Last Sacrifice

'Right. He's not your biological father,' I said, looking steadily at Jill. The eyes. How had I never noticed the eyes? 'Eric Dragomir is.'

Emily made a low keening sound. 'No,' she begged. 'Please don't do this.'

John's anger morphed back to the confusion that seemed to be so in fashion in this room. 'What?'

'That . . . no.' Jill slowly shook her head. 'That's impossible. My father was just . . . just some guy who ran out on us.'

In some ways, that wasn't far from the truth, I supposed. 'It was Eric Dragomir,' I said. 'You're part of their family. Lissa's sister. You're . . .' I startled myself, realizing I had to look at Jill in a whole new way. 'You're royalty.'

Jill was always full of energy and optimism, operating in the world with a naive hope and charm. But now her face was grim and sober, making her look older than her fifteen years. 'No. This is a joke. My dad was a lowlife. I'm not . . . no. Rose, stop.'

'Emily.' I flinched at the sound of Sonya's voice, surprised to hear her speak. I was more surprised at her expression. Authoritative. Serious. Determined. Sonya was younger than Emily by—what? Ten years, if I had to guess. But Sonya had fixed her cousin with a stare that made Emily look like a naughty child. 'Emily, it's time to give this up. You have to tell her. For God's sake, you have to tell John. You can't keep this buried anymore.'

Emily looked up and met Sonya's eyes. 'I can't tell. You know what will happen . . . I can't do that to her.'

'None of us know what will happen,' said Sonya. 'But things will get worse if you don't take control now.'

After a long moment, Emily finally looked away, staring at the floor. The sad, sad look on her face broke my heart. And not just mine.

'Mom?' asked Jill, voice trembling. 'What's happening? This is all a big mix-up, right?'

Emily sighed and looked up at her daughter. 'No. You are Eric Dragomir's daughter. Rose is right.' John made a small, strangled sound but didn't interrupt his wife. She squeezed his hand again. 'What I told you both over the years . . . it was true. Mostly. We did just have a brief . . . relationship. Not a cheap one, exactly. But brief.' She paused and glanced over at John this time, her expression softening. 'I told you . . .'

He nodded. 'And I told you the past didn't matter to me. Never affected how I felt about you, about Jill. But I never imagined . . .'

'Me neither,' she agreed. 'I didn't even know who he was when we first met. It was back when I lived in Las Vegas and had my first job, dancing in a show at the Witching Hour.'

I felt my eyes go wide. No one seemed to notice. The Witching Hour. My friends and I had been to that casino while hunting for Robert, and a man there had made a joke about Lissa's father being interested in showgirls. I knew Emily worked in a Detroit ballet company now; it was why they lived in Michigan. Never would I have guessed that she'd started as a feather-and-sequin-clad dancer in a Las Vegas show. But why not? She would have had to start somewhere, and her tall, graceful frame would lend itself well to any type of dancing.

'He was so sweet . . . and so sad,' Emily continued. 'His father had just died, and he'd come to sort of drown his sorrows. I understood how a death would devastate him, but now . . . well, I really understand. It was another loss to his family. The numbers were dropping.' She frowned thoughtfully and then shrugged. 'He was a good man, and I think he truly loved his wife. But he was in a dark, low place. I don't think he was using me. He cared about me, though I doubt what happened between us would have in other circumstances. Anyway, I was fine with the way things ended and was content to move on with my life . . . until Jill came along. I contacted Eric because I thought he should know—though I made it clear I didn't expect anything from him. And at that point, knowing who he was, I didn't want anything. If I'd let him, I think he would have acknowledged you, had a role in your life.' Emily's eyes were on Jill now. 'But I've seen what that world is like. Court life is politics and lies and backstabbing. In the end, the only thing I'd accept from him was money. I still didn't want that. I didn't want to feel like I was blackmailing him—but I did want to make sure your future was secure.'

I spoke without thinking. 'You don't really live like you're using that money.' I regretted the words as soon as they were out. Their home was perfectly nice, hardly the depths of poverty. But it also didn't match the funds I'd seen moved around in those bank accounts.

'I'm not,' said Emily. 'It's on hand for emergencies, of course, but mostly I set it all aside for Jill, for her future. To do whatever she wants.'

'What do you mean?' asked Jill, aghast. 'What kind of money are you talking about?'

'You're an heiress,' I said. 'And royalty.'

'I'm not any of those things,' she said. She was frantic now, looking around at all of us. She reminded me of a deer, ready to bolt. 'There's a mistake. You've all made some mistake.'

Emily stood up and walked over to Jill's chair, kneeling on the floor before it. Emily clasped her daughter's hand. 'It is all true. And I'm sorry you have to find out like this. But it doesn't change anything. Our lives aren't going to change. We'll go on just like we have before.'

A range of emotions raced over Jill's features—especially fear and confusion—but she leaned down and buried her face against her mother's shoulder in acceptance. 'Okay.'

It was a touching moment, and again, I almost felt like crying. I'd had my own share of family drama and parental issues. Like before, I wanted the Mastranos to have this moment—but they couldn't.

'You can't,' I told them. 'You can't go on like before. Jill . . . Jill has to go to Court.'

Emily jerked away from Jill and stared at me. Only a second ago, Emily had been full of grief and distress. Now, I saw intense anger and ferocity. Her blue eyes were stormy, fixing me with a sharp glare. 'No. She is not going there. She is never going there.'

Jill had already visited Court before, but both Emily and I knew that I wasn't referring to some casual sightseeing trip. Jill had to go with her true identity. Well—maybe true wasn't the right word. Illicit royalty wasn't part of her nature, at least not yet. She was who she'd always been, but her name had changed. That change had to be acknowledged, and the Moroi Court would be shaken.

'She has to,' I urged. 'The Court's getting corrupted, and the Dragomir family has to play its part to help fix things. Lissa has no power alone, not without a family quorum. All the other royals . . . they're trampling her. They're going to push laws that won't help any of us.'

Emily still knelt by the chair, as though shielding Jill from my words. 'And that's exactly why Jill can't go. It's why I wouldn't let Eric acknowledge her. I don't want Jill involved. That place is poison. Tatiana's murder is proof.' Emily paused and gave me a sharp look, reminding me that I was the chief suspect. Apparently we weren't past that yet. 'All those royals . . . they're vicious. I don't want Jill turning into one of them. I won't let her turn into one of them.'

'Not all royals are like that,' I argued. 'Lissa's not. She's trying to change the system.'

Emily gave me a bitter smile. 'And how do you think the others feel about her reform? I'm sure there are royals who are happy to see her silenced—royals who wouldn't like to see her family reemerge. I told you: Eric was a good man. Sometimes I don't think it's a coincidence their family has died out.'

I gaped. 'That's ridiculous.' But I suddenly wasn't so sure.

'Is it?' Emily's eyes were on me, as though guessing my doubts. 'What do you think they'd do if another Dragomir came forward? The people who oppose Vasilisa? What do you think they'd do if only one person stood between them and her family's power?'

Her implications were shocking . . . yet, I knew they weren't impossible. Glancing over at Jill, I felt an empty, sinking feeling in my stomach. What would I be subjecting her to? Sweet, innocent Jill. Jill wanted adventure out of life and could still barely talk to guys without blushing. Her desire to learn to fight was half-youthful impulse and half-instinct to defend her people. Stepping into the royal world could technically help her people too—though not in a way she'd ever expected. And it would mean getting involved with the dark and sinister nature that sometimes filled the Court.

Emily seemed to read my silence as agreement. A mix of triumph and relief crossed her face, all of which vanished when Jill suddenly spoke up.

'I'll do it.'