We reached the holding building, and I took the steps up two at a time. "Even if they've lightened the guardians on Dimitri, they still won't let me in. The ones that are there would know I was ordered to keep away."
"A friend of mine's covering the front shift right now. We won't have long, but he'll tell the guardians in the holding area that you were authorized to come down."
Mikhail was about to open the door, and I stopped him, putting my hand on his arm. "Why are you doing this for me? The Moroi Council might not think Dimitri's a big deal, but the guardians do. You could get in big trouble."
He looked down at me, again with that small, bitter smile. "Do you have to ask?"
I thought about it. "No," I said softly.
"When I lost Sonya . . ." Mikhail closed his eyes for a heartbeat, and when he opened them, they seemed to be staring off into the past. "When I lost her, I didn't want to go on living. She was a good person–really. She turned Strigoi out of desperation. She saw no other way to save herself from spirit. I would give anything–
anything
–for a chance to help her, to fix things between us. I don't know if that'll ever be possible for us, but it
is
possible for you right now. I can't let you lose this."
With that, he let us in, and sure enough, there was a different guardian on duty. Just as Mikhail had said, the guy called down to tell the jail guardians Dimitri had a visitor. Mikhail's friend seemed incredibly nervous about it all, which was understandable. Still, he was willing to help. It was amazing, I thought, what friends would do for each other. These last couple of weeks were undeniable proof of that.
Just like at Lissa's visit, two guardians showed up to escort me downstairs. I recognized them from when I'd been in her head, and they seemed surprised to see me. If they'd overheard Dimitri adamantly saying he didn't want me to visit, then my presence would indeed be shocking. But as far as they knew, someone in power had condoned me being here, so they asked no questions.
Mikhail trailed us as we wound our way down, and I felt my heartbeat and breathing grow rapid. Dimitri. I was about to see Dimitri. What would I say? What would I do? It was almost too much to comprehend. I had to keep mentally slapping myself to focus, or else I was going to slide into dumbstruck shock.
When we reached the hallway that held the cells, I saw two guardians standing in front of Dimitri's cell, one at the far end, and two others by the entrance we'd come through. I stopped, uneasy about the thought of others overhearing me talk to Dimitri. I didn't want an audience like Lissa had had, but with the emphasis on security here, I might not have a choice.
"Can I get a little privacy?" I asked.
One of my escorts shook his head. "Official orders. Two guardians have to be posted at the cell at all times."
"She's a guardian," pointed out Mikhail mildly. "So am I. Let us go. The rest can wait by the door."
I flashed Mikhail a grateful look. I could handle having him nearby. The others, deciding we would be safe enough, moved discreetly to the ends of the hall. It wasn't total and complete privacy, but they wouldn't hear everything.
My heart felt ready to burst from my chest as Mikhail and I walked over to Dimitri's cell and faced it. He was seated almost as he had been when Lissa arrived: on the bed, curled up into himself, back facing us.
Words stuck in my throat. Coherent thought fled from my mind. It was like I'd totally forgotten the reason I'd come here.
"Dimitri," I said. At least, that's what I tried to say. I choked up a little, so the sounds that came out of my mouth were garbled. It was apparently enough, though, because Dimitri's back suddenly went rigid. He didn't turn around.
"Dimitri," I repeated, more clearly this time. "It's . . . me."
There was no need for me to say any more. He'd known from that first attempt at his name who I was. I had a feeling he would have known my voice in any situation. He probably knew the sound of my heartbeat and breathing. As it was, I think I stopped breathing while I waited for his response. When it came, it was a little disappointing.
"No."
"No what?" I asked. "As in, no, it's not me?"
He exhaled in frustration, a sound almost–but not quite–like the one he used to make when I did something particularly ridiculous in our trainings. "No, as in I don't want to see you." His voice was thick with emotion. "They weren't supposed to let you in."
"Yeah. Well, I kind of found a work-around."
"Of course you did."
He still wouldn't face me, which was agonizing. I glanced over at Mikhail, who gave me a nod of encouragement. I guessed I should be glad that Dimitri was talking to me at all.
"I had to see you. I had to know if you were okay."
"I'm sure Lissa's already updated you."
"I had to see for myself."
"Well, now you see."
"All I see is your back."
It was maddening, yet every word I got out of him was a gift. It felt like a thousand years since I'd heard his voice. Like before, I wondered how I could have ever confused the Dimitri in Siberia with this one. His voice had been identical in both places, the same pitch and accent, yet as a Strigoi, his words had always left a chill in the air. This was warm. Honey and velvet and all sorts of wonderful things wrapping around me, no matter the terrible things he was saying.
"I don't want you here," said Dimitri flatly. "I don't want to see you."
I took a moment to assess strategy. Dimitri still had that depressed, hopeless feel around him. Lissa had approached it with kindness and compassion. She'd gotten through his defenses, though a lot of that was because he regarded her as his savior. I could try a similar tactic. I could be gentle and supportive and full of love–all of which were true. I loved him. I wanted to help him so badly. Yet I wasn't sure that particular method would work for me. Rose Hathaway was not always known for the soft approach. I did, however, play on his sense of obligation.
"You can't ignore me," I said, trying to keep my volume out of range of the other guardians. "You owe me. I saved you."
A few moments of silence passed. "Lissa saved me," he said carefully.
Anger burned within my chest, just it had when I'd watched Lissa visit him. How could he hold her in such high regard but not
me
?
"How do you think she got to that point?" I demanded. "How do you think she learned how to save you? Do you have any idea what we–what
I
-had to go through to get that information? You think me going to Siberia was crazy? Believe me, you haven't even come close to seeing crazy. You know me. You know what I'm capable of. And I broke my own records this time. You. Owe. Me."
It was harsh, but I needed a reaction from him. Some kind of emotion. And I got it. He jerked around, eyes glinting and power crackling through his body. As always, his movements were both fierce and graceful. Likewise, his voice was a mix of emotions: anger, frustration, and concern.
"Then the best thing I can do is–"
He froze. The brown eyes that had been narrowed with aggravation suddenly went wide with . . . what? Amazement? Awe? Or perhaps that stunned feeling I kept having when I saw him?
Because suddenly, I was pretty sure he was experiencing the same thing I had earlier. He'd seen me plenty of times in Siberia. He'd seen me just the other night at the warehouse. But now . . . now he was truly viewing me with his own eyes. Now that he was no longer Strigoi, his whole world was different. His outlook and feelings were different. Even his soul was different.
It was like one of those moments when people talked about their lives flashing before their eyes. Because as we stared at one another, every part of our relationship replayed in my mind's eye. I remembered how strong and invincible he'd been when we first met, when he'd come to bring Lissa and me back to the folds of Moroi society. I remembered the gentleness of his touch when he'd bandaged my bloodied and battered hands. I remembered him carrying me in his arms after Victor's daughter Natalie had attacked me. Most of all, I remembered the night we'd been together in the cabin, just before the Strigoi had taken him. A year. We'd known each other only a year, but we'd lived a lifetime in it.
And he was realizing that too, I knew, as he studied me. His gaze was all-powerful, taking in every single one of my features and filing them away. Dimly, I tried to recall what I looked like today. I still wore the dress from the secret meeting and knew it looked good on me. My eyes were probably bloodshot from crying earlier, and I'd only had time for a quick brushing of my hair before heading off with Adrian.
Somehow, I doubted any of it mattered. The way Dimitri was looking at me . . . it confirmed everything I'd suspected. The feelings he'd had for me before he'd been turned–the feelings that had become twisted while a Strigoi–were all still there. They
had
to be. Maybe Lissa was his savior. Maybe the rest of the Court thought she was a goddess. I knew, right then, that no matter how bedraggled I looked or how blank he tried to keep his face, I was a goddess to him.
He swallowed and forcibly gained control of himself, just like he always had. Some things never changed. "Then the best thing I can do," he continued calmly, "is to stay away from you. That's the best way to repay the debt."
It was hard for me to keep control and maintain some sort of logical conversation. I was as awestruck as he was. I was also outraged. "You offered to repay Lissa by staying by her side forever!"
"I didn't do the things . . ." He averted his eyes for a moment, again struggling for control, and then met mine once more. "I didn't do the things to her that I did to you."
"You weren't you! I don't care." My temper was starting to burn again
"How many?" he exclaimed. "How many guardians died last night because of what I did?"
"I . . . I think six or seven." Harsh losses. I felt a small pang in my chest, recalling the names read off in that basement room.
"Six or seven," Dimitri repeated flatly, anguish in his voice. "Dead in one night. Because of me."
"You didn't act alone! And I told you, you weren't you. You couldn't control yourself. It doesn't matter to me–"
"It matters to me!" he shouted, his voice ringing through the hallway. The guardians at each end shifted but didn't approach. When Dimitri spoke again, he kept his voice lower, but it was still trembling with wild emotions. "It matters to me. That's what you don't get. You can't understand. You can't understand what it's like knowing what I did. That whole time being Strigoi . . . it's like a dream now, but it's one I remember clearly. There can be no forgiveness for me. And what happened with you? I remember that most of all. Everything I did. Everything I
wanted
to do."
"You're not going to do it now," I pleaded. "So let it go. Before-before everything happened, you said we could be together. That we'd get assignments near each other and–"
"Roza," he interrupted, the nickname piercing my heart. I think he'd slipped up, not truly meaning to call me that. There was a twisted smile on his lips, one without humor. "Do you really think they're going to ever let me be a guardian again? It'll be a miracle if they let me live!"
"That's not true. Once they realize you've changed and that you're really your old self . . . everything'll go back to how it was."
He shook his head sadly. "Your optimism . . . your belief that you can make anything happen. Oh, Rose. It's one of the amazing things about you. It's also one of the most infuriating things about you."
"I believed that you could come back from being a Strigoi," I pointed out. "Maybe my belief in the impossible isn't so crazy after all."
This conversation was so grave, so heartbreaking, yet it still kept reminding me of some of our old practice sessions. He'd try to convince me of some serious point, and I'd counter it with Rose-logic. It would usually earn me a mix of amusement and exasperation. I had the feeling that were the situation just a little different, he'd have that same attitude now. But this was not a practice session. He wouldn't smile and roll his eyes. This was serious. This was life and death.
"I'm grateful for what you did," he said formally, still struggling to master his feelings. It was another trait we shared, both of us always working to stay in control. He'd always been better at it than me. "I do owe you. And it's a debt I can't pay. Like I said, the best thing I can do is stay out of your life."
"If you're part of Lissa's, then you can't avoid me."
"People can exist around each other without . . . without there being any more than that," he said firmly. It was such a Dimitri thing to say. Logic fighting emotion.
And that's when I lost it. Like I said, he was always better at keeping control. Me? Not so much.
I threw myself against the bars, so rapidly that even Mikhail flinched. "But I love you!" I hissed. "And I know you love me too. Do you really think you can spend the rest of your life ignoring that when you're around me?"
The troubling part was that for a very long time at the Academy, Dimitri had been convinced he could do exactly that. And he had been prepared to spend his life not acting on his feelings for me.
"You love me," I repeated. "I know you do." I stretched my arm through the bars. It was a long way from touching him, but my fingers reached out desperately, as though they might suddenly grow and be able to make contact. That was all I needed. One touch from him to know he still cared, one touch to feel the warmth of his skin and-
"Isn't it true," said Dimitri quietly, "that you're involved with Adrian Ivashkov?"
My arm dropped.
"Wh–where did you hear that?"
"Things get around," he said, echoing Mikhail.
"They certainly do," I muttered.
"So are you?" he asked more adamantly.