“I was a different person then!” Realizing how loud he’d gotten, Adrian stepped forward and lowered his voice. “You of all people should understand that. Not even a year ago, you were making the sign against evil around us and wouldn’t shake hands because you thought we were the spawn of Satan.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I was right. And don’t even try to compare superstition to . . . to . . . blood rape.”

He winced. “I’m not saying it’s in the same class. I’m saying people change. We grow up, we learn. You know the kind of person I am. You know I wouldn’t even dream of something like that now.”

“Do I?” I tried to summon up as much outrage as I could because if I didn’t, I might start crying. No way would I crack in a room full of Moroi. “Are you saying you wouldn’t drink my blood if you had the chance? That you don’t think about it?”

“No.” He spoke with such certainty that I almost believed him. “The only thing I want from your body is–well, it’s not that. And you should know that.”

I didn’t know that I did. I turned away, trying to come to terms with something that had just knocked my world off‑kilter. I had long ago accepted that he had an extensive romantic past. Surprisingly, it didn’t bother me so much anymore. It was before my time. Those girls were gone. He didn’t love them. He’d been free, and if he’d wanted to fool around with girls who wanted to as well, then that was his right.

And yet . . . here he was, admitting to fooling around with a girl who hadn’t wanted to. “Fooling around” was being kind, considering what he’d done. Drinking blood was probably the biggest sin Moroi committed, in Alchemist eyes. I’d made my peace with it, that it was their way of life, but it still made me squeamish. It was nothing I could watch, and I was always relieved when Jill and Adrian finished at Clarence’s. Now, I couldn’t shake the image of him doing that terrible thing. He embodied every fear Alchemists had about monsters stalking unwitting victims.

“Sydney . . .”

The pain in his voice made my heart ache, but I had no words of comfort to offer. I couldn’t even comfort myself. He said he’d changed, but was that enough? Could that make up for something so horrific?

“Sorry I’m late.” Abe strolled in with a dhampir man I didn’t know, giving me something to look at besides Adrian’s grief‑stricken face. Abe was carrying a crate and wore a bright teal silk scarf. He probably loved that it was winter. “Some of these things aren’t so easy to get a hold of.”

“But you got everything?” asked Lissa eagerly.

“Of course.” Abe gestured grandly to the dhampir beside him. “Including our tattooist, Horace. We’re ready to start when you are.”

It wasn’t until all eyes in the room swiveled in my direction that I realized he was talking to me. For a moment, my mind was blank. Why on earth were they staring at me? What was I supposed to do? The only thing I could think about was Adrian and that dark confession. Then, slowly, the scientist in me stirred. Right. The ink. Measurements, chemicals. I could do that. There was no moral ambiguity there.

Throwing my shoulders back, I strode up to Abe and spoke in a cold voice I hadn’t used in a very long time. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He set out the supplies on a wide table. I examined each one critically and then nodded in satisfaction. “It’s all here.”

“What do you need us to do?” he asked.

“Stay out of my way.”

I pulled up a wooden stool and then took out my cell phone, which contained the exact formula and directions for making the Alchemist ink. A heavy silence fell on us, and I tried to ignore the fact that I had an audience. It had been a long time since I worked with Alchemist substances, though the concentration and diligence weren’t that different from creating spell components. I was simply facilitating chemical reactions instead of magical ones.

It was straightforward Alchemist work, but my hands trembled as I measured and mixed. I had to keep forcing my mind back to the task, away from my broken heart. When they realized the procedure wasn’t going to take five minutes, the group dispersed and talked quietly among themselves, finally giving me some privacy. Rose and Dimitri, thinking I was upset about helping Moroi, stopped by once to tell me what a great thing I was doing. I took their praise with a curt nod.

Sonya came up as I was finishing and offered similar sentiments. “This could be so useful to us, Sydney.”

I glanced up briefly. “I know. I’m glad to help.”

Whatever she saw in my face took her aback. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I looked back down. “Just being at Court and on a weird schedule.”

“It’s more than that. Don’t you think I can tell?”

Yes, of course she could, I thought bitterly. She could probably read the distress in my aura because that’s what she did: peer into others whether they wanted it or not. Boundaries, I was learning, were a negotiable thing among Moroi.

“I saw you talking to Adrian,” she continued. “What did he say to you?” Her voice faltered. “Sydney, I’ve seen things with you two . . .”

I looked back up, and my earlier anger returned. “If you want to help, let me work and forget whatever it is you think you’ve seen.”

She flinched, and I experienced a small pang of regret. Sonya was my friend and probably did have good intentions. I just didn’t want them right now, and after a few more seconds, she backed off.

I completed the suspension and sat back to admire the vial I’d created. It was as perfect as it could get. The others returned, making me feel oppressed and trapped.

“That’s it?” asked Neil. “You can tattoo me now?”

“No.” I pointed to the untouched vial of blood, still in its silver‑bound box. “My suspension needs to sit for a while before we can mix them together.”

Clearly, they hadn’t expected that. “How long?” asked Abe.

“A couple hours should do it.”

Sonya sighed in dismay. “Each hour, the spirit weakens.” She turned to Adrian. “Do you think there’s still enough in it to be useful?”

“There has to be,” he said enigmatically.

“There’s nothing I can do to speed it up,” I explained. “Unless you want to deviate from what we’ve done for hundreds of years.” I was being snippy but couldn’t help it. “I’m going to go back to my room and rest. I’ll come back when it’s time for the next step.”

“Do you want me to walk you?” asked Dimitri. My bad mood was coming through to all of them.

I stood up and carefully placed the duplicate ingredients back in the crate. “Thanks, but I know the way.” I preferred to take my chances walking through Court at night than deal with more good‑intentioned counseling. “Although . . . Abe, if you’ve got a minute, I have a question . . .”

My soliciting Abe caught a few people by surprise, especially Abe. He hid it quickly, though, and his natural sense of curiosity immediately took over. “But of course. Here, let me carry that for you. Or, actually, if you just want to leave it, I’ll take care of them since you didn’t need the duplicate set.”

I held my chin up in an imperious Alchemist way. “These are ingredients used for one of our most important purposes. I can’t leave these behind.”

We walked out, passing Adrian and Nina near the doorway. His heart was in his eyes as he watched me, and he barely seemed to hear Nina worriedly telling him about how Olive and Neil had stayed out late together. I quickly averted my eyes from him, afraid of what I might betray.

The night was crisp and cold and dotted with stars as Abe and I walked out toward guest housing. “So,” he said. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“The ingredients you got me. One of them was Moroi blood.”

“It was on your list, though it seemed strange,” he replied. “I mean, I understand that’s normally in Alchemist tattooing ink, but in our case tonight, we already had a specific blood sample to use. In fact, that was kind of the point.”