Last Sacrifice

That was the least weird thing here, however, seeing as I was watching my own funeral. When he finished, Alberta took his place. Lauding the deceased's achievements was also normal at a guardian's funeral—and Alberta had plenty to say about mine. Had I been there, I would have been moved to tears. She concluded by describing my last battle, how I'd died defending Lissa.

That actually didn't weird me out so much. I mean, don't get me wrong. Everything going on here was completely insane. But, reasonably speaking, if I was actually watching my own funeral, it made sense that I would have died protecting her.

Lissa didn't share my feelings. The news was a slap in the face to her. She suddenly became aware of a horrible empty feeling in her chest, like part of her was gone. The bond only worked one way, yet Robert had sworn losing his bondmate had left him in agony. Lissa understood it now, that terrible, lonely ache. She was missing something she'd never even known she'd had. Tears brimmed in her eyes.

This is a dream, she told herself. That's all. But she'd never had a spirit dream like this. Her experiences had always been with Adrian, and the dreams had felt like telephone calls.

When the mourners dispersed from the graveyard, Lissa felt a hand touch her shoulder. Christian. She threw herself gratefully into his arms, trying hard to hold back sobs. He felt real and solid. Safe. 'How did this happen?' she asked. 'How could it have happened?'

Christian released her, his crystal-blue eyes more serious and sorrowful than I'd ever seen. 'You know how. Those Strigoi were trying to kill you. She sacrificed herself to save you.'

Lissa had no memory of this, but it didn't matter. 'I can't . . . I can't believe this is happening.' That agonizing emptiness grew within her.

'I have more bad news,' said Christian.

She stared in astonishment. 'How could this get any worse?'

'I'm leaving.'

'Leaving . . . what? Court?'

'Yes. Leaving everything.' The sadness on his face grew. 'Leaving you.'

Her jaw nearly dropped. 'What . . . what's wrong? What did I do?'

'Nothing.' He squeezed her hand and let it go. 'I love you. I'll always love you. But you are who you are. You're the last Dragomir. There'll always be something taking you away . . . I'd just get in your way. You need to rebuild your family. I'm not the one you need.'

'Of course you are! You are the only one! The only one I want to build my future with.'

'You say that now, but just wait. There are better choices. You heard Adrian's joke. ‘Little Dragomirs'? When you're ready for kids in a few years, you're going to need a bunch. The Dragomirs need to be solid again. And me? I'm not responsible enough to handle that.'

'You'd be a great father,' she argued.

'Yeah,' he scoffed, 'and I'd be a big asset to you too—the princess married to the guy from the Strigoi family.'

'I don't care about any of that, and you know it!' She clutched at his shirt, forcing him to look at her. 'I love you. I want you to be part of my life. None of this makes sense. Are you scared? Is that it? Are you scared of the weight of my family name?'

He averted his eyes. 'Let's just say it's not an easy name to carry.'

She shook him. 'I don't believe you! You're not afraid of anything! You never back down.'

'I'm backing down now.' He gently removed himself from her. 'I really do love you. That's why I'm doing this. It's for the best.'

'But you can't . . .' Lissa gestured toward my grave, but he was already walking away. 'You can't! She's gone. If you're gone too, there'll be no one . . .'

But Christian was gone, disappearing into fog that hadn't been there minutes ago. Lissa was left with only my tombstone for company. And for the first time in her life, she was really and truly alone. She had felt alone when her family died, but I'd been her anchor, always at her back, protecting her. When Christian had come along, he too had kept the loneliness away, filling her heart with love.

But now . . . now we were both gone. Her family was gone. That hole inside threatened to consume her, and it was more than just the loss of the bond. Being alone is a terrible, terrible thing. There's no one to run to, no one to confide in, no one who cares what happens to you. She'd been alone in the woods, but that was nothing like this. Nothing like it at all.

Staring around, she wished she could go sink into my grave and end her torment. No . . . wait. She really could end it. Say 'stop,' the old woman had said. That was all it took to stop this pain. This was a spirit dream, right? True, it was more realistic and all-consuming than any she'd ever faced, but in the end, all dreamers woke up. One word, and this would become a fading nightmare.

Staring around at the empty Court, she almost said the word. But . . . did she want to end things? She'd vowed to fight through these trials. Would she give up over a dream? A dream about being alone? It seemed like such a minor thing, but that cold truth hit her again: I've never been alone. She didn't know if she could carry on by herself, but then, she realized that if this wasn't a dream—and dear God, did it feel real—there was no magic 'stop' in real life. If she couldn't deal with loneliness in a dream, she never would be able to while waking. And as much as it scared her, she decided she would not back down from this. Something urged her toward the fog, and she walked toward it—alone.

The fog should have led her into the church's garden. Instead, the world rematerialized and she found herself in a Council session. It was an open one, with a Moroi audience watching. Unlike usual, Lissa didn't sit with the audience. She was at the Council's table, with its thirteen chairs. She sat in the Dragomir seat. The middle chair, the monarch's chair, was occupied by Ariana Szelsky. Definitely a dream, some wry part of her thought. She had a Council spot and Ariana was queen. Too good to be true.

Like always, the Council was in a heated debate, and the topic was familiar: the age decree. Some Council members argued that it was immoral. Others argued that the Strigoi threat was too great. Desperate times called for desperate actions, those people said.

Ariana peered down the table at Lissa. 'What does the Dragomir family think?' Ariana was neither as kind as she'd been in the van nor as hostile as Tatiana had been. Ariana was neutral, a queen running a Council and gathering the information she needed. Every set of eyes in the room turned toward Lissa.

For some reason, every coherent idea had fled out of her head. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth. What did she think? What was her opinion of the age decree? She desperately tried to dredge up an answer.

'I . . . I think it's bad.'

Lee Szelsky, who must have taken the family spot when Ariana became queen, snorted in disgust. 'Can you elaborate, princess?'

Lissa swallowed. 'Lowering the guardian age isn't the way to protect us. We need . . . we need to learn to protect ourselves too.'

Her words were met with more contempt and shock. 'And pray tell,' said Howard Zeklos, 'how do you plan to do that? What's your proposal? Mandatory training for all ages? Start a program in the schools?'

Again Lissa groped for words. What was the plan? She and Tasha had discussed it lots of times, strategizing this very issue of how to implement training. Tasha had practically pounded those details into her head in the hopes Lissa could make her voice heard. Here she was now, representing her family on the Council, with the chance to change things and improve Moroi life. All she had to do was explain herself. So many were counting on her, so many waiting to hear the words she felt so passionately about. But what were they? Why couldn't Lissa remember? She must have taken too long to answer because Howard threw his hands up in disgust.

'I knew it. We were idiots to let a little girl on this Council. She has nothing useful to offer. The Dragomirs are gone. They've died with her, and we need to accept that.'

They've died with her. The pressure of being the last of her line had weighed on Lissa since the moment a doctor had told her that her parents and brother had died. The last of a line that had empowered the Moroi and produced some of the greatest kings and queens. She'd vowed to herself over and over