By the time he found her, he was hanging onto his temper by the thinnest of threads. The slightest thing would snap it, making him lose complete control. He knew this, however, he didn't give a damn.
She was in her private room, the one where they'd spent a brief amount of time catching up only a few days before. The guardians station outside the door tried to stop him from entering—they were… unsuccessful. He was in the grasp of spirit's madness; it took the smallest conscious effort for him to compel them, bending them to his will. Tatiana, his aunt, his Queen, sat in her over-sized recliner, eyes closed, her head resting against its padded back. He stopped, just inside the door, not trusting himself to approach her.
"Your Majesty." He said, his voice heavy with hostility and sarcasm.
Her eyes snapped open; for a moment she looked shocked at the tone of voice he'd used with her. She recovered quickly, her lips curving up in the smile she kept reserved just for him. "Adrian. Shouldn't you be getting ready to leave with the others?
He glared at her from across the room. How could she sit there and act as though she hadn't just destroyed everything he'd worked so long—so hard!—to achieve? "You had to do it, didn't you? You had to threaten her."
Tatiana's face hardened, her lip curling as her smile turned mocking. "Let me guess. The little blood whore came crying to you about the wicked queen."
That's all it took. The thread snapped under the weight of her words—her insult against the one he placed above all others. He was across the room in a flash.
"DON'T CALL HER THAT!" He screamed, inches away from her face.
The Queen of the Moroi world pressed herself against the back of the chair, her eyes darting to the door. Wondering, perhaps, why her loyal guardians had not come charging in like the cavalry. Her eyes flicked back to Adrian, realizing, at once, that he wasn't himself.
"Adrian, darling—"
"You ruined it. She was my friend, and you ruined it. Do you know how long it took me to get that much from her?" He cocked his head, waiting for an answer. When it didn't come, he demanded one. "DO YOU?"
"You're not yourself right now. This behavior is… unacceptable."
He spun away from her, laughing. The sound emerging from him was one not normally heard outside the walls of a madhouse. Tatiana's eyes widened as she watched him pacing—he closed his eyes, tugging at his hair as he mumbled under his breath in a frenzied manner.
He stopped, his chest heaving , eyes still closed as his head twitched in a disconcerting manner. "Why? Why did you do it?"
"The rumors. They're—"
"Just that. Rumors." His voice was husky, almost a whisper. "She was my friend. The first person who didn't like me because I was an Ivashkov. She didn't want anything to do with me, or my money or my family. But I tried. Oh, dear God, I tried. Finally, yesterday, she accepted my friendship, and you destroyed it." He opened his eyes and they locked onto hers like laser beams. "You destroyed me. And any love I had for you."
Her face, normally so stern and unyielding, crumpled—he chin quivering as she struggled to hide how his words wounded her. "No. Don't say that."
"Why not? It's the truth." He closed his eyes again, tilting his head, as if listening to a sound that only he could hear. "I will never court Vasilisa. Never. I'll let the madness take me first. Will that make you happy, Majesty?"
"Adrian," she said, worry evident in her voice, "I think you need a drink."
His eyes shot open, full of emotion. "I do not need a fucking drink!" He stalked towards her, glaring. "What I need is to be allowed to choose my own friends! What I need is to live my own life!"
He slammed his hands down on the arms of her chair, his nails gripping the fabric as he struggled to reign in his anger. He was fighting the urge to choke the life out of the woman before him. A woman that he had always loved like a second mother. His chest was heaving, his jaw tense as he stared into her eyes from mere inches away. "What I need is to be happy, for once in my miserable life. Being Rose's friend made me happy."
She studied his face, and he read her emotions, not only in her aura but in her eyes. Her earlier fear had been replaced by painful sorrow the instant he'd denied loving her. This was her prize—the child she'd never had. She recognized he was struggling with the mania that plagued him, and it filled her with worry. He thought of losing Rose and hot tears filled his eyes; a blink sent them spilling down his pale, smooth cheeks.
"Oh Adrian. Don't. Please don't." Her arms snaked around him, pulling her close, stroking his hair as she had done so many times when he was a small boy in need of comfort.
"She keeps me sane, Auntie. She's my touchstone, and you ruined it."
"If I allow you to be… friends with her, would you do something for me?" She asked.
"What?" He pulled away, wiping at his cheeks. The outpouring of emotions had relieved some of the turmoil within him, helping him regain a hint of control.
"Attend social functions with Vasilisa. Let people think you are courting her. I can't allow rumors to continue circulating about you and the Hathaway girl. Just this morning, Magnus Conta asked if I wanted your baby to be a boy or a girl."
Adrian laughed, and this time it sounded almost normal. "I've never even kissed her. She's in love with… someone else."
"Regardless, the rumors must stop. If you do as I ask, I'll look the other way where your friendship is concerned. For now."
He nodded, leaning forward to place a kiss on her cheek. "I'm sorry. I lost control."
"I know. I love you Adrian. I'm only trying to do what's best for you. Have a drink, then you'd better go, you have a plane to catch."
He complied, all the while thinking that what was best for him was Rosemarie Hathaway. He prayed that someday she'd realize it.