Approaching the runway, he recognized the three figures just ahead of him, walking slowly towards the small group waiting to board the plane. Lissa, apparently spotting her boyfriend, broke away to join him, leaving Rose and Belikov alone.
He watched them, noticing how as soon as Lissa left their presence they slowed even more, as if cherishing a brief stolen moment—albeit a public one—together. With each step their bodies moved closer, until their arms brushed against each other, each sneaking a glance at the other from time to time. The group by the plane was clueless as to what was happening, each one lost in their own thoughts or chatter.
Rose looked up, saying something that made him stop several feet away from the gathering.
They spoke softly for a few minutes, and then he smiled down at her, his face full of tenderness.
It made Adrian want to puke.
Belikov's laughter drew a few questioning glances from the other guardians—glances that Alberta noticed, a worried look to flashing across her face. The two lovebirds didn't notice of course, too wrapped up in whatever they were discussing to notice the world around them.
He stomped past them, shooting them an evil look, and began to complain about having to stand around waiting in the cold. Even his loud ranting didn't manage to break apart their disgusting little love fest. They kept right on murmuring back and forth, their heads leaning closed together with every passing minute. Alberta's worried look had intensified, because the assembled guardians' attention was still focused on Belikov and Rose and the soft, lingering looks they were giving each other.
The flight attendant opened the door, indicating they could commence boarding, and Adrian saw his chance to capture the attention that was focused on the twosome. Letting out a loud whoop, he made a display of himself, chattering away senselessly about being able to board.
It obviously worked—the guardians all glared at him, Belikov and Rose forgotten, for the moment. As soon as he was on the plane he demanded—and almost immediately received—a tumbler of scotch. He was still feeling lingering traces of spirit, and that—coupled with the irritation he'd felt when witnessing the little display Belikov and Rose had put on—could mean trouble. Especially once they became airborne. It wouldn't be good if he drifted into lala land at 30,000 feet.
He realized Lissa had been rambling for a few minutes, regaling everyone with the latest exciting news. When she announced the Queen had requested an audience with Rose, for the sole purpose of 'praising' her, he glanced at Rose, confused. Why hadn't she confided in Lissa? Surely she'd warn her best friend about the Queens little plan, to say nothing about the threats she'd made. Rose's face was expressionless, giving nothing away, even when their eyes met. Interesting. Maybe she was keeping it a secret so as not to burst her best friend's happy bubble.
Lissa then told them about the offer to live at Court and go to college at Lehigh. "I still can't believe it," she mused. "It sounds too good to be true."
Adrian emptied his glass, indicating to the flight attendant he needed another. "Coming from my great-aunt? It is too good to be true." He took the drink from the girl with a nod of thanks.
"What do you mean?" Rose asked. "Is Lissa in trouble?"
"What, bodily? Nah. It's just, my great-aunt doesn't do things out of the kindness of her heart. Well," he amended, "sometimes she does. She's not a total bitch. And I think she means it about worrying about the Dragomirs. I've heard she liked your parents. But as to why she's doing this … I don't know. You've got radical ideas. Maybe she does want to hear different opinions. Or maybe she wants to keep an eye on you, keep you from causing trouble."
Christian looked pissed. "He's right. They could be trying to rein you in. You should go live with Aunt Tasha. You don't have to go to a Moroi school."
"But she'll be safer if she does," Rose offered.
She looked like she was about to say something more, but as the plane took off, gaining altitude, her face wrinkled up in a grimace. A quick scan of her aura showed she was in pain—again.
"Son of a bitch," she groaned, putting her hand to her forehead.
"You're sick again?" asked Lissa, worried. Rose nodded.
"Have you always had trouble flying?" He asked, gesturing for someone to refill his drink. If he could still see auras, he definitely needed more lubrication. Maybe he should switch to Patròn—tequila might work faster.
"Never," Rose said. "Damn it. I don't want to go through this again." Her jaw tensed as she squeezed her eyes shut, letting her head lean against the window.
He watched her, wishing he could do something to alleviate her pain. He couldn't—if Lissa's powerhouse healing mojo didn't work, then his meager skills would be absolutely useless. His eyes shifted as he turned around, locking with a fierce brown gaze that was shooting daggers at him. Belikov obviously didn't like him looking at Rose. Too damn bad. As far as he was concerned, the Russian could take a flying fuck at a rolling donut. He chuckled, imagining what the expression on the other man's face would be if he'd actually voiced his thoughts aloud. With that pleasant image in his head, he leaned back, drifting into a light doze.
The sound of Alberta's voice jerked him awake a few hours later. She'd claimed the seat across the aisle from him again—apparently they were best friends now. "What's wrong?"
"An ice storm just blew through the area," the flight attendant answered. "We can't land at St. Vladimir's because the runway isn't accessible with the ice and the winds. We need fuel, however, so we're going to land at Martinville Regional. It's a small airport a few hours away by car, but they weren't as affected as much. Our plan is to land there, refuel, and then fly into the Academy once they've cleared the runway. It's less than an hour by air."
He sighed in frustration as he buckled himself in, preparing for landing. What the hell else could go wrong today?
As soon as the plane touched the ground, he had his answer. His little dhampir whimpered, jerking his head around. Her eyes were flicking from side to side, wide and fearful, like a terrified horse.
"Rose?" He struggled with his seat belt, trying to unbuckle it. "You okay?"
She let out the most blood curdling scream imaginable, followed by another, and kept on screaming.
"Make them go away!" She yelled. "Make them go away!"
Her hands clawed at her seat belt, and she jerked upright, waving her arms as she screamed, begging someone to help her. By the time he—and of course Belikov—reached her side, she'd collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
He paced the hallway outside of Alberta's dorm room. It had been hell, waiting for Rose to wake up. She remained unconscious until they were in the air again, and then she seemed to drift in and out, making small whimpers or thrashing about. He'd tried to contact her in a dream, but she wasn't dreaming. Or else he'd indulged in so much damned alcohol he was useless—which was probably the case.
Belikov had stationed himself beside her the entire time, not letting Adrian approach her. When the Russian growled at him, Alberta intervened, dragging Adrian back to his seat. She'd probably been afraid the two men would start snapping at each other like male dogs fighting over a bitch in heat.
Upon landing, Belikov had immediately scooped Rose up and run for the clinic—with Alberta following on his heels, trying to keep up with his abnormally long strides.
Poor Lissa was in a panic, not even Christian seemed able to console her. Finally, Adrian had saved the day, sending her to her room with the promise he'd find out what was happening. He knew better than to go near the clinic—Belikov would throw him out—so here he waited, dying for a cigarette, praying that his little Rosebud would be alright.