Shadow Kiss (15 page)

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Authors: Richelle Mead

Tags: #Social Issues, #Dating & Sex, #Magic, #Social Science, #Horror, #Fantasy & Magic, #Fiction, #Horror & Ghost Stories, #Love & Romance, #High schools, #Schools, #Social Classes, #Friendship, #Juvenile Fiction, #Vampires

BOOK: Shadow Kiss
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"Where's it at?" Dimitri asked me. "The pain?" With all of this attention, my explosion suddenly seemed excessive. "It's a headache…I'm sure it'll go away…" Seeing his stern look, I pointed to the center of my forehead. "It's like something pushing on my skull. And there's pain kind of behind my eyes. I keep feeling like…well, it's like I've got something in my eye. I think I'm seeing a shadow or something. Then I blink and it's gone."

"Ah," said Alberta. "That's a migraine symptom—having vision problems. It's called an aura.

People sometimes get it before the headache sets in."

"An aura?" I asked, startled. I glanced up at Adrian. He was looking at me over the top of his seat, his long arms hanging over the back of it.

"Not that kind," he said, a small smile turning up his lips. "Same name. Like Court and court.

Migraine auras are images and light you see when a migraine's coming on. They have nothing to do with the auras around people I see. But I tell you … the aura I can see … the one around you … wow."

"Black?"

"And then some. It's obvious even after all the drinks I've had. Never seen anything like it."

I didn't exactly know what to make of that, but then the flight attendant returned with a banana, a granola bar, and some ibuprofen. It was a far cry from French toast, but it sounded good on my empty stomach. I consumed it all and then propped a pillow up against the window. Closing my eyes, I rested my head and hoped I could sleep the headache off before we landed.

Mercifully, everyone else stayed quiet.

I had drifted off a little when I felt a slight touch on my arm. "Rose?"

Opening my eyes, I peered at Lissa as she sat in Eddie's seat. Those bat-winged shapes flitted behind her, and my head still hurt. In those swirling shadows, I again saw what looked like a face, this time with a wide gaping mouth and eyes like fire. I flinched.

"You're still in pain?" Lissa asked, peering at me. I blinked, and the face was gone.

"Yeah, I—oh no." I realized what she was going to do. "Don't do it. Don't waste it on me."

"It's easy," she said. "It hardly fazes me."

"Yeah, but the more you use it… the more it hurts you in the long run. Even if it's easy now."

"I'll worry about that later. Here."

She clasped my hand between hers and closed her eyes. Through our bond, I felt the magic welling up in her as she drew upon spirit's healing power. To her, magic felt warm and golden.

I'd been healed before, and it always came through to me as varying temperatures: hot, then cold, then hot, etc. But this time, when she released the magic and sent it into me, I didn't feel anything except a very faint tingle. Her eyelids fluttered open.

"Wh—what happened?" she asked.

"Nothing," I said. "The headache's still going strong."

"But I…" The confusion and shock on her face mirrored what I sensed in her. "I had it. I felt the magic. It worked."

"I don't know, Liss. It's okay, really. You haven't been off the meds that long, you know."

"Yeah, but I healed Eddie the other day without any problems.
And
Adrian," she added dryly.

He was hanging over the seat again, watching us intently.

"Those were scrapes," I said. "This is a five-alarm migraine we're talking about. Maybe you've got to build back up."

Lissa bit her lower lip. "You don't think the pills permanently hurt my magic, do you?"

"Nah," said Adrian, head tilted to the side. "You lit up like a supernova when you were summoning it. You had magic. I just don't think it had any effect on her."

"Why not?" she demanded.

"Maybe she's got something you can't heal."

"A
headache?" I asked in disbelief.

He shrugged. "What do I look like, a doctor? I don't know. Just telling you what I saw."

I sighed and placed a hand on my forehead. "Well, I appreciate the help, Liss, and I appreciate your annoying commentary, Adrian. But I think sleep might be the best thing for now. Maybe it's stress or something." Sure, why not? Stress was the answer to everything lately. Ghosts.

Incurable headaches. Weird faces floating in the air. "Probably can't heal that."

"Maybe," she said, sounding as though she took personal offense at me having something she couldn't fix. Inside her mind, though, her accusations were turned toward herself, not me. She worried she wasn't good enough.

"It's okay," I said soothingly. "You're just getting your stride back. Once you're up to full power, I'll go crack a rib or something so we can test it."

She groaned. "The horrible part is that I don't think you're joking." After a quick squeeze of my hand, she stood up. "Sleep well."

She left, and I soon realized Eddie wasn't coming back. He'd taken a new seat so that I'd have more room. Appreciative, I fluffed and repositioned the pillow while stretching my legs out as best I could across the seats. A few more phantom clouds danced across my vision, and then I closed my eyes to sleep.

I woke up later when the plane touched down, the sounds of its engines kicking into reverse startling me out of a deep sleep. To my relief, the headache was gone. So were the weird shapes floating around me.

"Better?" Lissa asked when I stood up and yawned.

I nodded. "Much. Better still if I can get some real food."

"Well," she laughed, "somehow I doubt there's any shortage of food around here."

She was right. Glancing out the windows, I tried to get my first look at our surroundings. We'd made it. We were at the Moroi Royal Court.

Eleven

WE STEPPED OFF THE plane and were immediately hit with wet, blustery weather. Sleet cracked into us, far worse than the flaky white stuff falling back in Montana. We were on the East Coast now, or well, close to it. The queen's court was in Pennsylvania, near the Pocono Mountains, a range I had only a vague idea about. I knew we weren't too close to any major cities, like Philadelphia or Pittsburgh, which were the only ones I knew in the state.

The runway we'd landed on was part of the Court's property, so we were already behind wards.

It was just like the Academy's small landing strip. In fact, in many ways, the Royal Court was laid out exactly like the school. It was what they told humans the compound was, actually. The Court was a collection of buildings, beautiful and ornate, spreading across well-tended grounds adorned with trees and flowers. At least, the land would be adorned with them when spring came. Just like in Montana, the vegetation was bleak and leafless.

We were met by a group of five guardians, all dressed in black pants and matching coats, with white shirts underneath. They weren't uniforms exactly, but custom usually dictated that for formal occasions, guardians wear some sort of nice ensemble. By comparison, in our jeans and T-shirts, our group looked like somebody's poor relations. Yet I couldn't help but think we'd be a lot more comfortable if it came to a fight with Strigoi.

The guardians knew Alberta and Dimitri—honestly, those two knew
everybody
—and after some formalities, everyone relaxed and became friendly. We were all eager to get in out of the cold, and our escorts led us toward the buildings. I knew enough about the Court to know that the largest and most elaborate of the buildings was where all official Moroi business was conducted. It resembled some sort of gothic palace on the outside, but inside, I suspected it probably looked like any set of modern government offices you'd find among humans.

We weren't taken there, however. We were led to an adjacent building, just as exquisite on the outside, but half the size. One of the guardians explained that this was where all guests and dignitaries traveling in and out of the Court stayed. To my surprise, we each got our own room.

Eddie started to protest this, adamantly saying he needed to stay with Lissa. Dimitri smiled and told him it wasn't necessary. In a place like this, guardians didn't need to stay as close to their Moroi. In fact, they often separated to do their own things. The Court was as heavily warded as the Academy. And really, Moroi visitors at the Academy were rarely trailed so closely by their guardians either. It was only for the sake of the field experience that it was being done with us.

Eddie agreed with some reluctance, and again, I was amazed at his dedication.

Alberta spoke briefly and then turned to the rest of us. "Decompress for a bit and be ready for dinner in four hours. Lissa, the queen wants to see you in an hour."

A jolt of surprise ran through Lissa, and she and I exchanged brief, puzzled looks. The last time Lissa had seen the queen, Tatiana had snubbed her and embarrassed her in front of the school for having running away with me. Both of us wondered what she'd want to see Lissa about now.

"Sure," said Lissa. "Rose and I'll be ready."

Alberta shook her head. "Rose isn't going. The queen specifically asked for you alone."

Of course she had. What interest would the queen have in Vasilisa Dragomir's shadow? A nasty voice whispered in my head,
Expendable, expendable….

The dark sentiment startled me, and I shoved it aside. I went to my room, relieved to see it had a TV. The thought of vegging for the next four hours sounded fantastic. The rest of the room was pretty fancy, very modern looking, with sleek black tables and white leather furniture. I was kind of afraid to sit on it. Ironically, despite how nice it all was, the place wasn't as decked out as the ski resort that we'd stay in over the holidays. I guessed when you came to the Royal Court, you came for business, not a vacation.

I had just sprawled on the leather couch and turned on the TV when I felt Lissa in my mind.

Come talk,
she said. I sat up, surprised by the message itself and the content. Usually our bond was all about feelings and impressions. Specific requests like this were rare.

I got up and left the room, going to the one next door. Lissa opened the door.

"What, you couldn't have come to me?" I asked.

"Sorry," she said, looking like she genuinely meant it. It was hard to be grouchy around someone so nice. "I just didn't have the time. I'm trying to decide what to wear."

Her suitcase was already open on the bed, with things hung up in the closet. Unlike me, she'd come prepared for every occasion, formal and casual alike. I lay down on the couch. Hers was plush velvet, not leather.

"Wear the print blouse with the black slacks," I told her. "Not a dress."

"Why not a dress?"

"Because you don't want to look like you're groveling."

"This is the queen, Rose. Dressing up is showing respect, not groveling."

"If you say so."

But Lissa wore the outfit I suggested anyway. She talked to me as she finished getting ready, and I watched with envy as she applied makeup. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed cosmetics myself. When she and I had lived with humans, I'd been pretty diligent about primping every day. Now, there never seemed to be enough time—or any reason. I was always in some kind of scuffle that made makeup pointless and ruined it anyway. The most I could do was to slather my face with moisturizer. It seemed excessive in the mornings—like I was putting on a mask—yet by the time I faced the cold weather and other harsh conditions, I was always surprised to see my skin had sucked all the moisture up.

The smallest pang of regret shot through me that I'd rarely have any opportunities to do this for the rest of my life. Lissa would spend most of her days dressed up, out at royal functions. No one would notice me. It was weird, considering that until this last year, I'd always been the one who was always noticed.

"Why do you think she wants to see me?" Lissa asked.

"Maybe to explain why we're here."

"Maybe."

Unease filled Lissa, despite her calm exterior. She still hadn't entirely recovered from the queen's brutal humiliation last fall. My own petty jealousy and moping suddenly seemed stupid when compared with what she had to go through. I mentally slapped myself, reminding myself that I wasn't just her unseen guardian. I was also her best friend, and we hadn't talked very much lately.

"You have nothing to be afraid of, Liss. You haven't done anything wrong. And really, you've been doing everything right. Your grades are perfect. Your behavior's perfect. Remember all those people you impressed on the ski trip? That bitch has nothing to get on you about."

"You shouldn't say that," said Lissa automatically. She applied mascara to her eyelashes, studied them, and then added another coat.

"Just call 'em like I see 'em. If she gives you any grief, then it's just going to be because she's afraid of you."

Lissa laughed. "Why would she be afraid of me?"

"Because people are drawn to you, and people like her don't like it when others steal all the attention." I was a bit astonished at how wise I sounded. "Plus, you're the last Dragomir. You're always going to be in the spotlight. Who's she? Just another Ivashkov. There are a ton of them.

Probably because all the guys are like Adrian and have all sorts of illegitimate children."

"Adrian doesn't have any children."

"That we know of," I said mysteriously.

She snickered and stepped back from the mirror, pleased with her face. "Why are you always so mean to Adrian?"

I gave her a look of mock astonishment. "You're standing up for Adrian now? Whatever happened to you warning me to stay away from him? You practically bit my head off the first time I hung out with him—and that wasn't even by my choice."

She took a thin golden chain out of her suitcase and tried to fasten it around her neck. "Well, yeah … I didn't really know him then. He's not so bad. And it's true I mean, he's not a great role model or anything, but I also think some of those stories about him and other girls are exaggerated."

"I don't," I said, jumping up. She still hadn't managed to fasten the chain, so I took it and put the clasp together for her.

"Thanks," she said, running her hands over the necklace. "I think Adrian really likes you. Like, in a wanting-to-be-serious way."

I shook my head and stepped back. "Nope. He likes me in a wanting-to-get-the-clothes-off-the-cute-dhampir way."

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