The Golden Lily

CHAPTER 9

THOSE OF US WHO KNEW what to look for could instantly spot Moroi by their pale complexions and tall, 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 really 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 L.A. today since I don’t have a car.”

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?”

“Really,” I said. “I don’t-”

“She’s an Alchemist,” continued Nathan. “Not a chauffeur. There’s a big difference.” Actually, 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 really wanted me around for his family reunion. That hadn’t been part of the plan. Also, I wasn’t sure that I really 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 follow. 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 followed obediently. He took us down to the hotel’s ground floor, to a pub called The Corkscrew. The place was dim and windowless, with low-hanging wood beams and black leather booths. Oak barrels lined the walls, 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.

“Of course.”

Again. This subterranean lair had probably been Nathan’s mainstay for all meals since arriving in San Diego. I allowed the terrace one last, wistful thought and then followed 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.”

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 well-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 followed the same lines. “She’s also smart to hide that bastard sister of hers.” I knew he meant “bastard” in the sense of an illegitimate 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. “Well, 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 college,” 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-especially when he’d been drinking-looked like he’d accidentally spilled paint on canvas. I’d helpfully 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