* Whew! I almost thought I wouldn't get to post this before I leave for Mexico in a few hours. I probably won't be able to update for at least a week, but the next chapter will be posted as soon as possible when I get back. An Adrian hug to all you reviewers for your kind words. As always, I love hearing from you and appreciate your thoughts. Please don't hate me for this chapter, okay? :{ *hides*

Chapter Eleven

Adrian

Angeline's southern accent rang in my ears. "Why didn't you guys tell me? Me! Of all people you tell Neil—Mr. British Uptight and Proper!"

Neil straightened. "Hey."

Angeline ignored him and repeatedly jabbed a finger in to my chest."I never would've judged or condemned you and Sydney. I could've helped and would've been happy for you guys. You know my people don't care. Heck, we encourage it!" Angeline had grown up with the Keepers, a rare rural mountain community of Moroi, dhampirs, and humans who intermarried, so I didn't doubt her for a second.

Grasping her shoulders, I leaned down to look her in the eye. "I'm sorry. I know if there's anyone who would support us, it's you. And I appreciate that more than you can ever know. But Syndey and I couldn't—can't live as openly as your people. We didn't, and we don't. Jill knew because of the bond. Eddie found out by chance when Sydney was taken, and Neil learned of it yesterday. Sydney and I didn't tell anyone. We weren't only worried about the scrutiny but mostly of her getting caught by the Alchemists."

Angeline opened her mouth then quickly shut it. I knew what she was thinking—we could have gone to the Keepers to hide, but who knew for how long. The Alchemists stopped by the communities every so often with food and medicine and would have found Sydney.

Angeline's shoulders slumped. I rubbed them.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Whoa!" I laughed. "I think that's a first." Angeline had the tendency to get into all sorts of trouble. She never apologized, only always saying, "It wasn't my fault."

"And did you hear what she said?" asked Jill. "She said 'heck' instead of 'hell.'"

We all chuckled.

Angeline pulled away and roughly rubbed at her eyes, trying to hide angry tears. "That's because of Sydney. Everyone respects her. All the teachers and other students. I thought …" She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. All that matters is we get her back, and we will."

And just like that, we had good old Angeline back. She paced the room, hands flying everywhere as she spewed disdain for the Alchemists and close-minded people. In true Angeline fashion, the topic veered to an obscure tangent, from the Keepers to the Aztecs and Trey Juarez, her boyfriend. I slipped out and headed to my room a few doors down.

Instead of guest housing, we were staying in the palace, close to Jill. I was silently thanking Lissa for remembering my preference to stay away from my parents' townhouse when I opened the door and saw my reason for avoiding the place. Someone as immovable and unrelenting as the Alchemists.

Nathan Ivashkov, my dad, stood in the middle of my room with his signature dour glower and haughty nose in the air.

I sighed and shut the door. Would this day never end?

"Welcome, Dad. Please, make yourself at home." I placed my duffle next to the nightstand. "How's Mom?"

I usually waited a few minutes before bringing up my incarcerated mother who disgraced the family by stealing evidence of Jill's legitimacy and bribing a witness in my aunt's murder case, but I was in no mood to be even slightly accommodating when my dad wouldn't tell me where she was.

As expected, he sneered. I spoke before he could cut me down with how much better she was without me. "What do you want?"

He drew back, startled or disgusted, whether from the question, from my directness or that I had bothered to ask, I wasn't sure.

I crossed my arms and braced myself. "Come on, Dad. You never come to me. When I want to see you, I have to make an appointment through your secretary. Terribly cliché, by the way. You were in California twelve times in the past six months, and I only saw you once—because I scheduled it. You didn't bother to try to see me the last time I came to Court, and we both know you haven't come to check on my well-being. Your assumptions are already conclusions in your mind. So, what are you doing here? What do you want?"

He appraised me, his expression giving nothing away to his thoughts. I scratched my jaw, noting I should have shaved, but I refused to fidget any more under his gaze. For a moment, I thought I saw his eyes glint with a bit of approval.

"You wore that when you saw the queen?" he asked. Okay, so that crumb of approval was wishful thinking.

"Yes," I replied, walking to the mini-fridge for a drink. "I've been awake for nearly forty-eight hours. Her Majesty summoned me. I wasn't going to make her wait so I can power nap and take a shower."

My dad nodded absently. I took a swig of water and studied him. He didn't answer my question. Then again, he kind of did.

"That's what you wanted to know—if I saw the queen." I snorted. "What happened? Did she cancel a meeting with you?" The return of the Palm Springs group had been last minute, and we had talked for hours. Not that Jill wasn't a priority, but I was surprised Lissa had stayed with us as long as she had.

My dad tsked. "She canceled with Reece Tarus. Your mother's uncle was complaining."

"Typical. Royal Council members think they should have top priority. You'll fit right in when you take the Ivashkov chair after Uncle Rufus dies." I widened my eyes dramatically. "Oh, wait. You already stand in for the twelfth chair—the Dragomir chair—since the Princess can't."

For voting purposes, the Council seats along with the queen's had to equal an odd number. It was no coincidence there were twelve Royal families. With Jill both too young and in hiding, the Ivashkovs held the proxy position, as we were the largest Royal family.

"Well …" I smirked wryly at my dad, continuing. "You hold the chair until Princess Jillian graduates. As you well know since you're currently on the Council, the vote passed to discontinue the family quorum. The Princess will no longer be harmed in that respect, right?" I tilted my head to the side. "I do wonder about other reasons, though."

I didn't think my dad was behind the initial assassination attempts, but I did want to make it clear that other possible motives to harm Jill and ultimately Lissa hadn't gone unnoticed. Because if I had list of people capable of conspiracy and who would see the inside of a jail cell, my mother wouldn't have made the list. My dad, on the other hand, would be in the top ten.

His eyes narrowed. He caught what I was implying, all right. Then, surprisingly, he smiled—just a tiny twitch of his bushy, silver mustache—and said, "I'll be damned."

"You already are," I muttered and resisted sitting down. I'd be damned to have to look up at my dad.

But exhaustion was settling in. My second and third wind had longed passed, and the night was still young. I had a lot to do without a drop of liquor, maybe not even a nightcap later. I was determined to hold off on smoking, too. I was worried that stopping both medication and substances altogether wouldn't be the smartest move, but I had to try. Sydney needed me, and my head needed to be clear.

"Queen Vasilia praised your work to me," my dad started. Yes, I knew as much. He had given me money for a car and upped my allowance because of it, all due to Sydney asking Sonya and Dimitri to talk to the queen to speak on my behalf. "Granted, she wouldn't clarify what that work entailed besides that 'it was for the greater good and could make Moroi and dhampir history.' I'll admit a part of me was skeptical."

"You still sound skeptical."

"Well, look at you." He gestured at me with disdain. "You've never appeared as such a mess, not even when you were inebriated beyond belief. Yet there's not one whiff of clove or alcohol on you. You're standing instead of insolently laying down and glaring. You didn't glance once at the decanter on the sideboard. You're drinking water. You still have a smart mouth, impertinent and utterly disrespectful to your betters, but at least the words aren't insipid. They're … noteworthy."

"Oh, God. I think I need a drink."

"Don't," he snapped. "Keep this up—and clean your appearance up—and I'll consider telling you where your mother is."

I straightened and considered him.

He nodded. "I will. But first, about you and the Dragomir Princess."

I groaned.

"Oh, please. I know you like women, not girls."

"That's a relief."

"Continue to watch out for her," he said, ignoring me. "Stay close, but don't appear too close."

My eyes narrowed. "Why? What do you know?"

"Nothing. That's just it. Usually there's talk, speculations and discontent, but hardly for the past few weeks. Strigoi attacks have dropped, as well." His scowl deepened. "It's too quiet. The bastard Princess's reappearance at Court stirs things up again, and you arriving by her side didn't go unnoticed."

I flicked a hand. "She was on the plane when I was picked up. They were saving gas mileage, I guess." Very few people knew about my connection to Jill and her hiding. My dad was not one of them. I wanted to keep it that way in case we had to run again.

"I don't know your exact ties to the Princess and what you're doing for the Queen. All I know is that I'm not the only one curious as to both." At his expectant look, I merely hummed.

To throw him off, I smiled and patted his shoulder. "Who would have guessed? You do care about me."

He shrugged me away and turned toward the door. Though I hated to waste the energy, I took a peek at his aura. There was the usual orange of air users, overwhelmed by bright lemon-yellow as well as brown typical of my dad who stressed in his struggle for control and power, but lower, deeper or maybe from an outside source, there was a dark and muddy gray. He was genuinely worried.

"Dad." I swallowed. "I'm here for the rest of the week, if you want to have lunch." I couldn't see his face, but he stopped. I took that as a good sign.

"I'm open when you are," he said at last.

That was saying a lot.

I couldn't help but say, "I order my own food, though."

He walked out and slammed the door. I shook my head. Maybe some things could change, but not everything.

With a deep, calming breath, I sank into the chair and reached out to Sydney. Nothing but black. I ignored the despair that slid on me and checked in on Wolfe. After distractedly toying with our appearances and the dream environment, he agreed he'd talk to Jackie about coming to Pennsylvania. He didn't think there would be any issues. He also said he should have information on the Sage custody hearing soon.

I tried Sydney again and encountered the same result, darkness and hopelessness, so I barged in on Marcus's sleep. It didn't last a minute since he immediately was being woken up, but he confirmed he got the location details and was waiting to hear back from multiple sources.

I reached for Sydney again and again. Over two hours later with no luck, I was pacing and shaking. My hands itched for a cigarette or a paintbrush. The amber liquor on the side called to me until I had the nerve to flush it down the toilet. Even then, I glared at the door to the hall that would lead me to clubs and bars, to booze and smokes, to blood and distractions.

Tugging on my hair, trying to get a grip, I sat on the bed. I bounced right up and grabbed my bag. I removed Sydney's AYE shirt and buried my face in the fabric. It no longer smelled of her and the jasmine and carnation perfume oil I had once bought her. With sorrow, I carefully set it on the bed and then dug around the books she'd given me or left at my apartment. A few were spell books that Inez had given her. A couple were on abstract art. Some on poetry. I pulled out one of the novels she encouraged me to finish. Les Misérables.

After a few encouraging words to Hopper, I placed the frozen dragon on the nightstand before settling into bed. Inserting buds in my ears, I searched music on my phone and hit play. To Neil Young's guitar-seeped soundtrack for Dead Man vibrating through my head and with Victor Hugo's translated words making my eyes cross, I finally fell asleep.

_._

I had woken up later than intended, having forgotten to reset my alarm on my phone and compensate for the time difference. Freshly showered, I had gone to the feeders and now wandered around Court. It was past Moroi dinnertime, and most of the gang was nowhere to be found. Neil confirmed he was with Olive. Eddie and Angeline, I figured, were sparing or hanging with guardians. Jill was … somewhere, not with Lissa and Rose since I had spoken with them as I left the palace.

It was just as well. I needed to get through my dreaded meeting with Nina. I sent a text to the number Neil had given me when I had called him earlier. Then I remembered. Jill was probably reuniting with her mother. I sent her some mental happiness and a message to come find me in a couple hours if she could. My phone chimed with a text. Nina.

Rain check? Around breakfast tomorrow? Well, dinner for you since I'm guessing you just woke up.

I smiled, amused that she knew and wasn't one to coming running. I was also relieved. I could gather my thoughts beforehand.

Sounds good, I texted back. Coffee shop across St. Fevronia Park.

I mentally changed my S.O.S. time for Jill. A moment later, my phone chimed again. This time from an unknown number.

I'll be there. Now stop with the mind-melds.

I laughed and pocketed my phone. With a free day ahead, I located a store with art supplies and charmed the owner to stay open a few more minutes. She also agreed to have the larger materials delivered to the palace. So, with sketchpad and pencils in hand, I went to a coffee shop on the east side of Court, across the park Sydney and I had exchanged various stories while bracing the cold the last time we had been here together.

Watching the sunrise and the day go by, I lost myself in memories and trying an art technique I never had before, periodically checking in on her without success.

I was staring at the statue of St. Fevronia veiled in waning light and thinking of Sydney—her smile, the snow in her hair, surrounded by gold, while she told me the humans' story behind the saint—when the chair next to me slid out.

"That's an interesting rendition of Il Decameron," Nina remarked as she sat down.

My brows rose. I glanced at my sketch where I blended a well-known Il Decameron illustration and the St. Fevronia statue together, centrum permanebit etched in one of the arches in the background. "You know Italian literature and art?"

Nina shrugged. "I went to high school in Rome before I moved to Athens, and I am majoring in Art History."

Closing my sketchbook, I covered my twinge over the mention of Sydney's dream cities. My brows furrowed as I comprehended what Nina said. "I thought you were from Texas."

"No, Texas was where I tracked my sister." She wrapped her hands around her mug. "Boccaccio's Il Decameron is actually one of our favorites series of tales."

I frowned and looked away. It was one of Sydney's, too. I remembered exactly where and when she had admitted to favoring Boccaccio's love stories that ranged from the tragic to the erotic. We had been walking away from the St. Fevronia statue. Sydney had said both the story behind the human saint and the collection of Boccaccio's witty novellas shared motifs.

I was aware of Nina staring at me and then following my gaze when I wouldn't look at her.

"Do you think there was a St. Peter?" Nina asked, referring to the other half of the sainted married couple in the human version.

I would have laughed if I weren't disturbed. It was almost the same question Sydney had asked me when I told her the Moroi didn't have a St. Peter. You don't think there could have been a St. Peter? Maybe he was lost or excluded in your history.

Uncharacteristically dramatic, Sydney had gone on to weave a complex tale of St. Fevronia overshadowing Peter because he was human. The female saint healed him and the sick—true in the Moroi version if you took out Peter. St. Fevronia also outsmarted his people—found only in the human version—while he tricked her people. And after all, according to the humans, he killed his brother and then married the newly widowed wife: St. Fevronia.

"We know there's some truth to fiction," Sydney had said with a playfully ominous tone and pointed glance. "He could have been real. He just wasn't sainted by your people because he was human and a murderer."

I replied by laughing, pulling her behind a tree, and sneaking in a kiss. Later, when we had returned to her room, I told her our story was better. It was real and much more romantic. We healed each other and, unlike the human version in which the couple died on the same day and were forever buried together, we lived for one another.

I had also added that the humans were wrong, as always. Sydney had poked me. I had laughed and poked her back. We ended up in a tickle war that led to more kissing, whispering, and simply pretending the outside world didn't exist. It was one of the best days of my life.

I didn't tell any of that to Nina, of course. Instead, I swallowed the lump in my throat and murmured, "I'm definitely not a saint, but I am very lucky. I have two halves in my life who make me whole and balance me."

"Oh?" she asked, sounding amused.

"Yeah, there's Jill. I'm sure you noticed our auras." I glanced at Nina, and she nodded. I looked around the coffee shop, glad to see it empty. The owner was bribed easily enough. It helped that the queen had asked him to close, too. And since Lissa gave me the go-ahead earlier because Nina was a spirit user and bound to notice, I continued, "That's because we share a bond. Jill is Shadow-Kissed. I brought her back from the dead."

"Oh." That was not amused. "Wow."

I chuckled a little. "I know."

"That explains it—the auras. I read about the Queen and Guardian Hathway's bond, but I had no idea what it would look like since they don't share one anymore." Nina sipped her coffee before glancing at me. "And I'm guessing, like theirs had been, your bond with Jill is a closely guarded secret."

I nodded. "It is."

Nina placed a hand on my arm. "I swear I won't tell anyone, Adrian."

"That's good to hear, though I wouldn't have told you if any of us believed otherwise."

"I know. I only thought I should reassure you." She moved and squeezed my hand. "Thank you for telling me."

I turned, shifting out of her hold. "Now, the other half, I wouldn't say she's better than Jill or that Jill is better than her, but … she's the best thing that could've happened me." I raised my hand with the ring. "I'm not married, but I might as well be. In my heart, I am."

Understanding lit in those gray eyes. Disappointment flickered across her features before she looked down. "Ah. I see."

"I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not." I grimaced. "That sounded harsher than I intended."

"No. No." She shook her head. "I'm … glad, kind of relieved."

I blinked. "Really?"

"Let's face it. I would've fallen in love with you, and you would've broke my heart."

Our gazes caught. We shared slow grins and a soft laugh. When we turned toward the window, night had fully descended. Moroi and dhampirs passed by. No one looked at the darkened coffee shop, and neither Nina nor I said a word, both lost in thought. The silence was oddly … comfortable.

"I'm guessing hardly anyone knows this, too?" she asked quietly after a while.

"How do you figure?"

"It would be the talk of the town if many did."

I held back a bitter laugh. She had no idea.

"Your secrets are safe with me, Adrian. To prove it, and as a thank you, I'm going to tell you one of mine."

We weren't looking at each other, so she probably didn't see my bemused smile. "Okay."

"There was a boy. He didn't feel the same, at least I don't think he did, but I was crazy about him." She paused, twisting her mug around and fiddling with the handle. "Because of how I was raised, I didn't care that many people would think it was wrong if they ever found out. He was … he was human."

My gaze snapped to her. "What?" We had been whispering, so that one shocked word echoed in the shop.

Nina smiled sadly, painfully. Before she could continue, a knock resounded. Jill stood at the door. Since I had asked her to save me from an awkward goodbye with Nina, Jill was a bit late. Not that I minded or needed it, remarkably. Glancing between the two of them, I kind of wanted to stay and hear the rest of this story.

Then Jill banged a hand on the window again. I noticed her frantic demeanor and wide eyes. Eddie stood behind her, my duffle over his shoulder.

"Sorry," I told Nina, scurrying to grab my things.

"No, it's all right. This looks urgent." She stood and walked with me to the door.

As I passed her, I asked, "Coffee another time?"

"Sure."

"Because I have to hear the rest of this story of yours." I smiled. "Though I am sincerely interested, it's only fair."

She chuckled softly. "Right. But if you want to talk about fair, I'm telling two people in essence."

"Ha!" I unlocked the door and opened it. "See you later, Nina. And … thanks."

Her eyes were sad but warm, like her smile. "You're welcome."

I took my bag from Eddie, shoving my sketchbook and pencils inside. As he, Jill, and I walked briskly toward the palace, Jill glared at me. "Why isn't your phone on?"

I checked it and cursed. "It's dead. What happened?"

"Wolfe's been trying to call you, and Lissa wants to meet. I think she heard back from the Alchemists."

I sped up and opened my bag again, digging around for the burner phone Wolfe had given me. I dialed him, and he answered during the first ring. "Boy, why aren't you carrying this phone with you?"

"I was expecting you later tonight," I snapped. "Or tomorrow evening—whatever." The time zone and schedule switch seriously messed me up. I nodded to the guardians at the palace entrance. Inside, Jill and Eddie were behind me as I climbed the steps two at a time. When the old man didn't say anything, I sighed. "I'm sorry. Is everything okay?" He didn't reply. I looked at the phone. The call was still connected. "Wolfe?"

We entered the media room, where everyone from two nights before waited, plus a new addition—Sonya Karp. I had asked Lissa to include her—along with the unreachable Abe—the first night. The other spirit user who used to be Strigoi had been in Europe, checking on a lead. I smiled at her and then sat down. "Wolfe," I said.

"Sorry. Yeah, um … the Sage custody hearing was today."

I perked up. "And?"

"I had a couple men at the courthouse in Salt Lake City, but Sydney wasn't at the hearing."

I deflated a little. "Okay. That isn't really a surprise, I guess. The Alchemists probably wouldn't let—wait. You had men there?"

"In case Sydney attended. They would've tried to grab her if possible."

"Wolfe …" I sighed and covered my face. He was going far and beyond what I had asked of him. "Thank you, for trying and everything."

I could feel all eyes in the room on me. Lissa asked Jill what was happening, and Jill filled everyone in.

"Yes, well …" Wolfe cleared his throat. "The men followed the family to separate homes. They're waiting to see if the father will lead us to Sydney."

Going to Sydney's family had been one of my other ideas to finding her, but it had been quickly disregarded. Sure, the entire family weren't Alchemists, but that didn't mean I could trust them or that they would help. Although her parents were getting a divorce, they must have shared some beliefs. I didn't want to put Sydney's mother and older sister in danger, either. I also didn't have the resources to follow her dad or younger sister, and those two would recognize me and the gang on the spot.

Wolfe's people, on the other hand, had a better chance. Still … "I don't want your men to get caught," I told him.

I could practically feel his smile through the phone. "They won't, and if they do, they know how to take care of themselves."

"I would say it isn't necessary, but … I trust you, old man." I thought of his words to me when I had gotten on the plane. "I'm accepting your help."

I heard him exhale heavily. "There's … something else. A video."

"Of?"

"Sydney. When the judge questioned her, it was through video chat."

"Send it over." I grabbed the laptop Wolfe had also given me from my bag. The man was thorough and suspicious, said we couldn't be too careful. I logged in, and as I waited to connect through a secure line, I asked, "Did you send it?"

"Uh …"

"Send it, Wolfe. I'm not asking. I want to see her. I need to." The others in the room needed to, as well. I knew most of them didn't believe what the Alchemists were capable of. I was afraid of what I would see, what they would, and how Sydney would feel about it, but I ignored all that. If it could help save her, it had to be done. I was going to ask Wolfe if she was nude, but of course she wouldn't be. She was talking to a judge.

"Sent," he said.

"Thank you." After the laptop connected to a secure line, I signed into the account Wolfe made me. I opened the new message and waited for the file to download.

Wolfe cleared his throat. "There's something else you should know. We tried to trace the line during the video conference."

"Where'd it lead?" I interrupted, becoming more alert and excited.

"We were abruptly cut off and hacked, so we didn't get an exact location, but Sydney's end wasn't originating in Las Vegas, Nevada, or Salt Lake City. It was New Mexico. There's an Interstate 25 that runs through Las Vegas, New Mexico."

"So we misintererpted Jackie's visions, but at least we're getting closer to the exact location."

"And we'll keep trying," Wolfe said.

"You're the best, old matey."

He grunted. "I better hear from you later, boy, or I'm not helping you again. Understand?"

I frowned and then scoffed. "Of course you'll hear from me. Didn't you know? You're stuck with me. I'm already indebted to you forever for watching Sydney's baby." At everyone's aghast looks, I rolled my eyes. They clearly couldn't count nine months from December. "A car," I clarified to them.

"All right," Wolfe said. "I'm holding you to that. Call me later."

"Will do. Thanks again, Wolfe."

He disconnected. I placed the phone next to the laptop on the coffee table. My God, how long was the video? The file was still downloading, so I met Lissa's stare. "What happened, cousin?"

She sighed. "First, the Alchemists sent us pictures of that Strigoi, saying it was a good thing Jill and all of you came to Court."

I hoped my shock didn't show, and I didn't dare glance at Jill, Neil, or Eddie. We hadn't shared that our suspicions of the Alchemists were working with Strigoi—for this reason exactly. We hadn't been sure, and before alarming everyone else, we were waiting, hoping, to see if they would contact Lissa with the information. If they didn't by the time the week was out, we'd planned on bringing it to her attention.

"I didn't tell them about Wolfe," Lissa continued. "I only told them our guardians would take care of it. They asked if other arrangements needed to be made. I said that we'd let them know." So, she wasn't telling them about the family quorum ruling yet.

I nodded slowly. "Okay, that's good."

"The Alchemists also said they'll send people over as soon as possible to help with the Strigoi vaccine."

"But not Sydney."

Lissa nodded and wrung her hands. "Not Sydney. When I pressed for her, they said she's under evaluation and might not be part of the organization any longer."

If it were possible, my heart would have stopped. Horror and a fear I had never known squeezed my chest in a death grip. Jill scrambled over everyone. "No, no." She straddled me and seized my face. "They're not going to kill her. They're not. Marcus said it wasn't their style, remember?"

"B-b-but how c-can he be sure?"

"Because that would be a sin." She read my next thought and answered, "They believe Eddie is an evil creature of the night. He isn't human to them. Sydney is. It would be a sin."

I couldn't tell if it was Jill or me shaking, if either one caused the other to, or if we both were. It seemed the whole world quaked, threatening to collapse and bring us down, bury us under.

There was a sudden chime. Jill shifted to sit next to me, wrapping herself and me around each other as she held on. Her voice trembled, and she sounded so far away, but I caught the words. "Plug the laptop into the TV and play the video."

I could feel myself becoming detached, floating or sinking in some weird space that held no meaning, no light.

"Stay with me. You're okay. We're okay." The next words were lost to me, tumbling in a vacuous chasm that abruptly sucked in a giant breath.

An echo pierced through. It was fissure of gold and violet, a strain associated with something pure and so beautiful, like a prism of brilliant color, that it tugged at my soul. I looked up at the voice and saw Sydney. Only, she was a shadow of the woman I loved. Rail thin. So hollow, flat, empty—her cheeks, her eyes, her smile.

"Yes." Slow and robotic, Sydney's nod was devoid of emotion. "I've been told that already."

But her voice … there was a hint of her there.

"Tell me about it. Your childhood," a man's voice said.

"Well, I imagine it wasn't all that different from others'." Sydney's words and tone were almost right. Evasive and cheeky. But her smile was all wrong. I had never seen it before. Not even her Alchemist smile was that emotionless.

"Please elaborate, Miss Sage," said the man.

"I—" She stopped, but I knew her so well. She was going to say, I can't—which wasn't in Sydney's vocabulary. She would say she didn't know and was going to find out. Learning—that was Sydney. She was a do-gooder, a go-getter, capable beyond belief. Not a quitter, an I can't utterer. In another time or place, I might have been more worried about this fact, but she was trying so hard.

I could help but cheer her on. "Come on, baby. Say it. You can."

She didn't.

"All right," the man intoned.

Seeing a sudden spark in her eyes, I stood up and moved closer. I tilted my head, studying her. She was panicking inside. "What's wrong?" I whispered. I was so in tuned to her body and movements, always had been, that I noticed when she froze completely, a hand on her cheek. Suddenly, it clicked. "The tattoo."

I'd known there was fire in Sydney, but when she slammed into the window, she made me flinch. Gasps came from behind me. And as she continued to bash against the window, she scared me—she made me afraid for her. The sounds and curses coming from her mouth terrified me. They were so unlike the calm Sydney I knew. I swiped at my eyes frantically, my vision blurring as I tried to watch her. She tore apart her cell and the bed that hadn't been there before when I had visited in a dream. Stifled sobs rose inside me, around me.

I reached out, trying to calm her. "Stop, Sage. Stop." She was hurting herself.

Miraculously, she did stop—dead center of the room. With her profile toward the camera, head dropped back, she gulped in air. My heart pounded. My chest heaved like hers. There was blood all over her, and I was ripped apart, shredded, at the sight.

Her eyes flicked to the window. I was standing close enough that I saw the shift in those dull brown irises. Confusion, realization, loss, and then slow defeat before they went utterly vacant.

I banged my hands on the screen. "No, no, nononono."

A gut-wrenching cry escaped her, filled with anguish, such agony. I had to cover my ears.

She fell.

So did I.

I moaned, my insides churning. I clawed at my chest. There was a sensation so completely foreign to me it had to come out. I couldn't breathe.

Shouts erupted—around me and from the TV.

"Adrian!"

"My God."

"Stop her!"

"Jill!"

"Someone help me!"

"Adrian!"

Jill … I thought belatedly at that last voice. I had to get to her. To them—her and Sydney.

Alarms sounded, joining the cacophony, coalescing.

"Look at me!"

"Jillian!"

"Adrian!"

"Stop the camera!"

"Adrian …"

I answered the moan with one of my own. "Syd …"

"Goddamn it. Look at me!"

"Adrian …"

"Shh!"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. God help me."

"Listen."

"Adrian. Adrian, I love you …"

The grip eased. I breathed in.

"I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry. Adr—"

I groaned. "Sydney."

Warmth surrounded me. Shadows encircled and encroached. All the while, I imagined the light and love of my life right next to me, breathing in my ear, before it all stopped and oblivion descended.