The Golden Lily (15 page)

“Brayden.”

“Does that Brayden guy make you happy?” I looked at Adrian in surprise. These kinds of questions were almost always a setup from him, but his neutral face made it hard to guess his motives this time.

“I guess,” I said at last. “Yeah. I mean, he doesn’t make me unhappy.”

That brought Adrian’s smile back. “Red-hot answer if ever there was one. What do you like about him? Aside from the car?

And that he smels like coffee?”

“I like that he’s smart,” I said. “I like that I don’t have to dumb myself down around him.” Now Adrian frowned. “You do that a lot for people?” I was surprised at the bitterness in my own laugh. “‘A lot?’

Try all the time. Probably the most important thing I’ve learned at Amberwood is that people don’t like to know how much you know. With Brayden, there’s no Try all the time. Probably the most important thing I’ve learned at Amberwood is that people don’t like to know how much you know. With Brayden, there’s no censoring for either of us. I mean, just look at this morning. One minute we were talking Haloween costumes, the next we were discussing the ancient Athenian origins of democracy.”

“I’m not going to claim to be a genius, but how the hell did you make that leap?”

“Oh,” I said. “Our Haloween costumes. We’re dressing Greek. From the Athenian era.”

“Of course,” he said. And this time, I could tell the snark was about to return. “No sexy cat costumes for you. Only the most dignified, feminist attire will do.” I shook my head. “Feminist? Oh, no. Not Athenian women.

They’re about as far from feminist as you can—wel, forget it.

It’s not realy important.”

Adrian did a double take. “That’s it, isn’t it?” He leaned Adrian did a double take. “That’s it, isn’t it?” He leaned toward me, and I nearly moved back … but something held me where I was, something about the intensity in his eyes.

“What?” I asked.

He pointed at me. “You stopped yourself just now. You just dumbed it down for me.”

I hesitated only a moment. “Yeah, I kind of did.”

“Why?”

“Because you realy don’t want to hear about ancient Athens, any more than you wanted to hear Brayden talk about Chaos Theory.”

“That’s different,” said Adrian. He hadn’t moved away and was still standing so, so close to me. It seemed like that should’ve bothered me, but it didn’t. “He’s boring. You make learning fun. Like a children’s book or after school special. Tell me about your … um, Athenian women.” I tried not to smile. I admired his intentions here but knew he realy wasn’t up for a history lesson. Again, I wondered what game was going on. Why was he pretending to be interested? I tried to compose an answer that would take less than sixty seconds.

“Most Athenian women weren’t educated. They mostly stayed inside and were just expected to have kids and take care of the house. The most progressive women were the hetaerae.

They were like entertainers and high-class prostitutes. They were educated and a little flashier. Powerful men kept their wives at home to raise children and then hung out with hetaerae for fun.” I paused, unsure if he’d folowed any of that. “Like I said, it’s not paused, unsure if he’d folowed any of that. “Like I said, it’s not realy important.”

“I don’t know,” said Adrian thoughtfuly. “I find prostitutes vastly important.”

“Wel. How refreshing to see that things haven’t changed,” a new voice cut in.

We both flinched and looked up at the scowling man who had just joined us.

Adrian’s father had arrived.

THOSE OF US WHO KNEW what to look for could instantly spot Moroi by their pale complexions and tal, slim builds. To most human eyes, those features stood out but weren’t a vampire tip-off. Humans just noted the features as striking and unusual, much as Lia regarded Jill as the perfect ethereal runway form. I didn’t want to play upon stereotypes, but after a quick assessment of Mr. Ivashkov’s Moroi-paleness, long face, dour look, and silver hair, I kind of wondered that he didn’t get mistaken for a vampire more often. No, vampire wasn’t realy the correct term, I decided. More like undertaker.

“Dad,” said Adrian stiffly. “Always a pleasure.”

“For some of us.” His father studied me, and I saw his eyes fall on my cheek. He extended a hand. I took it, proud that shaking hands with Moroi was a non-event for me now. “Nathan Ivashkov.”

“Sydney Sage,” I replied. “It’s very nice to meet you, sir.”

“I met Sage while I was bumming around out here,” explained Adrian. “She was nice enough to give me a ride from ll.A. today since I don’t have a car.” Nathan looked at me in astonishment. “That’s a long drive.” Nathan looked at me in astonishment. “That’s a long drive.” Not nearly as long as the drive from Palm Springs, but we’d figured it would be safest—and more believable—to let him think Adrian was in Los Angeles.

“I don’t mind, sir,” I said. I glanced over at Adrian. “I’ll go get some work done. You want to text me when you’re ready to go?”

“Work?” he asked in disgust. “Come on, Sage. Go buy a bikini and enjoy the pool while you’re hanging around.” Nathan looked between us incredulously. “You made her drive you out here, and now you’re just going to make her wait around for your convenience?”

“Realy,” I said. “I don’t—”

“She’s an Alchemist,” continued Nathan. “Not a chauffeur.

There’s a big difference.” Actualy, there were days at Amberwood I doubted that. “Come, Miss Sage. If you’ve wasted your day driving my son here, the least I can do is buy you lunch.”

I shot a panicked look at Adrian. It wasn’t panicked because I was afraid of being with Moroi. I’d long since gotten used to these sorts of situations. What I was unsure of was if Adrian realy wanted me around for his family reunion. That hadn’t been part of the plan. Also, I wasn’t sure that I realy wanted to be around for said reunion either.

“Dad—” Adrian attempted.

“I insist,” said Nathan crisply. “Pay attention and learn common courtesy.” He turned and began walking away, assuming we’d folow. We did.

assuming we’d folow. We did.

“Should I find a reason to leave?” I whispered to Adrian.

“Not when he uses his ‘I insist’ voice,” came the muttered response.

For a moment, catching sight of the gorgeous terrace restaurant and its sunny ocean view, I thought I could handle the Ivashkovs. Sitting out there in that warmth and beauty would be well worth the drama. Then, Nathan walked right past the balcony doors and led us to the elevator. We folowed obediently. He took us down to the hotel’s ground floor, to a pub caled The Corkscrew. The place was dim and windowless, with low-hanging wood beams and black leather booths. Oak barrels lined the wals, and what light there was came filtered through red glass lamps. Aside from a lone bartender, the pub was empty, which didn’t entirely surprise me this time of day.

What did surprise me was that Nathan had taken us here instead of the ritzy outdoor restaurant. The guy was dressed in an expensive suit that looked like it had come straight from a Manhattan boardroom. Why he’d ignore a trendy, elite restaurant for lunch and instead choose a stuffy, dark—

Dark.

I nearly groaned. Of course the terrace wasn’t an option, not with Moroi. The sunny afternoon that made such enchanting conditions for me would have resulted in a pretty miserable lunch for the Ivashkovs—not that either of them looked like they planned on enjoying this one anyway.

“Mr. Ivashkov,” said the bartender. “Nice to see you back.”

“Can I get food delivered down here again?” asked Nathan.

“Can I get food delivered down here again?” asked Nathan.

“Of course.”

Again. This subterranean lair had probably been Nathan’s mainstay for all meals since arriving in San Diego. I alowed the terrace one last, wistful thought and then folowed Nathan and Adrian inside. Nathan selected a corner table intended for eight people. Maybe he liked his space. Or maybe he liked pretending he was presiding over a corporate meeting. The bartender gave us menus and took drink orders. I got coffee. Adrian ordered a martini, earning disapproving looks from his father and me.

“It’s barely noon,” said Nathan.

“I know,” said Adrian. “I’m surprised I held out that long too.”

Nathan ignored the comment and turned to me. “You’re very young. You must have just started with the Alchemists.”

“They start us all young,” I agreed. “I’ve been working on my own for a little over a year.”

“I admire that. Shows a great deal of responsibility and initiative.” He nodded thanks as the bartender set down a bottle of sparkling water. “It’s no secret how the Alchemists feel about us, but at the same time, your group does a lot of good for us.

Your efficiency is particularly remarkable. Too bad my own people don’t pay more attention to that example.”

“How are things with the Moroi?” I asked. “With the queen?” Nathan almost smiled. “Are you saying you don’t know?” I did—at least, I knew what the Alchemists knew. “It’s always different hearing an insider’s perspective, sir.” always different hearing an insider’s perspective, sir.” He chuckled. It was a harsh sound, like laughing wasn’t something Nathan Ivashkov had much practice with. “The situation’s better than it was. Not great, though. That girl’s smart, I’ll give her that.” I assumed “that girl” was Vasilisa Dragomir, teenage queen of the Moroi and Rose’s best friend. “I’m sure she’d rather be passing dhampir laws and hereditary laws—but she knows those are only going to anger her opponents. So, she’s finding ways to compromise on other issues and has won a few of her enemies over to her already.” The hereditary laws. Those were of interest to me. There were twelve royal lines among the Moroi, and Vasilisa and Jill were the only two left in theirs. Current Moroi law said a monarch had to have at least one other family member, which was how Jill had become such a political game piece. Even hardcore assassins would have a difficult time taking out a wel-guarded queen. Removing her half sister would provide the same results, however, and invalidate Vasilisa’s rule. That was why Jill had ended up in hiding.

Nathan’s thoughts folowed the same lines. “She’s also smart to hide that bastard sister of hers.” I knew he meant “bastard” in the sense of an ilegitimate child, not an insult, but I still winced.

“Rumor has it your people know something about that. Don’t suppose you’d give me an insider’s perspective on it?” I shook my head and tried to keep my tone friendly. “Sorry, sir. Insight only goes so far.”

After a few moments of silence, Nathan cleared his throat.

“Wel, Adrian. What is it you wanted?”

“Wel, Adrian. What is it you wanted?”

Adrian took a sip of his martini. “Oh, did you just notice I was here? I thought you’d come to see Sydney.” I sank into my chair a little. This was exactly the kind of situation I’d wanted to avoid.

“Why must every question yield some difficult answer with you?” asked Nathan wearily.

“Maybe it’s the kinds of questions you ask, Dad.” This pub wasn’t going to be big enough to hold the rapidly increasing tension. Every instinct told me to become invisible, but I found myself speaking anyway.

“Adrian’s in colege,” I said. “Taking art classes. He’s very talented.” Adrian shot me a questioning—but amused—look at that. Some of his pieces were quite good.

Others—especialy when he’d been drinking—looked like he’d accidentaly spiled paint on canvas. I’d helpfuly told him so on a number of occasions.

Nathan looked unimpressed. “Yes. He’s done that before. It didn’t last.”

“Different time, different place,” I said. “Things can change.

People can change.”

“But often, they don’t,” declared Nathan. The bartender returned to take our lunch orders, though none of us had even looked at the menus yet. “I’ll just order for us al, shal I?” Nathan opened the menu and scanned it quickly. “Bring us a platter of the garlic butter mushrooms, the goat cheese fondue, the bacon-wrapped scalops, and the fried oyster Caesar salad.

Enough for three on the salad, obviously.” Enough for three on the salad, obviously.” The bartender made a couple of quick notes and was gone before I could even say a word.

“Heavy-handed much, Dad?” asked Adrian. “You didn’t even ask if we minded you ordering.” Nathan looked unconcerned. “I’ve eaten here before. I know what’s good. Trust me, you’ll like it.”

“Sage won’t eat any of that.”

This realy would be easier, I decided, if they’d both just pretend I didn’t exist.

“Why ever not?” asked Nathan, looking at me curiously. “Are you alergic to seafood?”

“She only eats healthy stuff,” said Adrian. “Everything you just got is dripping in fat.”

“A little butter won’t hurt her. You’ll both see that I’m right.

It’s all good. Besides,” Nathan added, pausing to sip at his water. “I did order a salad for the table. Lettuce is healthy.” I didn’t even attempt to point out that no amount of Romaine was going to make up for fried oysters or Caesar dressing. I wouldn’t have had a chance to speak up anyway because Adrian was on a roll and

—I noticed with some surprise—

halfway through his martini.

“You see?” he said in disgust. “That’s exactly how you operate. You assume you know best for everyone. You just go ahead and make these decisions, not bothering to consult with anyone, because you’re so certain you’re right.”

“In my vast experience,” said Nathan coldly, “I am usualy

“In my vast experience,” said Nathan coldly, “I am usualy right. When you too possess that kind of experience—when you can actualy claim to be an authority on, wel, anything—then you can also be trusted with important decisions.”

“This is lunch,” Adrian argued back. “Not a life or death decision. All I’m saying is that you could have at least made some effort to include others. Obviously, your

‘vast experience’

doesn’t apply to normal courtesies.”

Nathan glanced over at me. “Have I been anything but courteous to you, Miss Sage?”

My chair, much to my dismay, didn’t swalow me up or offer to hide me.

Adrian finished his martini in a gulp and held up the glass to catch the bartender’s eye. “Leave her out of it,” Adrian told his father. “Don’t try to manipulate her into proving your point.”

“I hardly need to manipulate anyone into proving my point,” said Nathan. “I think it’s made.”

“Lunch will be fine,” I blurted out, fuly aware that this altercation between father and son realy had nothing to do with my eating habits. “I need to try more things anyway.”

“Don’t give in to him, Sydney,” warned Adrian. “That’s how he gets away with walking all over people—especialy women.

He’s done it to my mom for years.” The bartender silently appeared and replaced the empty martini glass with a full one.

“Please,” said Nathan, with a heavy sigh. “Let’s leave your mother out of this.”

“Should be easy enough,” said Adrian. I could see lines of tension in his face. His mother was a sensitive topic. “Seeing as tension in his face. His mother was a sensitive topic. “Seeing as you always do. I’ve been trying to get an answer out of you for weeks on how she’s doing! Hel, I’ve just been trying to figure out where she’s even at. Is that so hard for you to give up? She can’t be in maximum security. They must let her get letters.”

“It’s better that you don’t have contact with her while she’s incarcerated,” said Nathan. Even I was amazed at how coldly he spoke about his wife.

Adrian sneered and took a sip of his new martini. “There we are again: you knowing what’s best for everyone. You know, I’d realy, realy like to think you’re keeping this avoidance attitude with her because it hurts too much. I know that if the woman I loved was locked away, I’d be doing everything in my power to reach her. For you? Maybe it’s too hard. Maybe the only way you can cope without her is to block her out—and by keeping me away too. I could almost understand that.”

“Adrian—” began Nathan.

“But that’s not it, is it? You don’t want me to have contact—

and you probably aren’t having contact—because you’re embarrassed.” Adrian was realy getting worked up now. “You want to distance us and pretend what she did doesn’t exist. You want to pretend that she doesn’t exist. She’s ruined the family reputation.” Nathan fixed his son with a steely look. “Considering your own reputation, I’d think you would see the wisdom in not associating with someone who has done what she’s done.”

“What, screw up?” Adrian demanded. “We all screw up.

Everyone makes mistakes. That’s what she did. It was bad Everyone makes mistakes. That’s what she did. It was bad judgment, that’s al. You don’t cut off the people you love for mistakes like that.”

“She did it because of you,” said Nathan. His tone left no question about what he thought of that decision. “Because you couldn’t leave well enough alone with that dhampir girl. You had to flaunt your relationship with her, nearly getting yourself in as much trouble as her in your aunt’s murder. That’s why your mother did what she did—to protect you. Because of your irresponsibility, she’s in prison now. All of this is your fault.” Adrian went pale—more so than usual—and looked too shocked to even attempt any response. He picked up his martini again, and I was almost certain I could see his hands shaking. It was right around then that two waiters from the upstairs restaurant showed up with our food. We stared in silence as they arranged our place settings and artfuly laid out the platters of food.

Looking at all that food made me nauseous, and it had nothing to do with the oill or salt content.

“Mr. Ivashkov,” I began, despite every reasonable voice in my head screaming at me to shut up. “It’s unfair to blame Adrian for her choices, especialy when he didn’t even realize what she was doing. I know he would do anything for her. If he’d been able to stop this—or take her place—he would have.”