There was nothing more I could say as I helped wipe blood and dirt from Adrian’s face with a damp cloth, brushing aside wayward pieces of chestnut hair. He gave me his devil-may-care smile and still managed to look dashing, despite his bedraggled state.

“Hey, don’t sound so down, Sage. It wasn’t that hopeless of a fight.” He glanced over at Neil and said in a stage whisper, “Right? Tell her it wasn’t that hopeless of a fight. Tell her I really held my own.”

Neil managed a wan smile, but Adrian’s mother spoke before he could. “Adrian, dear, this is no time for jokes.”

My vampire mother-in-law and I didn’t agree on many things, but this was a topic we were in perfect harmony about. The pall from our earlier fight still hung over us, and I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that I hadn’t worked harder to get him to stay. At the very least, I should’ve told him to bring a guardian, since this wasn’t his first encounter with troublemakers. Usually, guardians only accompanied Moroi out in the world, where Strigoi were a real danger. But here, with the rest of Adrian’s people thinking we were freaks of nature for getting married, antagonism hit a little closer to home. We’d faced plenty of threats and slander, though never outright violence before. It was a stroke of good—albeit weird—luck that Eddie and Neil had found him.

Eddie was gone, having hurried off to the front gates to escort Ms. Terwilliger to us. It was a sign of my distress over Adrian’s condition that I’d barely spared a moment to ponder what in the world could’ve brought my former history teacher and magical mentor to the royal stronghold of a secretive race of vampires. Even though some troubled part of me worried her visit couldn’t be for any good reason, I still couldn’t help but be excited at the prospect of seeing her. It had been months since we’d been together in person. I loved Adrian and didn’t mind Daniella—but was dying for some other sort of interaction.

“Nothing’s broken,” Adrian insisted. “I probably won’t even have a scar from any of this. Too bad. I think a well-placed scar right about here”—he touched the side of his face—“could really accentuate my already-perfect cheekbones while adding a rugged touch of manliness to my features. Not that I need any more manliness—”

“Adrian, enough,” I said wearily. “I’m just glad you’re okay. That could’ve been a lot worse. And you should still see a doctor after this, just to be safe.”

He looked as though he had another snarky comment ready and then, wisely, said, “Yes, dear.”