7.3 |A World Soaked in Blood
Dedicated to wereandvampgurl
In the forty years that Irina Rostova had been
Prime Minister, never-not even once-had she
interviewed someone. Not a single witness,
suspect, or even an honored guest.
And yet, from the balcony where dozens of keepers
observed, Ren watched Rostova descend from her
throne and walk toward the Halfblood Bastard.
Beside him, Misha said, "Oldbloods save her."
Some equalist Ministers stirred with confusion,
sending each other apprehensive glances.A
blindside, no doubt. But the purists on the left-
their smiles dripped with smug disdain.
As she stood in front of the witness, Rostova's regal
stance and sterile-white pantsuit exuded an air of
superiority. Her intentions were clear; she wanted
Nika to remember who was pureblooded and who
was not.
"Where were you on the night the journal was
stolen from Konstantin Academy's library?"
Nika cleared her throat and said, "At the old dorm
cabins."
"Not in class?"
"No.I... wanted some alone time."
"Please, more specific. Why were you there?"
"I was avoiding someone and didn't want to run
into them in class."
"Who?"
"I don't see how that's impor-
"Who."
Ren felt a pang of synmpathy. This was going to get
personal.
"Miles Crane."
"Why would you avoid your friend?"
Nika tore her eyes away.
"Answer the question, Miss Dimitrovich."
"Because Miles told me he... had romantic
feelings for me," Nika said, her cheeks flashing
with color. "I didn't feel the same, and I wasn't
ready to see him yet."
Rostova pressed her lips together. "Normally, we
would have Miles corroborate this story, but we
can't do that, seeing as he's-conveniently-dead"
An equalist Minister named Dragovich cleared her
throat. "Please, Irina. Stay on topic."
"Yes, of course. My apologies." She regarded Nika
again. "What kind of things did you do at this
cabin?"
"I just sat around. Thinking. Until someone
knocked on the door. He introduced himself as
Dante Azzara, a new student. Then he asked for
directions to the library, which I gave."
As Nika spoke, Rostova was handed a photograph
from one of the purist Ministers. Ren vaguely made
out the face of a young man as she held it up.
"Is this the boy you met?"
"Yes."
Rostova then showed Nika several documents
that Rostova intended to make Emil look guilty of
aiding this Azzara person. The High Keeper was
perhaps the only thing standing between the
Ministry and control over the Vigil, and she'd
wanted to get rid of him for as long as Ren could
remember.
Nika c****d her head at Rostova and said,
"Someone like you?"
A fluttering, breathy laugh swept through the
keepers in the balconies. The Ministers below
either raised their brows or coughed their surprise.
"That girl is ballsy," Misha whispered.
So it seems, Ren thought, fighting a smile.
Scowling, the Prime Minister returned the papers
to her associate. "Do you believe Dante Azzara
stole Konstantin's journal?"
"Yes."
"What makes you think he did it?"
"A number of reasons. First, Dante needed
directions to the library, and that's where the
journal was held. And when he confronted me and
my friends the next day, he all but confessed to
bound together. "This is the profile found in the
Vigil's database, filed under Dante Azzara's name.
Do you believe that he is a keeper?"
Nika didn't even glance at the papers before
saying, "No."
The smug look on Rostova's face melted. "And why
not?"
"He might have a keeper's profile, but the person
met is no keeper," Nika said. "He doesn't act like
one, talk like one, or dress like one. And I watched
him transform into a wolf. There's no waya Volkari
would have been able to live and work in this
community without being noticed."
In the balconies around Ren, keepers nodded and
echoed their agreement.
"Perhaps he could have" Rostova said, "if he'd
been protected by someone with a position of
authority."
Misha muttered something nasty under his breath,
and Ren glanced at his father. Emil Kovac had a
placid demeanor, completely unfazed by the Prime
Minister's suggestion.
It was clear to Ren, and probably to everyone else,
doing it"
"Please tell us about your interaction with him that
night"
"I asked what he wanted, why he was there, and
why he stole the journal. He said those were
complicated questions. After that, he showed us
his eyes-Volkari eyes. Then he told us that he
needed to take one of us. So l offered myself-"
Rostova raised a hand for silence. "Why?"
Nika frowned. "To protect my friends."
"But why did you think he needed you?"
There was enough emphasis placed on the final
word for Ren to understand what was happening
here. Rostova would dig, poke, and claw at
anything she could. For no other reason than to
reveal the supposed faults that had been caused
by Nika's halfblood status.
Tainted blood, people called her. Ren shook his
head in disapproval.
Nika folded her hands in her lap and didn't lift her
gaze as she said, "I thought that maybe he wanted
money. It's well-known that the Dimitrovich and
Mirza families are wealthy, so I figured he'd take
either me or Elliot. Hold one of us for ransom."
Rostova smiled, a cruel, cold slice of her thin lips.
"And you believed your father would pay any price
to have you brought back?" A short snicker.
"Markos, tell me, how high would you go?"
Markos Dimitrovich was the picture of bored
indifference as he raised his eyebrows at Rostova
and shrugged. Nika didn't even glance at him, as if
she knew what he would say next.
"I suppose I have a few million to spare, but it
would be such a pity to waste. l'd hoped to
purchase a few items at an antique auction in Italy
next month."
Chuckles arose from several Ministers, who didn't
appear to notice the way Nika shrank deeper into
the witness chair.
"That's f****d up," Misha whispered.
"He doesn't mean it," Ren said. "It's all for show."
"Tell that to his daughter."
When the amusement faded, Rostova pivoted, her
face flashing with unsettling excitement as she ledNika into the snare. In two long strides, she was
looming over the witness and slamming her hands
on the armrests.
The little-bodied Nika Dimitrovich-to Ren's
eternal surprise-didn't even flinch. He saw it,
then. Something swirling in her emerald eyes.
Something darkening.
"Miss Dimitrovich, have you been acquainted with
Dante Azzara for longer than a few days?"
From the tone of voice, the hush of the room, and
the question itself, Ren knew.. . This was no
interview. It was an interrogation.