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EMERY
I take off the third dress I’ve tried on and toss it on the growing discard pile on the bed.
“I liked that one,” Isabella protests. She’s sitting by the window in my room, playing a game on the tablet her tutor gave her. Occasionally, she looks up and offers fashion advice.
“You’ve liked all of them.”
“Because they’re pretty!”
Isabella thinks all dresses are pretty. She’d be fine wearing a ball gown to the grocery store.
“The frilly sleeves seem too summery for a dinner.” I pad back into the walk-in closet and stand in front of the rack of options. It was almost easier when I had a closet one-tenth this size. Fewer options.
“I’m wearing my purple dress,” Isabella says. “Because it has flowers. And sparkles.”
“And you’ll look amazing,” I promise.
“What is that guy’s name?”
“Yasha. And he’s not just some guy; he’s Adrik’s brother.”
Isabella’s uncle, if Adrik actually goes through with adopting her.
My stomach flutters at the thought. Adrik hasn’t mentioned it since the night of our wedding, but things have been… good between us. Really good, actually. We’ve fallen into a rhythm, a natural kind of partnership that has made me question whether I believe in things like fate and hope and destiny.
“Ya-sha,” Isabella says, feeling the name out. “Yasha. Yasha.”
“Be nice,” I warn her.
But she’s already giggling, repeating the name with more and more animation. “Yasha, Yasha, Yasha.”
I smile despite myself and grab a green floral wrap dress. I slip it off the hanger and tug it on, tying a knot on my left hip.
“Now, listen,” I say, doing my best to sound stern, “you are going to be nice to Yasha, okay? It isn’t nice to make fun of anyone’s name. So we will be nice and friendly.”
For some reason, I’m more nervous for tonight than I was to meet Adrik’s father. It probably has something to do with the fact that, tonight, I’m not acting.
With Vadim, I was supposed to play a part. But now… it’s just me. Me and Isabella as ourselves. And for some godforsaken reason, I want Adrik’s family to like us.
I walk out of the closet and stand in front of the mirror.
“Ooh, I like this one,” I say. “It’s classy, but casual enough not to look like I’m trying too hard. What do you think?”
When I spin around, Isabella is still sitting by the window, but the tablet is laying in her lap. She’s frowning and staring down at her left arm. Her lips are moving but no words come out.
“What’s wrong, baby?” I rush over and kneel in front of her. “Are you okay?”
I press the back of my hand to her forehead to check her temperature.
She’s burning up.
“Honey?” I grab her cheeks and bring her eyes to mine. “What’s going on?”
“My arm feels funny,” she mumbles. “Tingly.”
I turn her arm in my hands. It looks fine, but as I move down, I can see her fingers are turning purple. They’re freezing cold.
I rack my brain for the side effects the experimental medication can cause. The list the doctor running the study read to me was taller than I am, so I can’t remember if poor circulation was on there or not. But even if it was, that doesn’t explain her fever.
“Mama?” Isabella asks. There’s fear in her voice. “Am I sick?”
I smooth back her dark hair and press a kiss to her forehead. “I’m not sure. But you’ll be fine, okay?”
She blinks at me. I can tell she doesn’t believe me. The product of too many nights spent in the hospital. Too many trips to the emergency room.
Truth is, I don’t believe me, either.
I spin around and grab my phone.
Adrik is the first person I think of, but he’s at the hospital visiting his father. I know he’d come back to the house the second I called, but there’s no sense having him race home only to take us right back to the hospital.
“Just a second, baby,” I say as I hurry out of my room.
Before the wedding, there were always security guards lurking out in the hallway. Adrik never explained their presence, but I understood they were there not to protect me but to watch me.
Now, though, the hallway is empty.
“Hello?” I call, my voice echoing down the space. “Stefan?”
There’s nothing. No footsteps. No voices.
“Shit.”
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I know is coming. Then I head back into the room.
“Okay, come on, honey.” I wave Isabella on. “We’re driving to the hospital.”
If possible, Isabella looks even more frightened at the prospect. “You’re going to drive me?”
“Yes. Now. Hurry.”
Maybe if I sound confident, it will chase away the anxiety buzzing beneath my skin. But there is no other choice.
I load Isabella into the stairlift and bounce on my heels as I wait for the machine to ease her down the steps. It feels like ages. From the top of the staircase to the bottom, Isabella’s cheeks flush a deeper red and her eyelids are growing heavy.
“Are you feeling okay?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I’m sleepy. And my… my bones hurt.”
Seeing her little face squished in pain is enough to bring agonized tears to my eyes. But I blink them back and nod. She needs me to be strong right now.
“Okay. Keep telling me how you’re feeling, alright? If anything changes, tell me right away.”
Carefully, I lift her out of the stair lift and settle her back in her wheelchair. She winces when I sit her down, which sends a fresh spark of fear coursing through me.
On the way to the garage, I keep hoping we’ll run into someone. Maybe Stefan or any of the guards. At this point, I’d let one of the maids drive us to the hospital.
But the house is stubbornly empty.
“Okay,” I breathe, talking more to myself than Isabella. “We’ll be fine. We just need to get some keys and… we’ll be fine.”
Isabella is fading fast. She looks like she’s half-asleep in her chair. So flushed her forehead is damp with sweat.
“We’ll be fine,” I say again, sliding her door closed after I get her loaded in.
I haven’t been in a car since that night with Adrik when I almost killed us both. It had come surprisingly easy, driving. I’ve watched enough people do it throughout my life that I understand the basic mechanics. But that doesn’t make it any less nerve-wracking to climb behind the steering wheel again.
“I can do this,” I mutter to myself. “I have to do this.”
The garage door slides open. I reverse down the drive.
The black Rolls Royce that’s usually parked in front of the house—Adrik’s preferred car—is gone. What I wouldn’t give for him to pull in right now.
But what did I just tell him a few hours ago? Adrik can’t protect everyone. He can’t handle everything all the time.
The man may play at being a superhero, impervious to the things that break weaker mortals down.
But underneath it all, he’s human. And I have to be able to handle things on my own.
I have to handle this on my own.
“You okay back there, baby?” I ask.
There’s no answer.
I angle around and try to get a look at her. The position of her chair makes it hard to see from the driver’s seat, but I can tell Isabella’s head is lolled back. She’s either asleep or…
I don’t allow myself to consider another possibility. She’s tired and she fell asleep. The faster I get her to the hospital, the sooner we’ll have an answer.
“Don’t worry, honey. I’m going to take care of this, okay?”
She still doesn’t answer. I swallow down my worry and slam on the gas.
* * *
