Silver Shadows (32 page)

“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.”

I
DON’T THINK
S
YDNEY 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.”

“We’ll get it.” My heart ached for her as I thought back to those awful moments on the rooftop when she’d faced down Sheridan, standing there in that glittering dress and wielding flame like some sort of avenging goddess. She’d been beautiful and terrible to behold, exactly as she’d needed to be to make Sheridan cave. Only I understood what it had cost Sydney to be put in that position, and if I could help it, she’d never go through anything like that again.

“I’m proud of you,” she added unexpectedly. “You’ve used so much spirit throughout all of this and managed to keep in control of yourself. That doesn’t mean I approve of it becoming a regular thing, but you’ve really shown you can master it without any dire side effects.”

Yes
, agreed Aunt Tatiana.
We certainly have.

Indecision burned through me. I longed to tell Sydney everything—she was my wife, after all—but admitting I was tormented by a figment of my imagination was just too much.
Besides, once this was all resolved, I’d find a way to get rid of Aunt Tatiana, and none of this would matter.

Good luck with that
, she whispered in my mind.

To Sydney, I said, “Just part of our new life. Like I said, it’s going to be all smooth sailing from here on out.”

I topped off our glasses, but rather than bring about any wild festivities, the extra drinking just added on to what was pretty severe exhaustion for both of us. We’d drained ourselves mentally, physically, and magically today, and we both eventually dozed off, with her still curled up on my lap and head resting against my shoulder. Her last words before sleep were, “I wish I’d kept my bouquet.”

“You made some girl’s night,” I told her, stifling a yawn. “And I’ll get you peonies on every anniversary, for the rest of our lives.”

The next thing I knew, one of the uncomfortable guardians was waking us up, and the jet was on the ground. Peering out the window, I saw that we’d actually landed at Court, a privilege only given to a few. Most visitors landed at a nearby regional airport or rented a car at some major airport, like Philadelphia. It paid to be about the queen’s business, I supposed. I noted also that it looked to be about noon outside, which was a time most Moroi on vampiric schedules were fast asleep. I hoped it meant we really would get shoved to some room for a while until everyone was up and about.

No such luck.

We were immediately escorted straight from the plane to the palace, where we were told Lissa “and others” wanted to speak to us immediately. We didn’t even get a chance to change, and though I would never get tired of Sydney in that gorgeous
dress, I knew both of us were at a point where jeans and a T-shirt would’ve been welcome. If that wasn’t going to be an option, though, I decided to play up what I had. I retied my bow tie and put the tuxedo jacket back on.

“Let’s do this,” I said to the waiting guardians.

We were taken to a room of the palace I didn’t get to very often, since most of my meetings with Lissa—and, in the past, my aunt—had been of a casual nature. The room we went to now was used for much more formal occasions, when Lissa actually had to have state meetings and conduct royal business. There was even a throne for her to sit on—albeit a modest and tasteful oak one without any extra embellishment. Her clothes were nice but nothing fancy, and her only nod to her title was a tiny tiara sitting atop her unbound hair. Silent guardians ringed the room’s walls, but I paid no more attention to them than I did furniture. I was much more interested in those Lissa was speaking with: a motley assortment of people who both sat and stood, all seeming edgy, as though they were waiting for something. Us, I realized.

Rose, Dimitri, and Christian were there, which came as no surprise. Lissa wouldn’t be without her confidantes, especially when it came to me. Marie Conta, an older Moroi who was an advisor of a more official nature, also hovered nearby. She’d stood by Lissa and helped her through her controversial rule, so it made sense Marie would come for something like this. It wasn’t even
that
unexpected to see my parents on hand.

What did take me aback—and Sydney too, judging by the stiffening of her hand in mine—was that there were Alchemists here already. Not only that, they were very notable Alchemists: Sydney’s father, her sister Zoe, and a guy it took me a moment to
place. Ian, that was it. A guy who’d once had a pretty hardcore crush on Sydney.

This was the mess we strolled into, all dolled up in our wedding finery.

I’d been responsible for a lot of shenanigans in my life, but this was the first time I’d ever actually rendered an entire room speechless. Eyes widened. Jaws dropped. Even a few of the stone-faced guardians standing along the walls looked astonished.

“Don’t all speak at once,” I said.

Sydney’s father got to his feet, face flushed with anger. “What in the world is this abomination?”

Lissa, only slightly more tactful, asked, “Adrian, is this some kind of joke?”

“What’s a joke is waking everyone up for this,” I said glibly. “I mean, I know you’re all excited to see us, but there was no need to—”

“I demand you turn her over to our custody immediately,” exclaimed Sydney’s father. “So that we can stop this farce before it goes any farther. We’ll take it from here.”

“Mr. Sage says Sydney’s committed terrible crimes among the Alchemists,” said Lissa. “They claim you did too, Adrian, but they’re willing to overlook yours if we give her to them, since you’re one of my subjects.”

I stood my ground. “The only crime we committed was getting her and a bunch of other poor wretches out of that freak show of a rehabilitation center—one they were going to abandon her to burn in. And you know what crimes she and the other prisoners committed? Treating dhampirs and Moroi like real people. Imagine that.”

“According to them,” said Lissa calmly, “Sydney tried to burn some of their people last night.”

“It was a bluff,” I stated. “They’re still alive, aren’t they?”

“This is irrelevant,” snapped Ian. He stayed sitting, and judging from his proximity to Zoe, it looked like he’d shifted his affections from one Sage sister to another. “It’s not for you to judge our people. We’ll handle this.”

This was it, the moment I dropped the real blow on them. “Well, that’s the thing, your majesty. Sydney
is
one of your subjects, now that she’s my wife. You said you wouldn’t give me to them because I’m under your protection, right? Are you saying you’d abandon my wife to any less?”

That drew the room to silence again until Lissa found her voice. “Adrian … is that was
this
is about?” She gestured to Sydney and me in our formal wear when she said
this
but couldn’t articulate anything more precise. “Why you did, um, this? You think it gets her Moroi citizenship or something? That’s not how it works. Not at all. I know you care about her—”

“Care about her?” I exclaimed. I realized then that none of them really and truly got it. All the times I’d harassed Lissa to help Sydney over these last few months, Lissa had assumed it was out of my feelings of friendship for Sydney. And now, she and the others from Court thought that this was just some crazy stunt I’d pulled off to get my way. Only the Alchemists had an inkling of the sincerity of my feelings, but those feelings were twisted and wrong in their eyes. “Lissa, I
love
her. I didn’t marry her as some sort of joke! I married her because I love her and want to spend the rest of my life with her. And I’d hoped, as my sovereign, you’d stand by me to protect me and my loved ones—especially since I’m guessing this lot has no hard proof
of the crimes we’re being accused of. You told me last month that you couldn’t take risks for anyone but your subjects. Well, I know she’s not technically your subject or Moroi, but
I
am, and if the promises you’ve made to me, as one of your people, truly mean anything, they will extend to her. We’re married. She’s my family now. We’re bound together for the rest of our lives, and if you’re going to let them haul her off, you might as well cast me out now too.”

Lissa looked taken aback, but Jared Sage—my father-in-law now, I realized—showed nothing but contempt. “This is ridiculous. Humans and Moroi can’t be married. That’s your way, as well as ours. This isn’t a real marriage.”

“Not according to the state of Nevada,” I said cheerfully. “We’ve got the paperwork to prove it. Get us a laptop, and we can all look at the wedding pictures together.”

Rose’s expression was hard to read. I was positive she was as shocked by these new developments as everyone else, but something told me she’d take on an attitude similar to what our friends in Palm Springs eventually had: acceptance and support.

“Liss,” she said, “let them stay. Don’t hand over Sydney.”

Marie Conta, standing near Lissa’s throne, leaned over and murmured something into her queen’s ear. Judging from Marie’s expression, I was guessing it was pretty much the opposite of what Rose had just advocated.

This time, Ian did get to his feet. “This isn’t a decision you get to make!” he said incredulously. “Sydney Sage’s fate isn’t in your hands. You have no right to—”