The school still couldn’t get over that. She didn’t care. She laughed it off, ignoring the shocked looks and disdain from the royals who couldn’t believe she’d date someone from a humiliated family. Not all of them felt that way, though. Some who had gotten to know her during her brief social whirlwind actually liked her for
her
, no compulsion necessary. They liked her honesty and openness, preferring it to the games most royals played.
A lot of royals ignored her, of course, and talked viciously about her behind her back. Most surprising of all, Mia—despite being utterly humiliated—managed to wiggle back into the good graces of a couple of these royals. It proved my point. She wouldn’t stay down for long. And, in fact, I saw the first signs of her revenge lurking again when I walked past her one day on the way to class. She stood with a few other people and spoke loudly, clearly wanting me to hear.
“—perfect match. Both of them are from
completely
disgraced and rejected families.”
I clenched my teeth and kept walking, following her gaze to where Lissa and Christian stood. They were lost in their own world and formed a gorgeous picture, she blond and fair and he blue-eyed and black-haired. I couldn’t help but stare too. Mia was right. Both of their families were disgraced. Tatiana had publicly denounced Lissa, and while no one “blamed” the Ozeras for what had happened to Christian’s parents, the rest of the royal Moroi families continued to keep their distance.
But Mia had been right about the other part too. In some ways, Lissa and Christian were perfect for each other. Maybe they were outcasts, but the Dragomirs and Ozeras had once been among the most powerful Moroi leaders. And in only a very short time, Lissa and Christian had started shaping one another in ways that could put them right up there with their ancestors. He was picking up some of her polish and social poise; she was learning to stand up for her passions. The more I watched them, the more I could see an energy and confidence radiating around them.
They weren’t going to stay down either.
And I think that, along with Lissa’s kindness, may have been what attracted people to her. Our social circle began to steadily grow. Mason joined, of course, and made no secret of his interest in me. Lissa teased me a lot about that, and I didn’t yet know what to do about him. Part of me thought maybe it was time to give him a shot as a serious boyfriend, even though the rest of me yearned for Dimitri.
For the most part, Dimitri treated me just like anyone would expect of a mentor. He was efficient. Fond. Strict. Understanding. There was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that would make anyone suspect what had passed between us—save for an occasional meeting of our eyes. And once I overcame my initial emotional reaction, I knew he was—technically—right about us. Age was a problem, yes, particularly while I was still a student at the Academy. But the other thing he’d mentioned . . . it had never entered my mind. It should have. Two guardians in a relationship could distract each other from the Moroi they were supposed to protect. We couldn’t allow that to happen, couldn’t risk her life for our own wants. Otherwise, we’d be no better than the Badica guardian who’d run off. I’d told Dimitri once that my own feelings didn’t matter. She came first.
I just hoped I could prove it.
“It’s too bad about the healing,” Lissa told me.
“Hmm?” We sat in her room, pretending to study, but my mind was off thinking about Dimitri. I’d lectured her about keeping secrets, but I hadn’t told her about him or about how close I’d come to losing my virginity. For some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to tell.
She dropped the history book she’d been holding. “That I had to give up the healing. And the compulsion.” A frown crossed her face at that last part. The healing had been regarded as a wondrous gift in need of further study; the compulsion had met with serious reprimands from Kirova and Ms. Carmack. “I mean, I’m happy now. I should have gotten help a long time ago—you were right about that. I’m glad I’m on the medication. But Victor was right too. I can’t use spirit anymore. I can still sense it, though. . . . I miss being able to touch it.”
I didn’t entirely know what to say. I liked her better like this. Losing that threat of madness had made her whole again, confident and outgoing, just like the Lissa I’d always known and loved. Seeing her now, it was easy to believe what Victor had said about her becoming a leader. She reminded me of her parents and of Andre—how they used to inspire devotion in those who knew them.
“And that’s another thing,” she continued. “He said I couldn’t give it up. He was right. It hurts, not having the magic. I want it so badly sometimes.”
“I know,” I said. I could feel that ache within her. The pills had dulled her magic, but not our bond.
“And I keep thinking about all the things I could do, all the people I could help.” She looked regretful.
“You have to help yourself first,” I told her fiercely. “I don’t want you getting hurt again. I won’t let you.”
“I know. Christian says the same thing.” She got that dopey smile she always did when she thought about him. If I’d known what idiots being in love would make them, I might not have been so keen to get them back together. “And I guess you guys are right. Better to want the magic and be sane than to have it and be a lunatic. There’s no middle ground.”
“No,” I agreed. “Not with this.”
Then, out of nowhere, a thought smacked me in the head. There
was
a middle ground. Natalie’s words reminded me of it.
It’s worth it, worth giving up the sun and the magic.
The magic.
Ms. Karp hadn’t become Strigoi simply because she’d gone crazy. She’d become Strigoi to stay sane. Becoming Strigoi cut a person completely off from magic. In doing that, she couldn’t use it. She couldn’t feel it. She wouldn’t want it anymore. Staring at Lissa, I felt a knot of worry coil within me. What if she figured that out? Would she want to do it too? No, I quickly decided. Lissa would never do that. She was too strong a person, too moral. And so long as she stayed on the pills, her higher reasoning would keep her from doing something so drastic.
Still, the whole concept prodded me to find out one last thing. The following morning, I went to the chapel and waited in one of the pews until the priest showed up.
“Hello, Rosemarie,” he said, clearly surprised. “Can I help you with something?”
I stood up. “I need to know more about St. Vladimir. I read that book you gave me and a couple others.” Best not to tell him about stealing the ones in the attic. “But nobody told how he died. What happened? How did his life end? Was he, like, martyred?”
The priest’s bushy eyebrows rose. “No. He died of old age. Peacefully.”
“You’re sure? He didn’t become Strigoi or kill himself?”
“No, of course not. Why would you think that?”
“Well . . . he was holy and everything, but he was also kind of crazy, right? I read about it. I thought he might have, I don’t know, given into that.”
His face was serious. “It’s true he fought demons—insanity—his whole life. It was a struggle, and he did want to die sometimes. But he overcame it. He didn’t let it defeat him.”
I stared in wonder. Vladimir wouldn’t have had pills, and he’d clearly continued to use magic.
“How? How did he do that?”
“Willpower, I guess. Well . . .” He paused. “That and Anna.”
“Shadow-kissed Anna,” I murmured. “His guardian.”
The priest nodded. “She stayed with him. When he grew weak, she was the one who held him up. She urged him to stay strong and to never give in to his madness.”
I left the chapel in a daze. Anna had done it. Anna had let Vladimir walk that middle ground, helping him to work miracles in the world without meeting a horrible end. Ms. Karp hadn’t been as lucky. She hadn’t had a bound guardian. She hadn’t had anyone to hold her up.
Lissa
did
.
Smiling, I cut across the quadrangle toward the commons. I felt better about life than I had in a very long time. We could do this, Lissa and me. We could do it together.
Just then, I saw a dark figure out of the corner of my eye. It swooped past me and landed on a nearby tree. I stopped walking. It was a raven, large and fierce-looking, with shining black feathers.
A moment later, I realized it wasn’t just
a
raven; it was
the
raven. The one Lissa had healed. No other bird would land so close to a dhampir. And no other bird would be looking at me in such an intelligent, familiar way. I couldn’t believe he was still around. A chill ran down my spine, and I started to back up. Then the truth hit me.
“You’re bound to her too, aren’t you?” I asked, fully aware that anyone who saw me would think I was crazy. “She brought you back. You’re shadow-kissed.”
That was actually pretty cool. I held out my arm to it, half hoping it’d come land on me in some sort of dramatic, movie-worthy gesture. All it did was look at me like I was an idiot, spread its wings, and fly off.
I glared as it flew off into the twilight. Then I turned around and headed off to find Lissa. From far away, I heard the sound of cawing, almost like laughter.
Table of Contents
Frostbite
RAZORBILL
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For Kat Richardson, who is very wise.
PROLOGUE
T
HINGS DIE. BUT THEY DON’T always stay dead. Believe me, I know.
There’s a race of vampires on this earth who are literally the walking dead. They’re called Strigoi, and if you’re not already having nightmares about them, you should be. They’re strong, they’re fast, and they kill without mercy or hesitation. They’re immortal, too—which kind of makes them a bitch to destroy. There are only three ways to do it: a silver stake through the heart, decapitation, and setting them on fire. None of those is easy to pull off, but it’s better than having no options at all.