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Daniella Ivashkov."

Lissa sighed, knowing it was all true. "If only Abe could talk to the Alchemists. We need what they know."

"He'll do it," said my mother confidently. "It'll just take time."

"We don't have time!" The dramatic turn of events was giving spirit a nice chance to raise its ugly head, and like always, I tried to

pull the darkness from Lissa. You'd think I would have learned my lesson after Victor, but well . . . old habits died hard. They come first.

"Marie Conta and Rufus Tarus are the only candidates left! If he wins, Daniella's going to have a lot of influence. We'll never prove

Rose is innocent then."

Ariana failing the last test had come as a huge blow to everyone, smashing a future Lissa had thought was set in stone. Without

Ariana, the outcome didn't look good. Marie Conta wasn't Lissa's favorite person, but Lissa felt she'd make a much better ruler than

Rufus. Unfortunately, the Conta family had been quiet in politics in recent years, giving them fewer allies and friends. The numbers

were leaning dangerously toward Rufus. It was frustrating. If we could get Jill there, Lissa could vote, and on a Council of twelve, even

one vote would be powerful.

"We have time," my mom said calmly. "There'll be no vote today, not with the controversy you'll cause. And for every day the election

is delayed, we have another chance to build our case. We're close. We can do it."

"We can't tell Adrian about this," warned Lissa, moving toward the door. It was time to go.

Christian's trademark smirk returned. "That," he said, "is something we can all agree on."

The elaborate ballroom—yet again made a Council room for size reasons—looked like a rock concert. People were fighting for

spots inside. Some, realizing that was futile, had camped outside the building, picnic style. Someone had thankfully had the brilliant

idea to hook up a sound system with outdoor speakers so that those who didn't make it in could still hear the proceedings. Guardians

moved through the crowds, trying to contain the chaos—particularly as the candidates arrived.

Marie Conta had shown up just before Lissa, and even if she was the least-likely candidate, there were still roars and surges of

excitement in the crowd. Guardians hastily—and roughly, if necessary—held the mob back so she could pass. That attention had to be

scary, but Marie didn't show it. She walked proudly, smiling at supporters and non-supporters alike. Both Lissa and I recalled

Christian's words: You're a queenly nominee. Act like it. You deserve this. You're the last Dragomir. A daughter of royalty.

And that was exactly how she behaved. It was more than Christian's urging, too. Now that she'd passed all three tests, the gravity of

the ancient procedure she was entering continued to grow. Lissa walked in, her head held high. I couldn't see her whole body, but I

recognized the feel of her walk: graceful, stately. The crowd loved it, and it occurred to me that this group was particularly vocal

because most weren't royal. Those gathered outside were ordinary Moroi, the ones who had come to truly love her. "Alexandra's heir!"

"Bring back the dragon!" For some, it was simply enough to shout her name, adding on the titles of an old Russian folktale heroine

who shared the same name: "Vasilisa the brave! Vasilisa the beautiful!"

I knew no one would guess the fear she felt inside. She was that good. Christian and my mother, who had initially flanked her, fell

back as one, letting Lissa walk a couple steps ahead. There was no question of Lissa's position and authority. She took each step

with confidence, remembering that her grandfather had also walked this path. She tried to give the crowd a smile that was both

dignified but genuine. It must have worked because they went even wilder. And when she paused to comment on a dragon banner a

man had painted in support, the artist nearly passed out that someone like her would notice and compliment him.

"This is unprecedented," remarked my mom, once they'd safely made it inside. "There's never been this sort of turnout. There

certainly wasn't during the last election."

"Why so great this time?" asked Lissa, who was trying to get her breathing under control.

"Because there's so much sensation, between the murder and you muddling the law. That and . . . well, the way you're winning the

hearts of every non-royal out there. The dhampirs too. There's a dragon sign in one of our coffee rooms, you know. I even think some

of the royals love you, though maybe it's just to spite whatever family they're feuding with. But seriously? If this were up to all of the

people and not just the Council—and well, if it was a vote you were eligible for—I think you'd win."

Lissa grimaced but then reluctantly added, "Honestly? I think we should have popular votes for our leaders. Every Moroi should cast

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a vote, not just a handful of elite families."

"Careful there, princess," teased Christian, putting his arm through hers. "That's the kind of talk that'll start another revolution. One at

a time, okay?"

The ballroom's crowd wasn't as crazy as the outside one had been—but was pretty close. The guardians were ready for the

numbers this time and had made sure to keep strict control from the very beginning. They kept a tight count of how many were allowed

in the room and stopped royal and non-royal squabbles. It was still intimidating, and Lissa reminded herself over and over that playing

this role was helping me. For me, she would endure anything, even the fanfare. This time, fortunately, Lissa was swept up pretty quickly

to the room's front, to where three chairs facing the crowd had been set up for the candidates. Rufus and Marie were already seated,

speaking in low voices to a few select family members. Guardians stood around them. Lissa sat alone, of course, but nodded to

nearby guards when Tasha approached.

Tasha crouched beside Lissa, speaking low and keeping a wary eye on Rufus as he talked to someone. "Bad news. Well,

depending on how you look at it. Ethan says Daniella was there that night. She and Tatiana met alone. He didn't realize it hadn't been

put on the records. Someone else wrote those up on behalf of all the guards on duty, but he swears he saw Daniella himself."

Lissa winced. Secretly, she'd been hoping—praying, even—that she'd made a mistake, that surely Adrian's mother couldn't have

done this. She gave a swift nod to show she understood.

"I'm sorry," said Tasha. "I know you liked her."

"I think I'm more worried about Adrian. I don't know how he'll take it."

"Hard," said Tasha bluntly. After what she'd faced with Christian's parents, she knew better than anyone else what it was like to have

family betray you. "But he'll make it through. And as soon as we can put all this evidence forward, we'll have Dimitri and Rose back."

Those words filled Lissa with hope, strengthening her. "I miss her so much," she said. "I wish she was here already."

Tasha gave her a sympathetic smile and patted her shoulder. "Soon. They'll be back soon. Just get through this for now. You can do

this. You can change everything."

Lissa wasn't so sure about that, but Tasha hurried off to join her "activist friends" and was replaced by—Daniella.

She'd come to talk to Rufus, offering support and family love. Lissa couldn't bear to look at the older woman and felt even worse

when Daniella spoke to her.

"I'm not sure how you got involved with this, dear, but good luck." Daniella's smile seemed sincere, but there was no question which

candidate she supported. Her kindly expression turned to concern. "Have you seen Adrian? I thought for sure he'd be here. I know the

guardians would let him in."

Excellent question. Lissa hadn't seen him in the last day or so. "I haven't. Maybe he's just running late. Doing his hair or something."

Hopefully not passed out somewhere.

Daniella sighed. "I hope so."

She left, taking a seat in the audience. Once again, Adrian's father was running the session, and after several false starts, the room

quieted.

"In the last week," Nathan began, speaking into a microphone, "many worthy candidates have taken the tests required to rule our

people. Before us sit the final three: Rufus Tarus, Marie Conta, and Vasilisa Dragomir." Nathan's tone sounded displeased over that

last one, but thus far, the law would let her give her speech. After that, the law's inconsistency kicked in, and all hell would break loose.

"These three have shown they have the ability to rule, and as their last act, before we vote, each will speak about their plans for our

people."

Rufus was up first, delivering exactly the kind of speech I'd expected. He played on Moroi fears, promising extreme forms of

protection—most of which involved dhampirs but didn't get into much detail.

"Our safety must be our top priority," he proclaimed. "At all costs. Will it be difficult? Yes. Will there be sacrifices? Yes. But aren't our

children worth it? Don't we care about them?" Bringing children into it was just low, I decided. At least he'd left puppies out.

He also used dirty politician tricks, slandering his rivals. Marie was mostly slammed for her family's lack of activity. Lissa, however,

was a great target. He pushed her age, the danger of spirit, and the fact that her being there in the first place was a violation of the law.

Marie's speech was much more thoughtful and detailed. She laid out very explicit plans on all sorts of issues, most of which were

reasonable. I didn't agree with all she said, but she was clearly competent and didn't lower herself to mocking her competition.

Unfortunately, she wasn't nearly as charismatic as Rufus, and it was a sad truth that that could make a big difference. Her monotone

closing summed up not only her speech but also her personality.

"Those are the reasons why I should be queen. I hope you enjoyed this talk and will vote for me when the time comes. Thank you."

She abruptly sat down.

Lissa's turn came at last. Standing before her microphone, she suddenly saw the chalice's dream, where she'd faltered in front of

the Council. But no, this was reality. She wouldn't fail. She would go forward.

"We're a people at war," she began, voice loud and clear. "We're constantly attacked—but not just by Strigoi. By one another. We're

divided. We fight with one another. Family against family. Royal against non-royal. Moroi against dhampir. Of course the Strigoi are

picking us off. They're at least united behind a goal: killing."

If I had been sitting there in that audience, I would have been leaning forward, mouth open. As it was, there were plenty of people

there to do it for me. Her words were volatile. Shocking. And utterly captivating.

"We are one people," she continued. "Moroi and dhampir alike." Yeah, that got some gasps too. "And while it's impossible for every

single person to get their way, no one will get anything done if we don't come together and find ways to meet in the middle—even if it

means making hard choices."

Then, extraordinarily, she explained how it could be done. True, she didn't have the time to give fine details on every single issue in

our world, but she hit a lot of the big ones. And she managed to do it in a way that didn't offend anyone too badly. After all, she was

right in saying not everyone could get their way. Still, she spoke about how the dhampirs were our best warriors—and would be better

with a stronger voice. She spoke about how non-royals needed a greater voice too—but not at the cost of losing the exalted royal lines

that defined our people. Finally, in addressing the issue of training Moroi to defend themselves, she did emphasize its importance

—but not as something mandatory and not as the only method needing to be explored.

Yes, she gave something to everyone and did it beautifully and charismatically. It was the kind of speech that could make people

follow her anywhere. She concluded with, "We have always mixed the old with the new. We've kept magic alongside technology. We

conduct these sessions with scrolls and—with these." She smiled and tapped her microphone. "That's how we have survived. We hold

onto our pasts and embrace our present. We take the best of it all and grow stronger. That's how we have survived. That's how we will

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survive."

Silence met her conclusion—and then the cheers began. I actually heard the roar from outside on the lawn before it started within.

People I would have sworn supported others were practically in tears, and I hadn't forgotten that most of the people I had visuals on in

this room were royal. Lissa herself wanted to burst into tears but instead took her due bravely. When she finely sat down, and the

crowd quieted, Nathan resumed his role.

"Well," he said. "That was a very pretty speech, one we all enjoyed. But now, the time has come for the Council to vote on our next

leader, and—by law—only two candidates stand ready for that position: Rufus Tarus and Marie Conta." Two Moroi, one each from the

Tarus and Conta families, came forward to join their respective candidates. Nathan's gaze fell on Lissa who had risen like the others

but stood alone. "According to the election laws—laws set down since the beginning of time—each candidate must approach the

Council, escorted by someone of their bloodline in order to show family strength and unity. Do you have any such person?"

Lissa met his eyes unflinchingly. "No, Lord Ivashkov."