Her kind tone suddenly became a lot frostier. “‘Forcing’ it? Adrian, I’m trying to help you. You heard what happened to Nina with all that spirit use. I don’t want you comatose like her!”

“I didn’t use as much as her,” I retorted.

“You drained yourself! That seems like a lot to me.”

“Yeah, well,” I said angrily, “there are a bunch of dhampirs back in Lana’s camp who’d disagree with you. They’re grateful for what I did.”

But not Olive, whispered Aunt Tatiana. She has nothing to say at all.

“Adrian,” said Sydney, obviously trying for calm, “I’m sure they are grateful, but we’ve been over this. You need to go back on your medication. You can’t save everybody. You can’t use spirit indiscriminately and ignore the cost to yourself. You’re putting your life in danger.”

“What kind of life would I have—what kind of person would I be—if I hoarded that magic and let others suffer? I can’t, Sydney. If I see someone, and I can help, I’m going to. I can’t sit by and abandon them!”

“And I can’t sit by and let you keep hurting yourself,” she cried, losing that calm again.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, rolling over to my side. “I guess I can’t change who I am.”

Long moments passed, and finally she rolled onto her side too so that our backs faced one another. Icy silence fell. So much for a peaceful or romantic night.

She doesn’t understand, Aunt Tatiana told me. She never will.

I need her to, I answered back in my head. I need her in my life to understand and support me. Without her, I’m lost.

You’ll always have me, came the phantom response.

I tugged the covers more tightly over me, thinking with dread about how one of these days, I was going to have to deal with the elephant in the room—or rather, the dead queen in my head. I was fairly certain that if I went back on my medication, Aunt Tatiana would go away . . . but then, so would spirit. Was I ready for that again? Without spirit, I never would’ve been able to heal those dhampirs. I wouldn’t be able to help in the upcoming rescue for Jill. Without spirit, what was I?

Spirit couldn’t save Olive, remarked Aunt Tatiana. It’s overrated.

“Shut up,” I mumbled.

Behind me, Sydney stirred. “Did you say something?”

I rolled back over and kissed her shoulder. “I said I’m sorry. I love you.”

CHAPTER 12: SYDNEY

CHAPTER 12

SYDNEY