She lowered her head a moment in what must have been a show of grieving. I recalled last night when she’d choked up over Priscilla. Had that been an act? Was her best friend’s death a convenient way for Tatiana to push forward with her own agenda. Surely . . . surely, she wasn’t that cold.
The queen lifted her head and continued. “And again, we’re happy to listen to you register your opinions, although by our own laws, this matter
is
settled. Further sessions will have to wait until an adequate period of mourning has passed for the unfortunate departed.”
Her tone and body language implied that this was indeed the end of the discussion. Then, an impertinent voice suddenly broke the room’s silence.
My voice.
“Well, I’d kind of like to register my opinion now.”
Inside my head, Lissa was shouting:
Sit down, sit down!
But I was already on my feet, moving toward the Council’s table. I stopped at a respectful distance, one that would let them notice me but not get me tackled by guardians. And oh, they noticed me. The herald flushed bright red at my rule breaking.
“You are out of line and in violation of all Council protocol! Sit down right now before you are removed.” He glanced over at the guardians, like he expected them to come charging forward right then. None of them moved. Either they didn’t perceive me as a threat, or they were wondering what I was going to do. I was also wondering this.
With a small, delicate hand gesture, Tatiana waved the herald back. “I daresay there’s been so much breach of protocol today that one more incident won’t make a difference.” She fixed me with a kind smile, one that was apparently intended to make us look like friends. “Besides, Guardian Hathaway is one of our most valuable assets. I’m always interested in what she has to say.”
Was she really? Time to find out. I addressed my words to the Council.
“This thing you’ve just passed is utterly and totally insane.” I considered it a great feat on my part that I didn’t use any swear words there because I had some adjectives in mind that were much more fitting. Who said I didn’t understand Council etiquette? “How can any of you sit there and think it’s okay to send sixteen-year-olds out to risk their lives?”
“It’s only two years’ difference,” said the Tarus prince. “It’s not like we’re sending ten-year-olds.”
“Two years is a lot.” I thought for a moment about when I’d been sixteen. What had happened in those two years? I’d run off with Lissa, watched friends die, traveled around the world, fallen in love. . . . “You can live a lifetime in two years. And if you want us to keep being on the front lines—which most of us willingly do when we graduate—then you owe us those two years.”
This time, I glanced back at the audience. The reactions were mixed. Some clearly agreed with me, nodding along. Some looked as though nothing in the world would change their minds about the decree being just. Others wouldn’t meet my eyes. . . . Had I swayed them? Were they undecided? Embarrassed at their own selfishness? They might be the keys.
“Believe me, I would love to see your people enjoy their youth.” This was Nathan Ivashkov speaking. “But right now, that’s not an option we have. The Strigoi are closing in. We’re losing more Moroi and guardians every day. Getting more fighters out there will stop this, and really, we’re just letting those dhampirs’ skills go to waste by waiting a couple years. This plan will protect
both
our races.”
“It’ll kill mine off faster!” I said. Realizing I might start shouting if I lost control, I took a deep breath before going on. “They won’t be ready. They won’t have all the training they need.”
And that was where Tatiana herself made her master play. “Yet, by your own admission, you were certainly prepared at a young age. You killed more Strigoi before you were eighteen than some guardians kill their entire lives.”
I fixed her with a narrow-eyed look. “I,” I said coldly, “had an excellent instructor. One that you currently have locked up. If you want to talk about skills going to waste, then go look in your own jail.”
There was a slight stirring in the audience, and Tatiana’s
we’re pals
face grew a little cold. “That is
not
an issue we are addressing today. Increasing our protection is. I believe you have even commented in the past that the guardian ranks are lacking in numbers.” My own words, thrown back at me from last night. “They need to be filled. You—and many of your companions—have proven you’re able to defend us.”
“We were exceptions!” It was egotistical, but it was the truth. “Not all novices have reached that level.”
A dangerous glint appeared in her eye, and her voice grew silky smooth again. “Well, then, perhaps we need more excellent training. Perhaps we should send
you
to St. Vladimir’s or some other academy so that you can improve your young colleagues’ education. My understanding is that your upcoming assignment will be a permanent administrative one here at Court. If you wanted to help make this new decree successful, we could change that assignment and make you an instructor instead. It might speed up your return to a bodyguard assignment.”
I gave her a dangerous smile of my own. “Do not,” I warned, “try to threaten, bribe, or blackmail me. Ever. You won’t like the consequences.”
That might have been going too far. People in the audience exchanged startled looks. Some of their expressions were disgusted, as though they could expect nothing better of me. I recognized a few of those Moroi. They were ones I’d overheard talking about my relationship with Adrian and how the queen hated it. I also suspected a number of royals from last night’s ceremony were here too. They’d seen Tatiana lead me out and no doubt thought my outburst and disrespect today were a type of revenge.
The Moroi weren’t the only ones who reacted. Regardless of whether they shared my opinions, a few guardians stepped forward. I made sure to stay exactly where I was, and that, along with Tatiana’s lack of fear, kept them in place.
“We’re getting weary of this conversation,” Tatiana said, switching to the royal
we
. “You can speak more—and do so in the proper manner—when we have our next meeting and open the floor to comments. For now, whether you like it or not, this resolution has been passed. It’s law.”
She’s letting you off!
Lissa’s voice was back in my head.
Back away from this before you do something that’ll get you in real trouble. Argue later.
It was ironic because I’d been on the verge of exploding and letting my full rage out. Lissa’s words stopped me—but not because of their content. It was Lissa herself. When Adrian and I had discussed the results earlier, I’d noted one piece of faulty logic.
“It wasn’t a fair vote,” I declared. “It wasn’t legal.”
“Are you a lawyer now, Miss Hathaway?” The queen was amused, and her dropping of my guardian title now was a blatant lack of respect. “If you’re referring to the monarch’s vote carrying more weight than others on the Council, then we can assure you that that has been Moroi law for centuries in such situations.” She glanced at her fellow Council members, none of whom raised a protest. Even those who’d voted against her couldn’t find fault with her point.
“Yeah, but the entire Council didn’t vote,” I said. “You’ve had an empty spot in the Council for the last few years—but not anymore.” I turned and pointed at where my friends were sitting. “Vasilisa Dragomir is eighteen now and can fill her family’s spot.” In all of this chaos, her birthday had been overlooked, even by me.
The eyes in the room turned on Lissa—something she did
not
like. However, Lissa was used to being in the public eye. She knew what was expected of a royal, how to look and carry herself. So, rather than cringing, she sat up straight and stared ahead with a cool, regal look that said she could walk up to that table right now and demand her birthright. Whether it was that magnificent attitude alone or maybe a little spirit charisma, she was almost impossible to look away from. Her beauty had its usual luminous quality, and around the room, a lot of the faces held the same awe for her that I’d observed around Court. Dimitri’s transformation was still an enigma, but those who believed in it were indeed regarding her as some kind of saint. She was becoming larger than life in so many people’s eyes, both with her family name and mysterious powers—and now the alleged ability to restore Strigoi.
Smug, I looked back at Tatiana. “Isn’t eighteen the legal voting age?”
Checkmate, bitch
.
“Yes,” she said cheerfully. “If the Dragomirs had a quorum.”
I wouldn’t say my stunning victory exactly shattered at that point, but it certainly lost a little of its luster. “A what?”
“A quorum. By law, for a Moroi family to have a Council vote, they must have a family. She does not. She’s the only one.”
I stared in disbelief. “What, you’re saying she needs to go have a kid to get a vote?”
Tatiana grimaced. “Not now, of course. Someday, I’m sure. For a family to have a vote, they must have at least two members, one of whom must be over eighteen. It’s Moroi law—again, a law that’s been in the books for centuries.”
A few people were exchanging confused and surprised looks. This was clearly not a law many were familiar with. Of course, this situation—a royal line reduced to one person—wasn’t one that had occurred in recent history, if it had ever occurred at all.
“It’s true,” said Ariana Szelsky reluctantly. “I’ve read it.”
Okay,
that
was when my stunning victory shattered. The Szelsky family was one I trusted, and Ariana was the older sister of the guy my mom protected. Ariana was a pretty bookish kind of person, and seeing as she’d voted against the guardian age change, it seemed unlikely she’d offer this piece of evidence if it weren’t true.
With no more ammunition, I resorted to old standbys.
“That,” I told Tatiana, “is the most fucked-up law I have ever heard.”
That did it. The audience broke into shocked chatter, and Tatiana gave up on whatever pretense of friendliness she’d been clinging to. She beat the herald to any orders he might have given.
“Remove her!” shouted Tatiana. Even with the rapidly growing noise, her voice rang clearly through the room. “We will not tolerate this sort of vulgar behavior!”
I had guardians on me in a flash. Honestly, with how often I’d been dragged away from places lately, there was almost something comfortably familiar about it. I didn’t fight the guardians as they led me to the door, but I also didn’t let them take me without a few parting words.
“You could change the quorum law if you wanted, you sanctimonious bitch!” I yelled back. “You’re twisting the law because you’re selfish and afraid! You’re making the worst mistake of your life. You’ll regret it! Wait and see—you’ll wish you’d never done it!”
I don’t know if anyone heard my tirade because by then, the hall was back to the chaos it had been in when I entered. The guardians—three of them—didn’t let go of me until we were outside. Once they released me, we all stood around awkwardly for a moment.
“What now?” I asked. I tried to keep the anger out of my voice. I was still furious and worked up, but it wasn’t these guys’ fault. “Are you going to lock me up?” Seeing as it would bring me back to Dimitri, it would almost be a reward.
“They only said to remove you,” one of the guardians pointed out. “No one said what to do with you after that.”
Another guardian, old and grizzled but still fierce looking, gave me a wry look. “I’d take off while you can, before they really have a chance to punish you.”
“Not that they won’t find you if they really want to,” added the first guardian.
With that, the three of them headed back inside, leaving me confused and upset. My body was still revved for a fight, and I was filled with the frustration I always experienced whenever I was faced with a situation I felt powerless in. All that yelling for nothing. I’d accomplished nothing.
“Rose?”
I shifted from my churning emotions and looked up at the building. The older guardian hadn’t gone inside and still stood in the doorway. His face was stoic, but I thought I saw a twinkle in his eye. “For what it’s worth,” he told me, “I thought you were fantastic in there.”
I didn’t feel much like smiling, but my lips betrayed me. “Thanks,” I said.
Well, maybe I’d accomplished one thing.
TWENTY-TWO
I
DIDN’T TAKE THE GUY’S advice and tear off out of there, though I didn’t exactly sit on the front step either. I lingered nearby in a cluster of cherry trees, figuring it would only be a matter of time before the assembly ended and people spilled out the doors. After several minutes passed and nothing happened, I flipped into Lissa’s mind and discovered things were still in full force. Despite Tatiana declaring twice now that the session was over, people were still standing around and arguing in groups.
Tasha was standing in one such group with Lissa and Adrian, making one of the impassioned speeches she was so good at. Tasha might not be as coldly calculating as Tatiana was when it came to political moves, but Tasha did have a keen sense of ripples in the system and recognized opportunities when they came. She was against the age-lowering decree. She was for teaching Moroi to fight. Neither of those was getting her very far, so she jumped on the next best thing: Lissa.
“Why are we arguing among ourselves about how best to kill Strigoi when we can save them?” Tasha put one arm around Lissa and one around Adrian, drawing them both forward. Lissa still wore her serenely confident look, but Adrian looked ready to bolt if given half a chance. “Vasilisa—who, by the way, is indeed being denied her fair voice here, thanks to an archaic law—has shown that Strigoi can be brought back.”
“That hasn’t been proven,” exclaimed one man in the crowd.
“Are you kidding?” asked a woman beside him. “My sister was with the group that brought him back. She says he’s definitely a dhampir. He was even out in the sun!”