Bloodlines (Bloodlines, #1)(24)

Mrs. Delaney was just packing up when I arrived. “What size do you wear, dear?” she asked, catching sight of me in the doorway.

“Two.”

A number of articles were produced: skirts, pants, blouses, and sweaters. I doubted the sweaters would see much wear, unless a freak apocalyptic blizzard hit Palm Springs. Amberwood wasn’t particularly fussy about which ensemble students wore, as long as it came from the approved pool of fashion. The colors were burgundy, dark gray, and white, which I actually thought looked kind of nice together.

Watching me button a white blouse, Mrs. Delaney tsked, “I think you need a size four.”

I froze mid-button. “I wear a two.”

“Oh, yes, you can fit into them, but look at the arms and the skirt length. I think you’ll be more comfortable in a four. Try these.” She handed over a new stack and then laughed. “Don’t look so mortified, girl! A four’s nothing. You’re still a twig.” She patted her ample stomach. “We could fit three of you into my clothes!”

Despite my many protests, I was still sent away with the size-four clothing. I rode back to my dorm, dejected, and found Jill lying on her bed and reading. She sat up at my arrival.

“Hey, I wondered what had happened to you.”

“Got delayed,” I said with a sigh. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah. A lot.” Jill watched as I put away the uniforms. “They’re pretty terrible, right? We didn’t have uniforms at St. Vladimir’s. It’s going to be so boring wearing the same thing every day.” I didn’t want to tell her that as an Alchemist, I might have worn an outfit like this anyway.

“What size did you get?” I asked, to change the subject. I was kind of a glutton for punishment.

“Two.”

A twinge of annoyance shot through me as I hung my uniforms in the closet beside hers. I felt huge by comparison. How were all those Moroi so skinny? Genetics? Low-carb blood diet? Maybe it was just because they were all so tall. All I knew was that whenever I spent time around them, I felt frumpy and awkward and wanted to eat less.

When I finished unpacking, Jill and I compared schedules. Not surprisingly, considering the difference in grades, we had almost nothing in common. The only thing we shared was a multi-grade PE class. All students were required to take it every semester, since fitness was considered part of a well-rounded student’s experience. Maybe I could lose a few pounds and get back into my normal size.

Jill smiled and handed my schedule back. “Eddie went and demanded to be in our PE class since it’s pretty much the only one we could share. It conflicts with his Spanish class, though, and they wouldn’t let him. I don’t think he can handle going the whole school day without seeing that I’m alive. Oh, and Micah’s with us in PE.”

I’d stalked off to my bed, still irritated about the uniforms. Jill’s words caught my attention. “Hey, do you know why Eddie seemed weirded out around Micah?”

Jill shook her head. “No, I didn’t get a chance to ask, but I noticed it too—especially at first. Later—while you were testing—and we were waiting for uniforms, Eddie seemed to chill out. A little. Every once in a while, I’d see him giving Micah a strange look, though.”

“You don’t think he thinks Micah’s dangerous, do you?”

Jill shrugged. “He didn’t seem dangerous to me, but I’m no guardian. If Eddie did think he was some kind of threat, it seems like he’d be acting differently. More aggressive. He mostly seems nervous around Micah. Almost—but not quite—afraid. And that’s weirdest of all because guardians never look scared. Not that Eddie’s technically a guardian. But you know what I mean.”

“I do,” I said, smiling despite my grumpy intentions. That cute, rambling nature cheered me up a little. “What do you mean Eddie’s technically not a guardian? Isn’t he assigned to protect you here?”

“Yeah, he is,” said Jill, toying with one of her light brown curls. “But . . . well, it’s kind of weird. He got in some trouble with the guardians for helping Rose and for, um, killing a guy.”

“He killed a Moroi that attacked Vasilisa, right?” It had come up at my interrogation.

“Yeah,” said Jill, lost in her own memories. “It was self-defense—well, and defense of Lissa, but everyone was shocked at him killing a Moroi. Guardians aren’t supposed to do that, but then, you know, Moroi aren’t supposed to attack each other either. Anyway, he was put on suspension. No one knew what to do with him. When I got . . . attacked, Eddie helped protect me. Later, Lissa said it was stupid to keep him off duty when he could be helpful and that considering Moroi were behind this attack too, she said everyone was going to have to get used to the idea of Moroi being the enemy. Hans—the guardian in charge at Court—finally agreed and sent Eddie here with me, but I think officially, Eddie’s not restored yet. It’s weird.” Jill had delivered the whole speech without pausing and now stopped to catch a breath.

“Well, I’m sure it’ll be sorted out,” I said, trying to be reassuring. “And it seems like he’ll get points for keeping a princess alive.”

Jill looked at me sharply. “I’m no princess.”

I frowned and tried to remember the complexities of Moroi law. “The prince or princess is the oldest member of a family. Since Vasilisa’s queen, the title rolls over to you, right?”