Disclaimer: I don't own VA. I do own this plot.
38
"What's this?" my mother asked Lissa as she entered the room accompanied by none other than James Wakefield. I had to admit to some of my own confusion at his presence. While he'd become a permanent fixture in Lissa and Sonya's life over the past month or so he rarely accompanied her places, more often just meeting in her office for lessons or ambling around Court on his own.
"Are you babysitting?" I asked her. "Wasn't it Sonya's day?" That was a bit snippy on my part and I knew it as soon as the words left my mouth but I couldn't help them. I was irate. My back hurt, my bladder was going to explode and I'd been staring through the one way glass at Lord Ivashkov with his perfect suit and 'not a care in the world' demeanor for the past five minutes. Dimitri made a cautionary noise at my tone and I glared at him over my shoulder. Both he and my mother would be interviewing Lord Ivashkov in a few minutes. We'd just been waiting on Lissa to arrive.
"Today is Mommy Sonya's day per the custody agreement," James agreed glibly, "but seeing as she's out of town my other mother gets the pleasure of my company for the day."
I glared at him while Lissa scoffed. James Wakefield had turned out to have a sharp tongue and endless witticisms that rivaled my own once he'd gotten comfortable around us notorious folk. I kind of wished it had stayed hidden.
"Mommy Sonya should have taken you with her. Or put you in daycare," I snapped.
"That's what you're here for!" he smirked. "Besides, you gotta learn about those rebellious teenage years at some point." He pointed to my stomach. "That's a ticking time bomb."
"If I'd whelped you I would have drowned you," I said, deadpan.
"Rose!" Both Dimitri and Lissa admonished me sharply while, to my surprise, my mother suppressed a smile.
"Hormones," James said sagely, obviously unperturbed. "She doesn't really mean it. She just can't stop the verbal vomit, right Rose?"
I stared at him, eyes wide. "Excuse me?"
Never mind that his words were entirely correct. Could he read me that easily?
"That's why I'm here," he offered up.
And then it clicked.
"Get out of my head you little shit!" I made a grab for him but he danced easily out of my way as my larger bulk got in the way. "He can read minds?" I demanded of Lissa, appalled.
She nodded. "We figured it out a few weeks ago," she said. "I remembered what you told me about Oksana and what I felt during that fight with Avery." We both couldn't help but shudder at that reminder. "We've been working on it ever since. He's having some issues controlling it so he hasn't been hanging out with many people lately but I thought we could use that to our advantage with him." Lissa pointed to Lord Ivashkov through the window.
Well, that could be useful. But it was also a huge invasion of privacy. I remembered the invasive brush of minds when Oksana read me and didn't want this snippy Wakefield anywhere near my own private thoughts.
"That could be very useful," Dimitri mused behind me.
I screwed up my face in consternation. "Just point your satellites that way, not at me," I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest and turning away from him. My head was crowded enough with my own thoughts, I didn't need him rattling around in there too.
A few more words were traded before Dimitri and my mother left us in the observation room, door swinging shut deftly behind them. A few moments later the door to the interrogation room opened and they filed in, a wall of guardian austerity, to sit before Lord Ivashkov.
"And to what do I owe this pleasure?" drawled the obviously bored royal. He leaned back in his metal chair and unfastened the button of his jacket, making himself comfortable.
My mother spoke. "There was an attempted assassination of the queen last night," she said in a clipped tone, face giving nothing away.
"Is that supposed to be a question?" Adrian's father demanded.
"Well you don't seem surprised," she noted.
He gave my mother a dry look. "This is Court, Guardian Hathaway. I realize you've spent a great deal of your life in the wilds of Nepal with that disreputable excuse for a Szelsky but around here news travels fast."
"And what are your views on this latest attempt on Her Majesty's life?" Dimitri asked. He could have been asking about the weather in that tone.
"That it obviously wasn't a good one," he responded.
My mother raised an eyebrow. "Do you wish it had been better? Perhaps you think you could have done better."
Nathan Ivashkov exhaled sharply and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. He began to undo his cufflinks.
"I've told you before that I hold no love for the idealistic girl. She has no idea what she's doing. She wears a fancy hat and sits on a big chair but that alone doesn't make you a ruler. She meddles with traditions she ought to leave alone. But do I want her dead? No. And I certainly wouldn't lift a finger to do it myself."
"Are you saying you'd have someone else do it for you?" Dimitri probed.
"I'm saying that while I detest the new political influence from on high I have neither the skills nor the inclination to do her in physically. Political and social sabotage? That I could do. With ease. But I have refrained to this point. I do not like the new policies being implemented however I am not fool enough to think that any other leader would do exactly as I want given the chance. And the last election was rather taxing and personally costly if you do recall. I'd rather not experience another so soon."
"Why are you so against Her Majesty's rule?" my mother asked, ignoring his long winded response.
He glared at her. "She breaks from tradition, need there be more reason? This society has existed for hundreds upon hundreds of years and she decides that she should be the one to change it? I make no effort to hide my displeasure, Guardians. There are royal families for a reason. Historically we have given the most to this society and been entrusted with its rule. And now she wants to give more power to the commoners? To those with no connections of importance and who don't know how to lead? She wants to give guardians to less influential people and leave those of us who earn them unguarded? I have many objections with her choices."
His face had become rather red during his speech and a vein thundered dangerously at his temple.
"You seem very passionate about this, Lord Ivashkov," Dimitri noted. "It may be important to note that you're business has taken you away from Court grounds more frequently as of late. Perhaps cultivating these connections you say royals are so good at. Are you sure that you wouldn't wish to see harm come to Her Majesty?"
"Yes," my mother agreed before he could respond. "As I seem to recall, the queens new proposal for guardian disbursement may take away some of your personal guardians. How do you feel about that? Not well, I'd assume, considering you approached Guardian Welles concerning a bid for a third guardian."
"That proposal is a farce and I have every belief that the Council will reject the preposterous notion! The royal lines have always reserved the right for more protection as we are targeted by Strigoi. They care not for common blood."
"Really?" Dimitri inflected surprise in his voice. "If that were true then why do all of the records of Strigoi attacks paint a different picture? Because, according to our records and those of the Alchemists, only thirteen percent of Strigoi victims are royal Moroi. Twenty-three percent are non-royal's, thirty percent are dhampirs and thirty-four percent are humans. In that respect, I do think you are even less popular than you believe."
I stifled a laugh of my own. Less popular indeed and Dimitri's tone made it clear that he wasn't only speaking about Strigoi food preferences.
"So the question remains, Lord Ivashkov," my mother put in, "in a scenario where your blood is less at risk than even humans why do you believe you merit a third guardian?"
A red flush crept from his collar and up his neck. A white ring appeared around his lips as he fought his impulses.
"My reasons are my own and not under the scrutiny of this pathetic Court," he hissed. "My business is legitimate."
"We wouldn't doubt the legitimacy of your business, Lord Ivashkov, particularly not with all of your connections. In fact, it is those connections we are most interested in," my mother said sardonically. She pulled an envelope—one that she had carried into the room with her and to this point not referenced—towards her and removed a single sheet of paper. "We have been in contact with the Alchemists. They are so good at keeping records, as I'm sure you know." My mothers allusion towards his ex-Alchemist daughter in law might as well of hit on deaf ears for the reaction he showed. He'd long sense disowned Adrian and severed any connections to Sydney. "The records I am referencing, are those of your travels for the past year. You have spent a great deal of time in the St. Paul airport in Minnesota."
She left the statement hang for a moment as the royal's eyes flickered between the two guardians nervously. In comparison, the dhampirs were stalwart in appearance.
"And what is this gross invasion of privacy supposed to suggest?" he raged. "I have many business dealings and St. Paul is a large city. I take many flights through that airport. It proves nothing."
Movement caught the corner of my eye and I glanced over at James Wakefield for the first time since the interview started. His brow had furrowed in concentration.
"He's hiding something," he murmured. "He isn't thinking about it right now and I can't quite dig for it yet but as soon as St. Paul came up his defenses flared. Something about that place has him worried." He hesitated as he studied the man closely. "No. Worried isn't the right word. Whatever it is he's eager for it. Anticipates something. I can't get much from him but I can tell it's about a person and not just business."
Anticipation? Over a person? Marlen?
"Do we have any record of Marlen in the St. Paul area?" I asked Lissa, still watching the scene in the room as my mother and Dimitri needled Nathan Ivashkov further but to no effect.
My hand drifted without consent to my pant pocket where a crinkle of paper alerted me to the message kept there.
I'd received another note from Marlen this morning, slipped under my apartment door. I'd picked it up and shoved it in my pocket before Dimitri saw it. It wouldn't do him any good to see it. It was another in a long line of messages we'd received over the weeks. Its message was only seven words. Seven small words that separate meant nothing, but together sent chills down my spine: You're not safe. We're coming for you.
We as in who? Marlen and Nathan? Marlen and his army?
"No direct links," Lissa answered me. "St. Paul is a fairly popular Strigoi haunt. If Marlen was active in the area it could be obscured by other activity. I'm not saying he wasn't there," she said quickly. "Just that we can't be sure."
I sighed as Dimitri and my mom rose from the table and headed out of the room.
"And as slimy and sneaky as this man is we can't prove he has done anything." I glanced at Wakefield. His face was screwed up in concentration and I could practically see steam coming out of his ears. I felt a flash of sympathy for the boy but I was too far invested in our little spat to show it. "Can't you get anything else from him?" I asked.
He spared me a quick glance. "I'm kind of new at this," he grunted. "It doesn't always work when I want it to."
"You can't control it?" I demanded seeing a new list of potential problems on the horizon. How could this kid be around people without being able to filter out thoughts? He could be useful—or dangerous—to have near the Council. And around Lissa? Damn he could know all the Moroi secrets inside a day.
"He has amazing control considering the time he's spent working on it," Lissa defended. "Its all about practice and learning control. He has a way to go yet but he'll get there."
A new thought popped into my head. No wonder Wakefield had been pretty solitary in his time here if he couldn't control his power. How would he survive at school?
He scoffed, obviously catching that thread of my thoughts. I glared at him.
Lissa knew where my thoughts were, too, not because she read my mind but because she knew it as well as her own.
"He'll be remaining at Court for this school year," she informed me. "While he learns to control his abilities. Sonya and I will be here to help him and he'll have tutors for regular academy curriculum."
"So if you can't control it so well yet what can you do with it?" I demanded snidely.
He didn't rise to the occasion like I'd expected him to. Instead he sighed and explained in a rather diplomatic voice.
"I catch snippets of thoughts. Sometimes just emotions or memories of emotions. With Lord Ivashkov he thought of St. Paul and while I couldn't pull out exact information I could sense memories of anticipation, worry, maybe some fear but definitely excitement. Whatever is there scares but excites him."
"But you could read me," I pointed out.
He shook his head. "I walked into the room and caught your thoughts. I'm not very good at telling who those thoughts come from yet, but I'm starting to hear them. I just knew by the context of the thoughts that they were yours."
"It's a start," Lissa cut in, "and it gave us something we didn't have before."
"What's that?" my mother asked as the door to the observation room swung open and she and Dimitri re-entered. "Because I'm not so sure he gave us anything useful in there, aside from a obvious dislike for you and your politics—which we already knew."
"You were on to something about St. Paul," Lissa informed them.
"He met someone there that's important to him."
"But he was pretty adamant about not wanting Lissa dead," James put in.
"Wouldn't anyone about to be caught arranging a monarchs death deny it?" Dimitri asked.
Wakefield looked uncertain. "I suppose. But I'm not sure that's what I felt from him."
"You just said so yourself that you're not one hundred percent accurate yet," I supplied, moving to Dimitri's side and leaning into his comforting warmth.
He shrugged. "True. But I'm not sold."
"So our next step is to find out about St. Paul," my mother interrupted. "Find out who he's meeting there, how they met, and why he keeps going back."
"And how are we going to do that?" Lissa asked.
My mind was whirling with the turn of events and the complication of getting Nathan Ivashkov to cooperate. That in and of itself was unlikely so the next step would be to go there and figure it out for ourselves.
And that's when I knew what we had to do.
James, still unable to keep his pesky powers off my brain, laughed at my sudden idea. "Brilliant," he chortled.
Our three companions looked between the two of us, curious.
"What has you two agreeing?" demanded Lissa.
"I think," I said slowly, "that its time Lord Ivashkov got his third guardian."