Richelle Mead - The Indigo Spell

Stanton arched an eyebrow at the heart-shaped tub and then settled into a chair by the fire. “No trouble getting here?”

Aside from traveling with a good-looking vampire who thinks he’s in love with me?

“None,” I replied. I regarded Ian with a frown. “I didn’t expect you to be here. I mean, I’m glad you are, but after last time . . .” I paused as something hit me. I looked around. “It’s all of us. All of us that were, uh, under house arrest.”

Stanton nodded. “It was decided that if we’re going to foster good relations between our groups, the Moroi would start by making amends to the three of us specifically.”

Ian scowled and crossed his arms, leaning against a wall. He had brown eyes, with matching brown hair that he wore in a neat haircut. “I don’t want any ‘amends’ from those monsters after what they did to us this summer. I can’t even believe we’re here! This place is crawling with them. Who knows what’ll happen if one of them drinks too much champagne tonight and goes looking for a snack? Here we are, fresh humans.”

I wanted to tell him that was ridiculous, but by Alchemist reasoning, it was a very legitimate concern. And, reminding myself that I didn’t know most of the Moroi here, I realized perhaps his fears weren’t that unfounded.

“I guess we’ll have to stick together,” I said. That was the wrong word choice, judging from Ian’s happy smile.

The Alchemists rarely had social time, and this was no exception. Stanton soon got us down to business, going over our plans for the wedding and what our purpose was here. A file folder provided background on Sonya and Mikhail, as though I knew nothing about them. My mission and history with Sonya were secret from other Alchemists, so, for Ian’s sake, I had to nod along with everything as if it was as new to me as it was to him.

“Festivities will probably last until almost sunrise,” said Stanton, gathering up her papers once she’d finished the briefing. “Ian and I will be departing then and will drop you off at the airport on our way out. You won’t have to spend another night here.”

Ian’s face grew darkly protective. “You shouldn’t have stayed here alone last night. You should have had someone to look after you.”

“I can look after myself,” I snapped, a bit more harshly than I intended. Whether I liked it or not, Ms. Terwilliger’s training had empowered me—literally and figuratively. That, and recent self-defense classes had taught me how to watch out for myself and my surroundings. Maybe Ian meant well, but I didn’t like the idea of him—or anyone—thinking I needed coddling.

“Miss Sage is quite well as you can see,” said Stanton dryly. Ian’s crush had to be obvious to her, and it was equally obvious to me she had no use for such frivolity. Her gaze drifted to the window, which was glowing orange and red with the setting sun. “Well, then. It’s nearly time. Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

They had arrived in their dress clothes, but I still needed to prepare. They talked together while I got ready in the bathroom, but each time I emerged—to get a hairbrush or earrings or something else—I’d see Ian watching me with that sappy look. Great. This was not what I needed.

The wedding was being held in the town’s claim to fame: a huge, indoor garden that defied the wintry conditions outside. Sonya was a huge lover of plants and flowers, and this was pretty much her dream location for a wedding. The glass walls that composed the building were steamed from the drastic difference between inner and outer temperatures. The three of us stepped inside, into an entry area that was used to sell tickets during the greenhouse’s normal operating hours. Here, at last, we found the Moroi that had been hidden to me in daylight.

There were about two dozen of them milling around in this entryway, dressed in rich clothing and eerily beautiful with their slim, pale features. Some were ushers and other attendants, helping organize the event and guide guests into the atrium farther into the building. Most Moroi were simply ordinary guests stopping to sign the guest book or chat with friends and family they hadn’t seen in a long time. Around the sides, dhampirs in neat black and white suits stood sentry, watchful for any sign of danger. Their presence reminded me of a far, far greater threat than some drunken Moroi mistaking us for feeders.

Holding the event at night meant exposing us to attack by Strigoi. Strigoi were a very different type of vampire—so different, in fact, that I almost felt foolish being unnerved in this group. Strigoi were undead, made immortal by killing their victims, unlike the Moroi, who simply drank enough blood from human volunteers to sustain themselves. Strigoi were vicious, fast, and strong—and only came out at night. The sunlight that Moroi found simply uncomfortable was lethal to Strigoi. Strigoi made most of their kills on unwitting humans, but Moroi and dhampirs were their preferred food. An event like this—Moroi and dhampirs crammed into a small space—was practically like offering up a Strigoi buffet.

Eyeing the guardian dhampirs, however, I knew any Strigoi would have a difficult task breaking into this event. Guardians trained hard their entire lives, honing skills to fight Strigoi. Seeing as the Moroi queen was attending this event, I suspected the security I’d seen so far didn’t even begin to scratch the surface.

A number of those gathered here stopped talking when they saw us. Not all Moroi knew about Alchemists or how we worked with their people. So, the attendance of three non-feeder humans was a bit of an oddity. Even those who knew about Alchemists were probably surprised to see us, given the formality of our relationship. Stanton was too experienced to let her unease show, but Ian openly made the Alchemist sign against evil as Moroi and dhampir eyes studied us. I did a pretty good job of keeping my cool but wished there was at least one familiar face in this crowd.

“Miss Stanton?”

A round-cheeked Moroi hurried forward. “I’m Colleen, the wedding coordinator. We spoke on the phone?” She extended a hand, and even tough Stanton hesitated before shaking it.

“Yes, of course,” said Stanton, voice cool and proper. “Thank you for inviting us.” She introduced Ian and me.

Colleen waved us toward the atrium’s entry. “Come, come. We have your seats reserved. I’ll take you there myself.”

She swept us past the curious onlookers. As we entered the atrium, I stopped and momentarily forgot the vampires around us. The main greenhouse was magnificent. The ceiling was high and vaulted, made of that same steamed glass. A central area had been cleared and set with seats draped in flowers, very much like what you’d see at a human wedding. A dais at the front of the seating area was covered in more flowers and was obviously where the couple would take their vows.

But it was the rest of the room that took my breath away. It was like we’d stepped into some tropical jungle. Trees and other plants heavy with brightly colored flowers lined the sides, filling the humid air with a perfume that was almost dizzying. Since there was no sunlight to light up the greenhouse, torches and candles had been cleverly placed throughout the greenery, casting a mysterious—yet still romantic—light on everything. I felt as though I’d stepped into some secret Amazonian ritual space. And of course, nearly hidden among the trees and bushes, black-clad guardians paced and kept watch on everything.

Colleen led us to three seats on the right side of the seating area, marked with a RESERVED sign. They were about halfway back—not as esteemed a spot as family would get, of course, but enough to show that the Moroi thought highly of us and really were trying to undo the strained relationship caused by our detainment.