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worry now about what you can 't change. Rest when you can so you'll be ready for tomorrow's battles. The imaginary advice calmed

me. Sleep came at last, heavy and deep. I'd tossed and turned a lot this week, so true rest was welcome.

Then—I woke up.

I sat upright in bed, my heart pounding. Peering around, I looked for danger—any threat that might have startled me out of that

sleep. There was nothing. Darkness. Silence. The faint squeak of a chair down the hall told me my guards were still around.

The bond, I realized. The bond had woken me up. I'd felt a sharp, intense flare of . . . what? Intensity. Anxiety. A rush of adrenaline.

Panic raced through me, and I dove deeper into Lissa, trying to find what had caused that surge of emotion from her.

What I found was . . . nothing.

The bond was gone.

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THREE THREE

THREETHREE

WELL, NOT GONE EXACTLY.

Muted. Kind of like how it had felt immediately after she'd restored Dimitri back to a dhampir. The magic had been so strong then

that it had "burned out" our link. There was no blast of magic now. It was almost as though the blankness was intentional on her part.

Like always, I still had a sense of Lissa: she was alive; she was well. So what was keeping me from feeling more of her? She wasn't

asleep, because I could feel a sense of alert consciousness on the other side of this wall. Spirit was there, hiding her from me . . . and

she was making it happen.

What the hell? It was an accepted fact that our bond worked only one way. I could sense her; she couldn't sense me. Likewise, I

could control when I went into her mind. Often, I tried to keep myself out (jail captivity time excluded), in an attempt to protect her

privacy. Lissa had no such control, and her vulnerability infuriated her sometimes. Every once in a while, she could use her power to

shield herself from me, but it was rare, difficult, and required considerable effort on her part. Today, she was pulling it off, and as the

condition persisted, I could feel her strain. Keeping me out wasn't easy, but she was managing it. Of course, I didn't care about the

how of it. I wanted to know the why.

It was probably my worst day of imprisonment. Fear for myself was one thing. But for her? That was agonizing. If it was my life or

hers, I would have walked into execution without hesitation. I had to know what was going on. Had she learned something? Had the

Council decided to skip right over a trial and execute me? Was Lissa trying to protect me from that news? The more spirit she

wielded, the more she endangered her life. This mental wall required a lot of magic. But why? Why was she taking this risk?

It was astonishing in that moment to realize just how much I relied on the bond to keep track of her. True: I didn't always welcome

someone else's thoughts in my head. Despite the control I'd learned, her mind still sometimes poured into mine in moments I'd rather

not experience. None of that was a concern now—only her safety was. Being blocked off was like having a limb removed.

All day I tried to get inside her head. Every time, I was kept out. It was maddening. No visitors came to me either, and the book and

magazines had long since lost their appeal. The caged animal feeling was getting to me again, and I spent a fair amount of time

yelling at my guards—with no results. Tatiana's funeral was tomorrow, and the clock to my trial was ticking loudly.

Bedtime came, and the wall in the bond dropped at last—because Lissa went to sleep. The link between us was firm, but her mind

was closed off in unconsciousness. I'd find no answers there. Left with nothing else, I went to bed as well, wondering if I'd be cut off

again in the morning.

I wasn't. She and I were linked again, and I was able to see the world through her eyes once more. Lissa was up and around early,

preparing for the funeral. I neither saw nor felt any sign of why I'd been blocked the day before. She was letting me back into her mind,

just like normal. I almost wondered if I 'd imagined being cut off from her.

No . . . there it was. Barely. Within her mind, I sensed thoughts she was still hiding from me. They were slippery. Each time I tried to

grasp them, they fell out of my hands. I was amazed she could still use enough magic to pull it off, and it was also a clear indication

that she'd blocked me out intentionally yesterday. What was going on? Why on earth would she need to hide something from me?

What could I do about anything, locked in this hellhole? Again, my unease grew. What awful thing didn't I know about?

I watched Lissa get ready, seeing no ostensible sign of anything unusual. The dress she'd ended up selecting had cap sleeves and

went to the knee. Black, of course. It was hardly a clubbing dress, but she knew it would raise some eyebrows. Under different

circumstances, this would have delighted me. She chose to wear her hair down and unbound, its pale blond color showing brightly

against the dress's black when she surveyed herself in a mirror.

Christian met Lissa outside. He cleaned up well, I had to admit, uncharacteristically wearing a dress shirt and tie. He'd drawn the

line at a jacket, and his expression was an odd mix of nervousness, secrecy, and typical snark. When he saw Lissa, though, his face

momentarily transformed, turning radiant and awestruck as he gazed at her. He gave her a small smile and took her into his arms for a

brief embrace. His touch brought her contentment and comfort, easing her anxiety. They'd gotten back together recently after a

breakup, and that time apart had been agonizing for both of them.

"It's going to be okay," he murmured, his look of worry returning. "This'll work. We can do this."

She said nothing but tightened her hold on him before stepping back. Neither of them spoke as they walked to the beginning of the

funeral procession. I decided this was suspicious. She caught hold of his hand and felt strengthened by it.

The funeral procedures for Moroi monarchs had been the same for centuries, no matter if the Court was in Romania or its new

home in Pennsylvania. That was the Moroi way. They mixed the traditional with the modern, magic with technology.

The queen's coffin would be carried by pallbearers out of the palace and taken with great ceremony all through the Court's grounds,

until it reached the Court's imposing cathedral. There, a select group would enter for mass. After the service, Tatiana would be buried

in the church's graveyard, taking her place beside other monarchs and important royals.

The coffin's route was easy to spot. Poles strung with red and black silk banners marked each side. Rose petals had been strewn

on the ground the coffin would pass over. Along the sides, people crammed together, hoping to catch a glimpse of their former queen.

Many Moroi had come from far off places, some to see the funeral and some to see the monarch elections that would soon follow over

the next couple of weeks.

The royal family escort—most of whom wore saleswoman-approved black velvet—were already heading into the palace building.

Lissa stopped outside to part ways with Christian since he certainly had never been in the running to represent his family for such an

honored event. She gave him another fierce hug and a light kiss. As they stepped away, there was a knowing glint in his blue eyes

—that secret that was hidden from me.

Lissa pushed through the gathering crowds, trying to get to the entrance and find the procession's starting point. The building didn't

look like the palaces or castles of ancient Europe. Its grand stone facade and tall windows matched the Court's other structures, but a

few features—its height, wide marble steps—subtly distinguished it from other buildings. A tug at Lissa's arm stopped her progress,

nearly causing her to run into an ancient Moroi man.

"Vasilisa?" It was Daniella Ivashkov, Adrian's mother. Daniella wasn't so bad as royals went, and she was actually okay with Adrian

and me dating—or at least, she had been before I became an accused murderer. Most of Daniella's acceptance had come from the

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fact that she believed Adrian and I would split up anyways once I received my guardian assignment. Daniella had also convinced one

of her cousins, Damon Tarus, to be my lawyer—an offer I'd rejected when I chose Abe to represent me instead. I still wasn't entirely

sure if I'd made the best decision there, but it probably tarnished Daniella's view of me, which I regretted.

Lissa offered up a nervous smile. She was anxious to join the procession and get all of this over with. "Hi," she said.

Daniella was dressed in full black velvet and even had small diamond barrettes shining in her dark hair. Worry and agitation lined

her pretty face. "Have you seen Adrian? I haven't been able to find him anywhere. We checked his room."

"Oh." Lissa averted her eyes.

"What?" Daniella nearly shook her. "What do you know?"

Lissa sighed. "I'm not sure where he is, but I saw him last night when he was coming back from some party." Lissa hesitated, like

she was too embarrassed to tell the rest. "He was . . . really drunk. More than I've ever seen him. He was going off with some girls, and

I don't know. I'm sorry, Lady Ivashkov. He's probably . . . well, passed out somewhere."

Daniella wrung her hands, and I shared her dismay. "I hope nobody notices. Maybe we can say . . . he was overcome with grief.

There's so much going on. Surely no one will notice. You'll tell them, right? You'll say how upset he was?"

I liked Daniella, but this royal obsession with image was really starting to bug me. I knew she loved her son, but her main concern

here seemed to be less about Tatiana's final rest than it was about what others would think about a breach of protocol. "Of course,"

said Lissa. "I wouldn't want anyone to . . . well, I'd hate for that to get out."

"Thank you. Now go." Daniella gestured to the doors, still looking anxious. "You need to take your place." To Lissa's surprise,

Daniella gave her a gentle pat on the arm. "And don't be nervous. You'll do fine. Just keep your head up."

Guardians stationed at the door recognized Lissa as someone with access and allowed her in. There, in the foyer, was Tatiana's

coffin. Lissa froze, suddenly overwhelmed, and nearly forgot what she was doing there.

The coffin alone was a work of art. It was made of gleaming black wood, polished to brilliance. Paintings of elaborate garden

scenes in shining metallic colors of every hue adorned each side. Gold glittered everywhere, including the poles that the pallbearers

would hold. Those poles were draped with strings of mauve roses. It seemed like the thorns and leaves would make it difficult for the

pallbearers to get a good grip, but that was their problem to deal with.

Inside, uncovered and lying on a bed of more mauve roses, was Tatiana herself. It was strange. I saw dead bodies all the time. Hell,

I created them. But seeing a body that had been preserved, lying peacefully and ornamentally . . . well, it was creepy. It was strange for

Lissa, too, particularly since she didn't have to deal with death as often as I did.

Tatiana wore a gleaming silk gown that was a rich shade of purple—the traditional color for royal burial. The dress's long sleeves

were decorated with an elaborate design of small pearls. I'd often seen Tatiana in red—a color associated with the Ivashkov family

—and I was glad for the purple burial tradition. A red dress would have been too strong a reminder of the bloody pictures of her that I'd

seen at my hearing, pictures I kept trying to block out. Strings of gemstones and more pearls hung around her neck, and a gold crown

set with diamonds and amethysts rested upon her graying hair. Someone had done a good job with Tatiana's makeup, but even they

couldn't hide the whiteness of her skin. Moroi were naturally pale. In death, they were like chalk—like Strigoi. The image struck Lissa

so vividly that she swayed on her feet a little and had to look away. The roses' scent filled the air, but there was a hint of decay mixed in

with that sweetness.

The funeral coordinator spotted Lissa and ordered her into position—after first bemoaning Lissa's fashion choice. The sharp words

snapped Lissa back to reality, and she fell in line with five other royals on the right side of the coffin. She tried not to look too closely at

the queen's body and directed her gaze elsewhere. The pallbearers soon showed up and lifted their burden, using the rose-draped

poles to rest the coffin on their shoulders and slowly carry it out to the waiting crowd. The pallbearers were all dhampirs. They wore

formal suits, which confused me at first, but then I realized they were all Court guardians—except one. Ambrose. He looked as

gorgeous as always and stared straight ahead as he did his job, face blank and expressionless.

I wondered if Ambrose mourned Tatiana. I was so fixated on my own problems that I kept forgetting a life had been lost here, a life

that many had loved. Ambrose had defended Tatiana when I'd been angry about the age law. Watching him through Lissa's eyes, I

wished I was there to speak to him in person. He had to know something more about the letter he'd slipped me in the courtroom.

Surely he wasn't just the delivery boy.

The procession moved forward, ending my musings about Ambrose. Before and ahead of the coffin were other ceremonial people.

Royals in elaborate clothing, making a glittering display. Uniformed guardians carrying banners. Musicians with flutes walked at the

very back, playing a mournful tune. For her part, Lissa was very good at public appearances and managed the slow, stately pace with

elegance and grace, her gaze level and confident. I couldn't see outside her body, of course, but it was easy to imagine what the

spectators saw. She was beautiful and regal, worthy to inherit the Dragomir legacy, and hopefully more and more would realize that. It