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.
“Sydney, I’m so happy to see you again. If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know. And you must be Neil.”
“Your majesty.” Neil swept her a bow so low that his forehead touched the ground. Above him, Adrian rolled his eyes.
“Easy there, Lancelot,” Adrian said. “I don’t think bowing is required when she’s in jeans and bunny slippers.”
Neil rose gracefully to his feet. “A queen’s regality is not diminished by her attire.”
Adrian glanced at the others for sympathy. “We’ve been together for almost ten hours today.”
Lissa’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
Introductions were made to those who needed them. I knew most of the major players in the room. Dimitri and Sonya were there, full of smiles for me, and Rose went so far as to give me a hug. I’d met Lissa’s boyfriend, Christian Ozera, briefly before, and although I didn’t know him well, he gave me a nod of greeting. He and Adrian regarded each other warily, and I recalled something Adrian had once told me about him: “His aunt’s in prison for killing my aunt. I don’t blame him for it. He doesn’t blame me. We still like each other. But that doesn’t mean things aren’t weird, you know?”
Two girls sat together on a loveseat, keeping their distance and watching the reunion quietly. One was a dhampir with black hair and coppery skin. The other, a Moroi, had a multitude of dark curls and beautiful gray eyes. Judging from the way Neil couldn’t take his eyes off the dhampir, I could guess who the girls were. Adrian gave them one of his most charismatic grins.
“Well, well. Looks like you guys survived the trip, huh? I hope they’ve been showing you a good time. The royal treatment, if you will. Golden faucets. Velvet robes. Champagne for breakfast. And for lunch. And dinner. In fact, why isn’t there a bottle in here now?”
Olive and Nina Sinclair responded with smiles, especially Nina. “You didn’t bring it?” she asked, with a bit more warmth than I liked.
“I can send for some,” said Lissa. She started to turn toward one of the guards at the door, but Adrian waved her off.
“Nah, we’ve got to be all responsible and stuff to deal with the spirit problem, right? We can celebrate later. Besides, Belikov can’t hold his liquor.”
Dimitri looked startled at that, and I had to repress a laugh at Adrian’s deflection. When he was here, “Lord Ivashkov” could probably get anything he wanted, and I was proud of Adrian for holding true to his promise to steer clear of his vices. It was just as well he was facing away from me at the time because my face probably would’ve betrayed my affection.
Formal introductions were made between the Sinclair sisters and me. They murmured polite greetings and regarded me with curiosity before they dismissed me, turning their attention back to the others. An Alchemist was a novelty but nothing particularly exciting.
I assumed we’d all be reconvening in the morning, but as Sonya began discussing what she’d learned about Olive’s blood sample, I realized we were doing business here and now. I nearly groaned as the obvious hit me. It’s the middle of their day. They’re all bright-eyed and ready to get going. That was probably why Adrian had power napped. Neil, as a dhampir, would have extra stamina and be able to go longer without sleep. But me? I was merely human, and it was past my bedtime in Palm Springs. But, if they were ready to do this, then so was I. A yawn started to well up in me, and I staunchly put it down.
“There’s no question about it,” Sonya was saying. “That blood sample is brimming with a kind of spirit we’ve never seen. And that charm you put on the silver is ingenious, but—”
The door burst open, and a Moroi man came striding forward with a guardian on his heels. “The gang’s all here, I see. You must have forgotten to send for me.”
Rose rolled her eyes. “You weren’t invited, old man.”
Abe Mazur, her flamboyantly dressed father, clucked his tongue in disapproval. “Yes, because it makes perfect sense that one of the biggest breakthroughs in our world should be left in the hands of kids.”
“I’m almost thirty,” protested Sonya.
“Exactly my point.” Abe took in his surroundings and brightened when he saw me. “My favorite Alchemist. So nice of you to lend your expertise.”
I gave him a tight smile. “Happy to help.”
Through some unspoken command, a servant appeared with drinks and snacks—though no champagne. Once everyone had reconciled themselves to Abe’s uninvited presence, Sonya returned to her presentation and handed Adrian a small box. Curious, I walked over to study it, very conscious of the scant inches between us. The box held a small vial of blood with silver rings around it. After a few moments of scrutiny, I glanced up and saw Sonya watching Adrian and me with a frown. Her features smoothed when she noticed me looking at her.
“What do you think?” she asked. “Is there any way to reinforce the seals around it?”
Adrian looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Um, I don’t think so. I used up all my tricks doing this the first time.”
“But you can feel the way the spirit’s intertwined with the blood’s substance,” she pointed out. Again, he seemed troubled.
“Yeah, I noticed. That’s nothing I can replicate.”
“Me either,” Sonya said.
“Me either,” added Lissa.
Sonya sighed. “And that’s the key, I think. Even if we can’t sense it in Olive’s blood anymore, I’m certain it altered her in a way that now prevents Strigoi conversion. If we could do that for others . . .”
He nodded in agreement. “Yup. But I don’t know how. Unless . . .”
I noticed then how everyone in the room was watching him, faces expectant. They were deferring to his expertise. Adrian had been right about one thing when defending his use of spirit: He’d done what no one else could. I wondered if anyone—including him—had ever expected they’d reach a point where he would be a respected authority, not just a joke. That kind of responsibility and prestige suited him. Lord Ivashkov.