With another wave of my hand, the walls of flame grew taller once more, eliciting new screams. The exertion of this kind of magic had me dizzy on my feet, but I kept my gaze fixed and stony as I stared at Sheridan. She believed I was a black-hearted evildoer who had turned her back on humankind. She also believed I was deeply, madly in love with a vampire I’d do anything for. Only one of those profiles was true, but I needed to convince her of both.
“Test me!” I screamed again.
“Okay, calm down, Sydney.” Sheridan looked between me and the other Alchemists, of whom only their fiery prison could be seen. “What do you want me to do?” she cried at last.
“Give Adrian the gun,” I said.
The tension grew impossibly thick around us as she considered this. I was about to lose my control on the magic and was worried her indecision would call my bluff. But then finally she lowered the gun from his head and handed it to him. He took it and wasted no time scurrying to my side, his face pale and worried.
“Keep it aimed at her,” I told him. To her, I said, “When I drop the fire, order them to put their weapons on the ground and hands on their heads.”
With a relief that nearly made me keel over, I released the magic. The walls of fire disappeared, and Sheridan immediately shouted the commands I’d given her. The Alchemists complied, and once they were unarmed, I ordered them over to the far side of the roof where she stood. Beyond all of us, the helicopter was finally attempting to land, now that the fire was gone.
“All of you, lay down on the ground,” I told Sheridan and the other Alchemists. “And nobody even thinks of moving until that helicopter’s long gone. Let’s go, Adrian.”
He and I slowly made our way across the roof to the helicopter, angling ourselves in a way that let us watch the Alchemists. Adrian admirably kept the gun pointed in their direction, even though I was pretty sure there was zero chance he could have actually hit one with any accuracy, even if he’d wanted to. A guardian I didn’t know stood beside the helicopter’s doorway, looking understandably confused.
“Am I glad to see you,” Adrian told him.
“Glad I could help,” the other man said uneasily. He glanced over at the Alchemists on the ground. “Though I feel like I should have done more. What’s going on?”
“Never mind, you’re doing plenty,” said Adrian. “Can we go now?”
The guardian gestured to the helicopter. “After you, Lord Ivashkov.” He hesitated. “You are Adrian Ivashkov, right?”
“Sure am,” said Adrian. He beckoned me forward. “And this is my wife.”
CHAPTER 22 Adrian
I DON’T THINK SYDNEY OR I truly relaxed until we were on Olga Dobrova’s private jet hours later, up in the air and on our way to Court on the other side of the country. We’d been warned we’d have to stop for refueling on such a small plane, but I wasn’t worried. They’d do it in discreet places, and besides, the Alchemists wouldn’t dare attack a Moroi-owned plane under royal orders.
Two guardians were flying back with us, but otherwise, we had the jet to ourselves. The guardians sat near the front, while I occupied a cushy seat in the back, with my feet propped up on a large table. Sydney had disappeared into the bathroom shortly after takeoff, wanting to redo her hair after the helicopter and wind had disheveled it. “It’s my wedding day,” she’d explained earlier. “I need some dignity.”
When she emerged, I saw that she’d actually managed to repair it to a fair approximation of what the stylists had done earlier, not that I cared. I thought she’d been beautiful with it wild and windswept. The guardians nodded politely at her as she walked past, both obviously tense and uncertain in her presence. No one had briefed them that I was bringing a human bride back with me, and it was clear that while their training had prepared them for many a dire situation, this scenario was nothing they had any experience with.
I patted my lap as she approached. “Come here, Mrs. Ivashkov.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know how I feel about that,” she warned. But to my delight, she did actually sit in my lap, though maybe that was just because a recently roused Hopper had curled up and fallen asleep in the chair opposite me at the table.
I put an arm around her slim waist and held up my purchase from the wine store with my other hand. “Look what I opened for us to celebrate,” I said. “Champagne.”
Sydney peered at the label. “It says it’s a sparkling Riesling from California.”
“Close enough,” I said. “It popped when I opened the cork, and the guy at the store gave me these plastic champagne flutes for free. He said something about a citrus bouquet and a late harvest. I didn’t follow it all, but it seemed celebratory to me.”
“Alcohol dulls human and Moroi magic,” she warned.
“And this is still our wedding day,” I countered. “Not to mention the only time we’re probably going to get to do this. Once we get to Court, we’ll want to stay clearheaded … not that I expect it to be anything like what we just went through. Compared to that, life at Court’s going to be a breeze.”
I expected another protest, but to my surprise, she accepted and let me pour us two flutes, which I deftly managed while still keeping her on my lap. I offered some to the guardians, but that actually only succeeded in making them look more uncomfortable than they already did.
“You know,” said Sydney, after a sip. “I kind of can taste some citrus in this. Just barely. Like a hint of orange. And it’s sweeter than I thought, but that’d make sense if the guy said it was a late harvest varietal. Grapes retain more sugar the longer they stay on the vine.”
“I knew it,” I said triumphantly. “I knew this was exactly what would happen if I ever got you to drink.”
She tilted her head, puzzled. “What?”
“Never mind.” I brushed a kiss over her lips and then studied her face, finally daring to believe that this beautiful, brave woman was really my wife. Her face was lovely in the ambient glow of the jet’s interior, and I hoped I could remember exactly how she looked right now for the rest of my life. “Huh. Look at that.”
“Look at what?” she asked.
I touched her cheek. The majority of her makeup had stayed on flawlessly, but some of the covering on her tattoo had rubbed off in places, revealing bits of the lily. “It’s turning silver,” I said.
“Is it?” She looked startled. “Marcus’s did, but that took years after he sealed it.”
“It hasn’t completely changed,” I said. “It’s still mostly gold. But there’s definitely silver starting to show here and there. Little shadows edging the gold.” I trailed my fingers down along her neck, to her exquisitely bare shoulder. “It’s beautiful. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried, just surprised.”
“Maybe everything you’ve done recently has expedited the process.”
“Maybe,” she agreed. She took another sip and leaned back into me with a content sigh. “I don’t suppose when we get to Court, they’re going to just leave us alone and let us have our wedding night in some posh honeymoon suite?”
I shrugged, not wanting to worry her. “We’ll probably have to answer a few boring questions, that’s all. All the more reason to enjoy life now.”
“I’m okay with boring,” she said, her brown eyes staring off. “I’d like peace for a while. No drama. No life-threatening situations. I’m so tired of it all, Adrian. Maybe they didn’t break me, but the Alchemists definitely wore me down in re-education. I’m sick of pain and violence. I want to help put an end to it with others … but first, I just need a break myself.”