Richelle Mead - Bloodlines

Those were things that had definitely been on my mind a lot in the last week, things that were going to take a while to get over. Sometimes, I didn’t feel anything at all. Other times, the reality of what had happened descended on me so swiftly and heavily that I couldn’t breathe. Strigoi nightmares had replaced the ones of re-education centers.

“I’m actually better with it than you might think,” I said slowly, gazing off at nothing particular. “Like, it’s terrible about Lee and what he did, but I feel I can get over it in time. Do you know what I keep thinking about the most, though?”

“What?” asked Adrian gently.

The words seemed to come forth without my control. I hadn’t expected to say them to anyone, certainly not to him.

“Lee telling me I was wasting my life and staying aloof from people. And then, during that last meeting with Keith, he told me that I was naive, that I didn’t understand the world. And it’s true to a certain extent. I mean, not what he said about you guys being evil . . . but well, I was naive. I should’ve been more careful with Jill. I believed the best of Lee when I should’ve been more wary. I’m not a fighter like Eddie, but I am an observer of the world . . . or so I like to think. But I failed. I’m no good with people.”

“Sage, your first mistake in all of this is listening to anything Keith Darnell says. The guy’s an idiot, an asshole, and a dozen other words that aren’t suitable for a lady like yourself.”

“See?” I said. “You just admitted it, that I’m some kind of untouchable, pure soul.”

“I never said any such thing,” he countered. “My point is that you’re leagues above Keith, and what happened with Lee was dumb, ridiculous bad luck. And remember, none of us saw it coming either. You weren’t alone. It casts no reflection on you. Or . . .” His eyebrows rose. “Maybe it does. Didn’t you say that Lee considered killing Keith for Alchemist blood?”

“Yeah . . . but Keith left too soon.”

“Well, there you go. Even a psychopath recognized your worth enough to want to kill someone else first.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

Adrian shrugged. “My earlier point remains. You’re a solid person, Sage. You’re easy on the eyes, if a little skinny, and your ability to memorize useless information is going to totally hook in some guy. Put Keith and Lee out of your head because they have nothing to do with your future.”

“Skinny?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t blushing. I also hoped if I sounded outraged enough, he wouldn’t notice how much the other comment had disarmed me. Easy on the eyes . Not exactly the same as being told I was hotness incarnate or drop-dead gorgeous. But after a lifetime of having my appearance judged as “acceptable,” it was a heady compliment—especially coming from him.

“I just tell it like it is.”

I almost laughed. “Yes. Yes, you do. Now tell me about a different subject, please. I’m tired of this one.”

“Sure thing.” Adrian infuriated me sometimes, but I had to admit, I loved his short attention span. It made dodging uncomfortable topics so much easier. Or so I thought. “Do you smell that?”

An image of the bodies flashed into my head, and for a moment, all I could think he meant was the smell of decay. Then I sniffed more deeply. “I smell the paint, and . . . wait . . . is that pine?”

He looked impressed. “Damn straight. Pine-scented cleaner. As in, I cleaned .” He gestured to the kitchen dramatically. “With these hands, these hands that don’t do manual labor.”

I stared off into the kitchen. “What did you use it on? The cupboards?”

“The cupboards are fine. I cleaned the floor and the counter.” I must have looked more puzzled than amazed because he added, “I even got down on my knees.”

“You used pine cleaner on the floor and counters?” I asked. The floor was ceramic tile; the counters were granite.

Adrian frowned. “Yeah, so?”

He seemed so proud to have actually scrubbed something for once in his life that I couldn’t bring myself to tell him pine cleaner was generally only used on wood. I gave him an encouraging smile. “Well, it looks great. I need you to come over and clean my new dorm room now. It’s covered in dust.”

“No way, Sage. My own housecleaning’s bad enough.”

“But is it worth it? If you’d stayed at Clarence’s, you had a live-in cook and cleaner.”

“It’s definitely worth it. I’ve never really, truly had my own place. I kind of did at Court . . . but it might as well have been an over-glorified dorm room. This? This is great. Even with the housecleaning. Thank you.”

The comic look of horror he’d worn while discussing housecleaning had been traded away for utter seriousness now as those green eyes weighed me. I suddenly felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny and was reminded of the spirit dream, where I’d questioned if his eyes really were that green in real life.

“For what?” I asked.

“For this—I know you must have twisted some Alchemist arms.” I hadn’t told him that I’d actually passed on taking the place for myself. “And for everything else. For not giving up on me, even when I was being a major asshole. And, you know, for that saving my life thing.”

I looked away. “I didn’t do anything. That was Eddie—and Jill. They’re the ones who saved you.”

“Not sure I would’ve been alive for their rescue if you hadn’t set that bitch on fire. How did you do that?”

“It was nothing,” I protested. “Just a, uh, chemical reaction from the Alchemist bag of tricks.”

Those eyes studied me again, weighing the truth of my words. I’m not sure he believed me, but he let it go. “Well, from the look on her face, your aim was right on. And then you got backhanded for it. Anyone who takes a hit for Adrian Ivashkov deserves some credit.”

I turned my back to him, still shy with the praise—and nervous about the fire reference—and walked over to the window. “Yeah, well, you can rest easy that it was a selfish act. You have no idea what a pain it is to file paperwork for a dead Moroi.”

He laughed, and it was one of the few times I’d heard him laugh with genuine humor and warmth—and not because of something twisted or sarcastic. “Okay, Sage. If you say so. You know, you’re a lot spunkier than when I first met you.”

“Really? All the adjectives in the world at your disposable, and you pick ‘spunky’?” Banter I could handle. So long as I focused on that, I didn’t have to think about the meaning behind the words or how my heartbeat had increased just a little. “Just so you know, you’re a little more stable than when I met you.”

He came over to stand by me. “Well, don’t tell anyone, but I think getting away from Court was a good thing. This weather sucks, but Palm Springs might be good for me—it and all the wonders it contains. You guys. Art classes. Pine cleaner.”

I couldn’t help a grin and looked up at him. I’d been half-joking, but it was true: he had changed remarkably since we’d met. There was still a hurting man inside, one who bore the scars of what Rose and Dimitri had done to him, but I could see the signs of healing. He was steadier and stronger, and if he could just continue to hold the course, with no more crises for a while, a remarkable transformation might truly happen.

It took several seconds of silence for me to realize that I’d been staring at him while my mind spun out its thoughts. And, actually, he was staring at me, with a look of wonder.

“My God, Sage. Your eyes. How have I never noticed them?”

That uncomfortable feeling was spreading over me again. “What about them?”