His one eyebrow shot up. "You are saying . . . ask Ylenia Dragomir on a date?"
No, I didn't wanna say that. But I nodded. "Yeah. Kinda."
He shook his head, hard, and pulled his hand away. "Mindy Sue, I have already wronged her. I cannot play with her like a toy." He looked down at those stakes we weren't talking about. "Especially when I am damned. Especially when I do not believe that she has done anything worse than be lonely!"
"Look, Raniero..." I kinda gagged on my own words, 'cause suddenly I knew I was saying something that was completely different from my original idea—but probably true, too. "Even if you don't believe that she's scary, like I do—especially if you don't believe that—maybe, just to do the right thing, you oughta at least apologize and let her decide whether she wants anything to do with you." I couldn't look at him anymore. "Maybe, given how important what you guys did together is ... maybe, just maybe, you owe it to each other to at least talk."
"Mindy Sue..." He seemed shocked by what I was saying.
Was it 'cause I was really pushing him away then? Not like when I used to break up with him, expecting him to come back, or even telling him to hang out with a girl so he could get the lowdown on her evil schemes, but honestly suggesting that if he didn't believe Ylenia was a conniving bitch, he probably owed her something. Maybe a chance to be together.
All of a sudden, it wasn't just a plan to help Jess that we were talking about.
It was eternity. Forever.
"You truly believe that I do the wrong thing by never bringing up this terrible evening again?" he asked. His voice was very low. "That I am wrong to keep distance between myself and Ylenia—and give her freedom from me?"
I kept staring at the floor. "Yeah. Probably." I felt the tears starting in my eyes, but I made myself look at him. "If you'd bit me like that, I woulda at least wanted you to try to get to know me. To give us a chance and not make it like the world's worst one-night stand."
He shook his head. "There is no 'chance.' No future. Especially not in this place."
"If you really believe she's innocent and sweet," I said again, "then you gotta give her a chance to decide that, too."
Raniero's eyes went through a million changes. I couldn't even tell what he was thinking, but all of a sudden he seemed to make up his mind, and he said, "If this is what you believe to be right—for whatever reason is in your heart—then I will do as you ask. I will at least speak to her, and see if she has any wish to take the mistake which we already make and drag it even farther, together."
He stood up and walked to the door, kicking through the sawdust. I couldn't tell if he was mad at me, or mad at himself—or not mad at all. He just seemed ... cold. Totally shut off.
"Where are you going?"
"We are going to your room," he said. "It is time that this transformation I begin reaches its conclusion. There is no turning back now."
I followed him out the door, and it was a long, long time before I realized I never asked him about those stakes on the floor, even though I almost tripped over 'em again, 'cause of the tears that were still in my eyes.
Chapter 87
Antanasia
"VA MULTUMESC." I pulled the earbuds out of my ears and pushed aside my workbook and iPod, which I'd loaded with Fluent in Five, to make room on the vanity for the tray the servant carried. "Va rog. Sticla. Masa." I only used a few words, "please," "bottle," and "table," but I also did some pointing, so she understood and placed the blood and small silver cup where I wanted them.
"Va multumesc." Lucius might not have thanked her twice, like me, but I was definitely getting better about giving direction. The servant used a tarnished pewter tool, like an ancient corkscrew, to open the bottle, but before she could pour, I dismissed her with "Esti demis."
Bowing silently, she left the room and I took over, pouring a liberal dose of the blood I'd ordered. I still didn't want to do this, but I needed to be strong for the meeting I'd called that afternoon. I lifted the cup, sniffing the contents. The thick liquid wasn't as pungent as the blood Dorin had brought for me, and I could smell the mix of herbs that were used, along with the tight cork, to keep it from coagulating in the bottle. But while this blood wasn't as offensive to my nose, it didn't have the heady, delicious smell of Lucius's, either, and I didn't drink right away. I was a little relieved when someone knocked on the door so I could set down the cup.
"Come in. Intra!"
"Antanasia, you look lovely." Dorin slipped into the room and closed the door. "Very regal!"
I stood straighter in the dark suit I'd chosen. "Thanks. I want to look like I mean business."
"You do, you do!" He frowned. "But why are you assembling the Elders? The whole estate is buzzing with curiosity." He twisted his hands. "Is there some news? Have you discovered anything about Claudiu?"
I wanted to tell my uncle everything, but Raniero's words about surprise being a weapon held me back, just like his hand had done in the dungeon. It wasn't that I needed to surprise my own uncle, but he had trouble keeping secrets. "I just think it's time to move forward," I said vaguely. "And show that I'm in charge."
"Well, I suppose that's good." Dorin crossed the room to join me and frowned again when he saw the bottle on my vanity. "But what is this?" I noticed then that he carried a bag tucked in the crook of his arm, and he opened it and pulled out a bottle of his own. One that was dark green and labeled by hand. Franta 1977. He bent to peer closely at the blood I'd ordered—which was also labeled, Romania 1872— then straightened and shook his head. "No, Antanasia. I have brought you something better. You don't know how to order yet. This blood will not taste good. Romanian blood from that time is legendarily bad." He started to move the cup away, but I stopped his hand, and was surprised to find that even just dealing with me, when Lucius was nowhere around, he was a little shaky.
Did he always tremble?
"I'll just drink this," I said. "I don't really care how it tastes. But thanks anyhow."
But Dorin went ahead and opened his bottle with a twist of his right hand, still shaking his head. "No, no ... This is much better." As soon as he yanked out the cork, I could smell the strong, bitter, sour scent that apparently marked "good" blood, and I cringed at the thought of drinking it. Dorin seemed oblivious, and he started to reach for my cup again, like he was going to pour out my Romanian vintage. "I told you long ago, Siberian is best! Fit for a princess!"
I stopped his hand again, suddenly frustrated. If I really was a princess, why couldn't I have what I wanted? "No, Dorin. I ordered this. And I want this. If I can't have Lucius, I want blood that doesn't make me gag."
It was one of the few times I'd come close to treating Dorin like anything but an advisor—as an equal, if not a superior—and the dismayed, almost panicked look on his face didn't help me get down the mild Romanian blood I poured over my tongue. I still wanted to choke when I drank it, but I didn't feel as guilty. I wasn't betraying Lucius. I was saving him.
At least, I hoped I was, because as of that afternoon, the clock would start ticking toward his trial.
Chapter 88
Mindy
ME AND RANIERO didn't talk at all while I got ready to cut his hair.
He got the chair from the little vanity in my room, like a mini version of Jess's, plunked it down in the middle of the floor, and pulled off his shirt again, like he knew there was gonna be a lotta hair falling. Then he straddled the chair backwards and crossed his beautiful tanned arms over the back, while I shook out one of the Vladescus's thick white towels and put it around his shoulders, knowing it was probably the last time I'd ever touch them.
Then I got the kit I usually used to make Jess gorgeous, found my professional-quality scissors, and dug my hand into his thick waves.
Just do what you always wanted to do, Min. Give him the cut you always dreamed about.
"I'm gonna—"
"Do as you wish," he interrupted me. "I am certain that it will be good, for you have a talent for this. An
d I know that you always wish to cut my hair."
That was all we said.
I always did want him to have shorter hair, so why did it hurt so bad when I made that first cut, taking off about six inches, so his hair was above his ears? Why did it suck so bad to make him even more beautiful?
Because you're not making him beautiful, Mindy. He was beautiful to begin with.
I got this choking feeling in my throat, but I kept cutting. Taking off more and more of the brown waves that were highlighted by the sun, and it was like I was cutting away the beach that he loved. Throwing the waves and the sun right on the floor, so they were just ... garbage. More stupid sawdust. I was carving him into a stake. Finishing up making him an assassin again. Making him somebody he didn't wanna be—for some other girl.
He sat very still, but it wasn't like he was meditating. I could tell he was all tense inside, even though I couldn't look in his eyes. I just focused on his hair and the way I was tapering it in the back to show off how strong his neck was. He wouldn't be able to hide that anymore, or make a ponytail...
When the basic shape was in place—a tight cut in the back, a little longer in the front, so what was left of his waves would frame those eyes I couldn't look at—I got my straight razor and made everything ... perfect.
Perfectly awful.
I had never cut anybody's hair without being able to look at their face, but I didn't need to see him. He looked hotter than any model. And it was hideous.
"I think that's it." I stepped back and stared at the floor. "You're done!"
But he grabbed my hand, so I almost dropped the razor. "No. Not yet."
I finally looked into his eyes. His wonderful gray eyes, which were getting so hard again. Even harder than they'd been when I'd stopped him outside Jess's room and he'd pushed me away. "What else?"
"Shave my face."
"No..." He wasn't going to lose his goatee, too. And he could do that himself, if he really wanted to. If I shaved him, I'd have to hold his jaw and look at every inch of the face I'd never touch again, either. The one I was helping to totally ruin. "I don't wanna."
He gripped me harder, and it was the closest he ever came to hurting me—like, in a physical way. "Please. Just finish what you start."
I stared at him for about a minute and he stared back till I gave up and tugged free from his hand. "Okay."
Then I went into the bathroom and I couldn't look at my own ugly face while I got a cup of water and the little tube of shave gel I brought for my legs. When I went back into the bedroom, he was still sitting very still, and I dipped my fingers in the water and put a little bit on his cheeks, feeling the stubble. Then I squeezed some gel onto my fingers, too, and I stroked it over his whole face. His skin was so rough, and it felt so good under my fingertips. I wanted to touch him like that for hours. Throw away the stupid shaving cream and just touch him...
I couldn't help looking at his eyes again, to see if he felt it, too, but he had closed them. Shut himself off from me totally.
I grabbed my razor again. "This might hurt."
Hurt me. Hurt us both.
"I am used to pain," he said, without opening his eyes. "This will be nothing."
"Okay." I took his jaw in my hand and started to drag the razor down his cheeks, and my fingers shook so bad I was terrified I would slice him to bits. But somehow I did it. I made line after line in the lather, and before long the goatee I'd always hated was gone. He hadn't even cringed the couple times I'd tugged at the hair and left nicks on his skin.
I stepped back and looked at the floor again. "You're totally done."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him yank the towel off his shoulders, flip it to the clean side, and start wiping away the little patches of foam that were still on his face. He stood up while he did it and then pulled on Lucius's shirt.
"How do I look, Mindy Sue?"
I didn't have any choice but to finally really look at him, head to toe. And what I saw almost made me sob. I shoulda been an Italian Renaissance artist, 'cause the vampire that stood before me was way more incredible than any statue. His body had always been perfect, but when he finally really stood in a way that showed off just how powerful he was, it made me suck in a big breath. Knocked the wind out of me. Without his scruffy beard, I could see his jaw, and even that had muscle. And his short hair showed off his cheekbones and shoulders and his eyes ... His eyes...
"Oh, Raniero!" I kinda gasped in admiration—and cried at the same time.
"It is good, yes?" he asked. "You create in me the vampire of your dreams? The Raniero you always wish for?"
No, I didn't do that at all. I wanted the old Ronnie back. This new one ... I didn't like his eyes at all. They were hard but filled with pain, and he was mad, too. "I don't know, Raniero..."
He knew how he looked, though. He knew that every girl in a fancy concert hall would turn and look at him again.
Had a part of him always hated me for wanting him to change? As much as I hated myself now?
"Thank you, Mindy Sue," he said, like there had never been anything between us. Like I'd totally cut that away, too.
"You're welcome." I couldn't think of anything else to say.
He tossed the towel on the floor, leaving the mess for the maids, and headed for the door, and right before he left, I had to know.
"Raniero?" I could hear the stupid tears in my voice again. "Why ... why didn't you ever offer to bite me?"
"I loved you too much to bring you into this world that I am reentering," he said. "I did not wish to force it upon you, when you were clearly uncertain how you felt for me. I wait for you to ask, at the time that is right for you. But of course, that time never comes, until too late."
Raniero always mixed up tenses, but I noticed he was very clear about saying "loved," not "love."
All along, he was waiting for me. But now it really is way too late.
"Thank you, Mindy Sue," he said again. "Thank you for the haircut, and for showing me that I have been wrong in my treatment of Ylenia. I have not seen from her perspective."
I couldn't say "You're welcome" again. I just let him leave, then got down on my hands and knees and started sweeping up the hair, 'cause I couldn't wait for the maids, either. I had to get that mess out of there, 'cause what had started out as a plan to catch Ylenia Dragomir doing something bad had turned into me handing over the guy I loved to a girl who already had a claim on him, forever.
That hair really did feel like sawdust in my hands.
Chapter 89
Raniero
LUCIUS—
It is my pleasure to bend your rules farther than you intend and to look in upon you now and then—if only to see how the rat fares. And I did bring your wife, too. Do not worry. You are not seeing things ... yet.
I know that you struggle to think clearly, but is there anything which you can recall from the night upon which I become a damned vampire? Any detail which you have not shared with me, specialmente regarding Ylenia Dragomir?
In the meantime, know that the trial date is to be set today. Your wife, who gains power as you weaken, has called a meeting of the Elders to make the announcement. Stay strong, brother. R
Chapter 90
Antanasia
THERE WAS A part of me that wished Dara Packwood could be there to hug me, like she'd done before every one of my math and 4-H competitions, but I shook that off and squared my shoulders. And as always happened, the doors opened on a cue that apparently I didn't even need to know, and I found myself facing a long table flanked by vampires who'd seen me do nothing but fail.
But that was going to change. Or if I did fail, I would go down fighting, like I'd promised Raniero.
Stepping into the room, I looked at them one by one, and as I met their shrewd, cold eyes, I was suddenly keenly aware of a mistake I'd made, ever since joining their ranks.
This small part of me had wanted them to like me, as if I'd transferred to a new high school instead of become their r
uler. Or if I hadn't exactly wanted them to like me, I'd at least hoped they'd accept me into their clique, even as the lowest girl, kept on the margins.
As I locked eyes with Flaviu, though, and saw his disdain for me and his hunger for power, I knew that of course we would never like each other. He was a vicious vampire from a line of vicious vampires, and he was almost certainly trying to ruin, if not end, Lucius's and my lives.
A queen has few friends, my birth mother had tried to warn me in her journal. If she has many, she is almost surely doing something wrong.
As I continued to meet Flaviu's eyes, I also recalled how Lucius had strode through the cafeteria on one of his first days at high school. I'd felt bad when students edged away from him, but he had seemed gratified by what he perceived as deference to his superiority.
It's all about perception, I told myself. Mine—and theirs.
And without taking my eyes off Flaviu's, I made my first impromptu change of plans, walking not toward my usual seat at the foot of the table, but directly to Lucius's chair at the head, where—without sitting down—I announced very clearly, "I have convened you here to set Lucius's trial date—for two days from today."
My words set off a chorus of muttering—hopefully nervous on Flaviu's part. And Lucius's uncle did look a little pale. But I knew that mo st of those vampires were excited at the prospect of seeing a prince almost certainly get destroyed.
I took my seat then, and although I was tired of his endless fear, I looked out of habit at Uncle Dorin—and I probably shouldn't have been surprised to see that he seemed even whiter and more shocked than Flaviu.
Chapter 91
Antanasia
"ANTANASIA, ARE ... ARE you certain you wish to do this?" Dorin sputtered. I knew he was terrified that I was risking losing the love of my life, even if he didn't like Lucius. "Is there some pressing reason? Has something changed?"