Skin Game (The Dresden Files, #15)(17)

Of course, some might consider any get-together with Rose Hathaway and Lissa Dragomir a wild time.

Both lived inside what was dubbed the royal palace around here, though from the outside, it maintained that same university facade. Once indoors, the full weight of Moroi history came pressing down with Old World grandeur: crystal chandeliers, velvet drapes, oil paintings of monarchs past. The queen’s rooms were pretty updated, however, having been decorated more for her personal tastes and less for her office. I was just glad she’d taken a set of rooms different from the ones my aunt had lived—and died—in. It was already surreal enough coming here sometimes without that memory to haunt me.

The girls were in Lissa’s living room when I arrived. Lissa was sitting cross-legged on a couch surrounded by books, while Rose had managed to arrange herself upside down in an armchair, her long, dark hair dangling and fanning out on the ground. She leapt upright to her feet with dhampir skill and grace upon my entrance. Hurrying over, she gave me a quick, friendly embrace. “You’re really here. I thought it was a joke at first. Figured you’d be staying with Jill.”

“She doesn’t need me right now,” I said, going over to hug Lissa as she rose up from her books. “School’s wrapping up, and there’s all sorts of things keeping her busy for now.”

“Tell me about it,” said Rose, rolling her eyes at Lissa. “Miss All-Study-and-No-Play here has been taking the fun out of everything.”

Lissa smiled indulgently at her best friend. “Exams start tomorrow.”

“Mine just ended,” I said.

“How’d you do?” Lissa asked, settling back down.

I eyed her books. “Let’s just say I didn’t put nearly as much work into it as you.”

“See?” grumbled Rose. She flounced back into her chair, arms crossed.

I found my own chair between them and reflected upon my sketchy chances of passing this semester. “I think Lissa’s doing it the right way.”

At eighteen, Lissa was the youngest queen in the history of the Moroi, elected in the chaos following my aunt’s murder. No one would’ve faulted her for not going to college or for simply attempting to do it long distance. Lissa, however, had held true to her lifelong dreams of going to a big university and felt that as monarch, it was now doubly important for her to have a thorough education. She’d been attending Lehigh University, a few hours away, and had kept her GPA up while ruling a restless nation. She and Sydney would get on beautifully.

Lissa put her feet up on a coffee table, and I used spirit to briefly look at her aura. It was warm and content, as it should be, with the flashes of gold that marked another spirit user. “Then you’ll understand if I have to keep this short. I’ve got to memorize some dates and places before I go to bed tonight, and then we’re heading up to school early in the morning. We’re going to actually stay on campus for the rest of exam week.”

“I won’t keep you,” I said. “I just wanted to ask you about something.”

Lissa looked mildly surprised at that, and I realized she’d thought this was just a social call.

“Have you looked any more into what happened to Sydney Sage?”

Mild surprise turned to extreme surprise. “That again?” asked Lissa. It sounded unkinder than I knew she intended. No one outside of the Palm Springs circle knew what Sydney meant to me, and Lissa didn’t even have the connection of friendship to Sydney that someone like Rose did.

In fact, the mention of Sydney brought a frown to Rose’s face. “She’s still missing?”

Lissa glanced between us. “I don’t know anything more since you asked me a few months ago. I made inquiries. They said she’d been reassigned and that the information was classified.”

“That’s a lie,” I said hotly. “They kidnapped her and sent her to one of their goddamned re-education centers!”

“You told me that before, and unless things have changed, you also told me you don’t have any proof,” said Lissa calmly. “Without that, I can hardly accuse them of lying … and really, what right do I have to question what they do with their own people?”

“You have the right because what they’re doing goes against basic rules of decency and respect for others. They’re holding her and torturing her.”

Lissa shook her head. “Again, not something I can interfere with. Guardians often seize dhampirs who run away from training and then punish them. What if the Alchemists tried to dictate how we do that? We’d say what I’m saying now: It’s not in our jurisdiction. They have their people, we have ours. Now, if one of my own people were in danger from them, then yes, I’d have every right to throw my weight around with the Alchemists.”

“But you won’t—because she’s human,” I said flatly. All the high hopes I’d come here with were starting to teeter.

Rose, at least, looked more sympathetic. “Are they really torturing her?”

“Yes,” I said. “Well, I mean, I haven’t been in touch with her or anyone who’s talked to her to say exactly what they’re doing, but I know someone who knows about situations like hers.”

Sadness—for me—shone in Lissa’s light green eyes, so similar to Jill’s. “Adrian, do you realize how convoluted it sounds?”