"Only two of you? There are four up there."
I saved us on that one. "They want more back at Court. Things are getting out of hand, so just two are being assigned here now."
"Probably all we need up there," agreed the guardian. "Third floor."
"Quick thinking," Mikhail told me in the elevator.
"That was nothing. I've talked myself out of much worse."
The rooms were easy to spot because a guardian stood outside them.
The rest are inside
, I realized, wondering if that would be a problem. But, with that same authoritative attitude, Mikhail told the guy that he and the others had been recalled to Court. The guardian summoned his colleagues—one from each Alchemist's rooms, though we couldn't tell whose was whose—and they gave us a brief status report before leaving, including who was in which room.
When they were gone, Mikhail looked to me. "Sydney," I said.
We'd been given key cards and walked right into Sydney's room. She sat cross-legged on her bed, reading a book and looking miserable. She sighed when she saw us.
"Well, what is it now?"
I took off the bracelet, letting my illusion vanish.
There was no jaw dropping or raised eyebrows from Sydney. Just a knowing look. "I should have guessed. Are you here to free me?" There was a hopeful note in her voice.
"Um, not exactly." I hated that Sydney was going to get punished, but smuggling her out wasn't part of the plan now. "We need to talk to Ian, and it's probably best if you're there. He knows something important. Something we need."
That got the raised eyebrow. She pointed at the door. "They won't let us talk to each other."
"They aren't out there," I said smugly.
Sydney shook her head ruefully. "Rose, you really do scare me sometimes. Just not for the reasons I originally thought you would. Come on. He's next door, but you'll have a hard time getting him to talk."
"That's where you'll help," I said, as we walked into the hall. I slipped the bracelet back on. "He's totally into you. He'll help if you ask."
As I'd guessed, Sydney was completely oblivious to Ian's crush. "What! He does not—"
She shut her mouth as we entered Ian's room. He was watching TV but jumped up when he saw us. "Sydney! Are you okay?"
I shot her a meaningful look.
She gave me a pained one in return and then turned her attention back to Ian. "They need your help with something. Some information."
He turned his gaze on us, and it immediately went colder. "We answered your questions a hundred times."
"Not all of them," I said. "When you were at Court, you saw a picture on the table. Of a dead man. Who was it?"
Ian's lips went into a straight line. "I don't know."
"I saw—er, that is, we know you recognized him," I argued. "You reacted."
"I actually saw that too," admitted Sydney.
His tone turned pleading. "Come
on
, we don't need to help them anymore. This whole hotel-prison thing is bad enough. I'm sick of their games."
I didn't blame him, really, but we needed him too much. I glanced at Sydney beseechingly, telling her that only she could get us through this.
She turned back to Ian. "What's the deal with the guy in the picture? Is it . . . is it really horrible? Something secret?"
He shrugged. "No. I just don't want to help them anymore. It's irrelevant."
"Will you do it for me?" she asked sweetly. "Please? It might help me get out of trouble." Sydney was no master of flirting, but I think just the fact she came close to it astonished him. He hesitated for several moments, glanced at us and then back to her. She smiled at him.
Ian caved. "I meant what I said. I don't know who he is. He was with a Moroi woman over in the St. Louis facility one day."
"Wait," I said, derailed. "Moroi come to your places?"
"Sometimes," said Sydney. "Just like we came to yours. Some meetings happen in person. We don't usually hold your people prisoner, though."
"I think this guy was like her bodyguard or something," Ian said. "She was the one there on business. He just followed and stayed quiet."
"A Moroi bodyguard?"
"Not uncommon for those that can't get guardians," said Mikhail. "Abe Mazur is proof of that. He's got his own army."
"I think of them more as a mafia." My joke aside, I was getting confused. Despite the widespread disdain about learning to fight, sometimes Moroi did have to hire Moroi security because they just couldn't obtain a guardian. Someone like Daniella Ivashkov wouldn't have that problem. In fact, I was pretty sure she'd be entitled to two guardians if she stepped outside protective borders—and she'd made it clear she didn't think Moroi should fight. Why would she travel with Moroi protection when she could have better trained guardians? It made no sense. Still . . . if you'd killed a queen, you probably did all sorts of unorthodox things. They didn't have to make sense. "Who was she?" I asked. "The woman?"
"I didn't know her either," said Ian. "I just passed them while they were on their way to something. A meeting, maybe."
"Do you remember what she looked like?" Something. We needed
something
. This was on the verge of falling apart, but if Ian could identify Daniella, we might just be set.
"Sure," he said. "She's easy to remember."
The ensuing silence irritated me. "So?" I asked. "What did she look like?"
He told me.
The description was not what I had expected.
THIRTY-TWO
S
YDNEY AND HER FRIENDS weren't happy that we weren't going to take them with us.
"I would," I told her, still reeling from what I'd learned from Ian. "But getting us in and out has been hard enough! If we step outside with you, we'll all be busted. Besides, soon it won't matter. Once we tell everyone at Court what we know and clear my name, the guardians won't need you anymore."
"It's not the guardians I'm worried about," she replied. She used that blasé tone of hers, but I could see a glint of legitimate fear in her eyes—and I wondered who she was referring to. The Alchemists? Or someone else?
"Sydney," I said hesitantly, despite knowing Mikhail and I needed to get out of there. "What did Abe really do for you? There has to be more than just the transfer."
Sydney gave me a small, sad smile. "It doesn't matter, Rose. I'll deal with whatever comes. Just go now, okay? Go help your friends."
I wanted to say more . . . to find out more. But Mikhail's expression told me he agreed with her, and so, with brief farewells, he and I left. When we got back to where the others were waiting in the parking lot, I saw the situation hadn't changed much. Dimitri was pacing, no doubt restless at being out of the action. Jill still stood near Sonya, as though seeking protection from the older woman, and Adrian stayed away from all of them, barely sparing a glance when Mikhail's car pulled up.
When we told the group what we'd learned, however,
that
got a reaction from Adrian.
"Impossible. I can't believe that." He stamped out a cigarette. "Your Alchemist pals are wrong."
I could hardly believe it either, yet I had no reason to think Ian would lie. And honestly, if Adrian was having a hard time with this, there was no telling what he would have thought if we'd told him who our previous suspect was. I stared off into the night, trying to come to terms with who had murdered Tatiana and framed me. It was hard even for me to believe. Betrayal was harsh.
"The motives are there . . ." I said reluctantly. Once Ian had described whom he'd seen, a dozen reasons for the murder clicked into place. "And they
are
political. Ambrose was right."
"Ian's ID is hard evidence," said Dimitri, as shocked as the rest of us. "But there are a lot of other holes, a lot of pieces that don't fit into it."
"Yeah." One in particular had been bothering me. "Like why
I
was set up for the fall."
No one had an answer for that. "We need to get back to Court," Mikhail said at last. "Or I'm going to be missed."
I cast Jill what I hoped was an encouraging smile. "And you've got to make your debut."
"I don't know which is crazier," said Adrian. "The killer's identity or Jailbait being a Dragomir." His words to me were cold, but the look he gave her was gentle. Crazy as the news was, Adrian hadn't had that hard of a time believing Jill's parentage. He was jaded enough to believe in Eric's infidelity, and those telltale eyes sealed the deal. I think hearing what Ian had told us was hurting Adrian more than he was letting on. Finding out the person responsible for his aunt's murder was someone he knew had to intensify the pain. Finding out about me and Dimitri couldn't help matters either.
Much to Mikhail's dismay, Sonya offered to stay behind while the rest of us went to Court. We couldn't bring both cars, and his only held five. She considered herself the least useful in this endeavor. With much hugging, kissing, and tears, she promised Mikhail they'd see each other again, once this mess was sorted out. I hoped she was right.
My charm would obscure my face enough to get me through the gate. But Jill was a trickier problem. Her kidnapping was hot Moroi news, and if she was recognized by any of the gate guardians, we would be stopped then and there. We were gambling that the guards would be too harried to notice her like they would Dimitri and me. That meant Dimitri took priority for disguising—requiring Adrian's help. Adrian wasn't quite as adept with illusion as Sonya was, but he understood enough of it to make Dimitri's appearance altered to the eyes of others. It was similar to how he'd used spirit during my jail escape. The question was whether or not Adrian would actually do it for us. He hadn't said a word to anyone about what he'd seen between me and Dimitri, but others must have felt the sudden rise in tension.
"We have to help Lissa," I told him, when he didn't respond to the request. "Time's running out. Please. Please help us." I wasn't above groveling, if that was what he needed.
Fortunately, it wasn't. Adrian took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a brief moment. I was certain he wished he had something stronger than cigarettes. At last, he nodded. "Let's go."
We left Sonya with the keys to the second car, and she stood there with shining eyes, watching as we drove off. Dimitri, Mikhail, and I spent most of the journey analyzing the our data collection. The woman Ian had described couldn't have done everything we'd been pinning on the murderer.
I was sitting in the backseat with Adrian and Jill, leaning forward and checking things off on my fingers. "Motive? Yes. Ability? Yes. Paying off Joe? Yes. Access to Tatiana's chambers . . ." I frowned, suddenly thinking of what I'd overheard while with Lissa. "Yes."
This earned me a surprised glance from Dimitri. "Really? That was one piece I couldn't figure out."
"Pretty sure I know how she did it," I said. "But the anonymous letter to Tatiana doesn't make sense. Not to mention obscuring Lissa's family—or trying to kill her."
Or trying to frame me
.
"We might be dealing with more than one person," said Dimitri.
"Like a conspiracy?" I asked, startled.
He shook his head. "No, I mean,
someone
else had a grudge against the queen. But not someone who'd go as far as to kill her. Two people, two agendas. Probably not even aware of each other. We're mixing up the evidence."
I fell silent, turning over his words. It made sense, and I picked up on the nuance that by
someone
, he meant Daniella. We'd been right about reasons she'd dislike Tatiana—the trainings, the age law not being hardcore enough, encouraging spirit . . . But that hadn't been enough for murder. An angry letter, bribery for her son's safety? Those were the kinds of actions Lady Daniella Ivashkov took. Not staking.
In the ensuing silence, I heard soft words between Jill and Adrian, who'd been having a conversation while the rest of us plotted strategy.
"What do I do?" Jill asked him in a small voice.
His answer was swift and sure. "Act like you deserve to be there. Don't let them intimidate you."
"What about Lissa? What's she going to think of me?"
Adrian hesitated only a moment. "Doesn't matter. Just act the way I told you."
My stomach sank, listening to him give her such earnest, kind advice. Rowdy, smug, and flippant . . . he was all those things. But his heart was good. The heart I'd just broken. I knew I was right about his potential. Adrian was great. He could do great things. I just hoped I hadn't set him back. At least I hadn't had to tell him his mother was a murderer . . . but still.
All of us grew quiet when we reached the gate. The line of cars was still there, and we became more and more nervous as we crept forward. A flip to Lissa's mind told me we weren't missing anything in the Council. The chaotic situation was pretty much the same as before, though the exasperated look on Nathan's face made me think he'd call a close to proceedings soon and continue tomorrow. I wasn't sure if that was good or bad.
The guardians recognized Mikhail, of course, and while still vigilant, their initial instincts didn't suspect him of nefarious deeds. He vaguely said he'd been sent to pick up some people. The guardian looking in the car scanned over Dimitri, me, and—thankfully—Jill. Adrian, a well-known figure, got us added respect. After a mandatory check of the trunk, we were sent on through.
"Oh my God. It worked," I breathed, as Mikhail drove over to the guardians' parking area.
"Now what?" asked Jill.
"Now we reestablish the Dragomir line and call out a murderer," I said.
"Oh, is that all?" Adrian's sarcasm was palpable.
"You know," remarked Mikhail, "that the instant your illusions are dropped, you two are going to be jumped by guardians and thrown back into jail. Or worse."