make things a lot easier if we bring you guys and Neil together.”

“Neil?”

“Well, yeah. You should travel with protection. Unless you want Eddie this time?”

So much for my alone time with Sydney. Hopefully we’d find some at Court. “No, send Buckingham Palace. He’ll do less damage this way.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

She promised I’d have flight details in the morning, and when we disconnected, I collapsed onto the bed and fell almost instantly into asleep.

More buzzing woke me up, but it took me longer to find my phone since it was lost in the covers. I just barely answered in time and squinted at the bright morning sunlight coming in from the window I’d forgotten to cover last night.

“Adrian?” It was Jill, sounding anxious. “I just heard you’re going to Court.”

“Yup. Royal directives and all. Don’t worry, Jailbait. I’ll bring you a T‑shirt.”

“Adrian.” The sternness in my name was a remarkable match for what Sydney used sometimes. “I had to hear it from Neil.”

I groaned. “Don’t start this. Lissa said it’d be only a few days. You can live that long without him.”

“No,” she said impatiently. “You missed the point. I had to hear it from him. Because I didn’t read it from you.”

My brain was still groggy with sleep and fatigue, though a prickling along my skin warned me that I was teetering on the edge of something. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, I don’t know what’s going on with you anymore. The bond’s gone dark.”

CHAPTER 14

SYDNEY

IT’S AMAZING HOW NICE PEOPLE CAN BE when they think you’re going to die.

“Sydney, I’m sorry. I really am.”

“And I told you to forget about it.” I didn’t even look at Zoe as I perused my sweater selection. My clothes were kept in a complex system organized by temperature and occasion. Pennsylvania in December was going to require some of my heaviest clothing.

“I just got upset that Dad didn’t even seem to notice me,” she continued.

Welcome to my world,  I thought. It was ironic that I was now in a phase of my life where I finally had his attention and didn’t want it. I was at least glad we were having this discussion, though. We’d talked little about our dinner with Dad, and if she was second‑guessing criticizing me, that was good both for me personally and perhaps for her progress in lightening up in Alchemist beliefs. I felt a little bad that this was coming out because she thought my Court trip would endanger my life, but no way would I correct her.

“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.”