The Ruby Circle
Page 83
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“The little master awakes,” I said. “Be right back.”
I sprinted out of the room and up the stairs, to the bedroom that doubled as both a nursery and Eddie’s room. I had high enough royal rank to finally be assigned my own guardian, and Eddie, in that noble way of his, had pulled strings to be assigned to us. I’d initially protested because I wanted him to stay at Court and have a semi-normal dating life with Jill. Eddie, however, felt obligated to be with us—both out of friendship to Sydney and me and for all the times Neil had helped him. We’d offered to turn the house’s small study into Eddie’s own bedroom, but he always ended up sleeping in Declan’s room anyway.
“Hey, buddy,” I said, walking over to the crib. Declan stood there in fire truck pajamas, watching me seriously with big brown eyes. His dark curls were tousled from sleep, but he beamed as I approached and lifted him out. “Did you have a good nap? We have guests, you know. Aunt Jill is back.”
Declan leaned his head against me and yawned, not responding. He was only a year and a half and not much of a conversationalist. Only a few of us knew his true age, however. To the rest of the world, we said he was just over a year old.
That was because we were also telling the rest of the world that he was my and Sydney’s son.
Neil had been convinced it was the only way to give Declan a chance at an ordinary life, and we’d finally respected Neil’s wishes to stay in hiding. There was no other family to care for Declan; Nina had never recovered. Even if we’d passed Declan off as Olive’s son, whom we were raising on her behalf, there might still be too many questions about his father. But if we, a Moroi and a human, said we had a dhampir son, there was no reason for anyone to think we weren’t telling the truth.
And so Sydney and I had dropped out of contact with everyone for a while, finally telling the world we had a baby a few months after his supposed birthday. We claimed she’d gotten pregnant right after being rescued from re-education, and then we’d said he came early. We stayed away from people enough that we were able to fudge the dates and make it all seem plausible. If we seemed secretive in our actions, most people assumed it was because we were still nervous about the Alchemists. They’d held good on their word to leave us alone so far, but everyone understood why we might be wary.
It had also helped that we’d had excellent allies. There was no way Sydney and I could’ve pulled all this off without our friends. Rose and Dimitri had helped cover for us back at Court. My mom had been huge in helping watch Declan so that Sydney and I could still pursue other interests. Eddie had also helped take care of him, along with offering us much-needed protection. He was also the only one of us who’d finally gotten in touch with Neil in whatever undisclosed location he was at. Neil still kept his distance but had recently allowed Eddie to send updates and pictures, and our hope was that someday Neil and Declan could be back in each other’s lives.
“Look at him!” squealed Jill when I came down the stairs. “He’s gotten so big!”
Even Rose and Dimitri got in on the baby admiration. Whereas we’d seen Jill recently, it had been months and months since their last visit. Declan was probably a giant to them. “We should’ve brought him a silver stake,” Dimitri said. “I’m surprised Eddie hasn’t taught him already.”
Eddie, his arm resting on Jill, smiled. “We work on it right after morning nap.”
The living room door opened again, and Sydney stepped through, snowflakes in her blond hair, a backpack over one shoulder, and a paper bag in her arms. I quickly handed Declan to Jill and took the bags from Sydney. Inside the paper one, I saw French bread and some fruit. The backpack felt like it had a hundred books in it, which was probably true. She smiled up at me as she took her heavy coat off.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “The roads were bad.”
Underneath the coat, she wore a red wool dress and a nametag reading SYDNEY IVASHKOV, STUDENT DOCENT. “Exciting times at the museum?” I asked.
“Always,” she said, giving me a brief kiss on the lips.
“Better be careful in that dress,” I said. “Someone might mistake you for a work of art.”
After we’d moved here last year, Sydney had been ready to throw herself into the job market to support us, and that’s when we’d had our first real fight that didn’t involve something supernatural. I’d been insistent she finally go to college. She’d said it could wait until our finances built up. Fortunately, another good friend had come through for us: Clarence. With his ample fortune, he’d been more than happy to send us regular stipends—in fact, we’d had to limit him so as not to attract too much attention. But between those payments and student loans, Sydney had finally achieved her dream of studying ancient art at a local university. She’d even nabbed an internship at their museum.
Recently, I’d also been able to help our family income with . . . my own job.
Sometimes that seemed like the most surreal part of all. Me, Adrian Ivashkov, earning an ordinary living. After all the bizarre ups and downs I’d had with money, going from a spoiled kid with unlimited funds to a guy cut off by his father, it seemed unreal sometimes that I now got by with an hourly wage like everyone else. Equally astonishing was how much I’d grown to like it. I’d honestly never expected to get a job with my art degree—if I even finished it. There just weren’t that many jobs demanding artists and certainly not ones that needed people with incomplete art degrees. While helping out a neighbor one day, though, I’d learned her daughter’s preschool was looking for a part-time art teacher. At that level, my degree didn’t matter so much, just my enthusiasm for teaching art to kids. Incredibly, I’d turned out to be pretty good at it—though maybe it was just my natural-born immaturity that allowed me to relate to kids. I’d found a few other preschools and pitched myself to them too, eventually gathering enough part-time positions to contribute substantially to our family’s income.
The original place liked me so much that the director had told me if I finished a bachelor’s degree in education, I could come work a full-time teacher’s position with better pay and solid hours. Sydney hadn’t pressured me to go back to college, but when she’d heard that, her eyes had lit up, and I had a feeling she’d be working my college tuition into her master budget.
I sprinted out of the room and up the stairs, to the bedroom that doubled as both a nursery and Eddie’s room. I had high enough royal rank to finally be assigned my own guardian, and Eddie, in that noble way of his, had pulled strings to be assigned to us. I’d initially protested because I wanted him to stay at Court and have a semi-normal dating life with Jill. Eddie, however, felt obligated to be with us—both out of friendship to Sydney and me and for all the times Neil had helped him. We’d offered to turn the house’s small study into Eddie’s own bedroom, but he always ended up sleeping in Declan’s room anyway.
“Hey, buddy,” I said, walking over to the crib. Declan stood there in fire truck pajamas, watching me seriously with big brown eyes. His dark curls were tousled from sleep, but he beamed as I approached and lifted him out. “Did you have a good nap? We have guests, you know. Aunt Jill is back.”
Declan leaned his head against me and yawned, not responding. He was only a year and a half and not much of a conversationalist. Only a few of us knew his true age, however. To the rest of the world, we said he was just over a year old.
That was because we were also telling the rest of the world that he was my and Sydney’s son.
Neil had been convinced it was the only way to give Declan a chance at an ordinary life, and we’d finally respected Neil’s wishes to stay in hiding. There was no other family to care for Declan; Nina had never recovered. Even if we’d passed Declan off as Olive’s son, whom we were raising on her behalf, there might still be too many questions about his father. But if we, a Moroi and a human, said we had a dhampir son, there was no reason for anyone to think we weren’t telling the truth.
And so Sydney and I had dropped out of contact with everyone for a while, finally telling the world we had a baby a few months after his supposed birthday. We claimed she’d gotten pregnant right after being rescued from re-education, and then we’d said he came early. We stayed away from people enough that we were able to fudge the dates and make it all seem plausible. If we seemed secretive in our actions, most people assumed it was because we were still nervous about the Alchemists. They’d held good on their word to leave us alone so far, but everyone understood why we might be wary.
It had also helped that we’d had excellent allies. There was no way Sydney and I could’ve pulled all this off without our friends. Rose and Dimitri had helped cover for us back at Court. My mom had been huge in helping watch Declan so that Sydney and I could still pursue other interests. Eddie had also helped take care of him, along with offering us much-needed protection. He was also the only one of us who’d finally gotten in touch with Neil in whatever undisclosed location he was at. Neil still kept his distance but had recently allowed Eddie to send updates and pictures, and our hope was that someday Neil and Declan could be back in each other’s lives.
“Look at him!” squealed Jill when I came down the stairs. “He’s gotten so big!”
Even Rose and Dimitri got in on the baby admiration. Whereas we’d seen Jill recently, it had been months and months since their last visit. Declan was probably a giant to them. “We should’ve brought him a silver stake,” Dimitri said. “I’m surprised Eddie hasn’t taught him already.”
Eddie, his arm resting on Jill, smiled. “We work on it right after morning nap.”
The living room door opened again, and Sydney stepped through, snowflakes in her blond hair, a backpack over one shoulder, and a paper bag in her arms. I quickly handed Declan to Jill and took the bags from Sydney. Inside the paper one, I saw French bread and some fruit. The backpack felt like it had a hundred books in it, which was probably true. She smiled up at me as she took her heavy coat off.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “The roads were bad.”
Underneath the coat, she wore a red wool dress and a nametag reading SYDNEY IVASHKOV, STUDENT DOCENT. “Exciting times at the museum?” I asked.
“Always,” she said, giving me a brief kiss on the lips.
“Better be careful in that dress,” I said. “Someone might mistake you for a work of art.”
After we’d moved here last year, Sydney had been ready to throw herself into the job market to support us, and that’s when we’d had our first real fight that didn’t involve something supernatural. I’d been insistent she finally go to college. She’d said it could wait until our finances built up. Fortunately, another good friend had come through for us: Clarence. With his ample fortune, he’d been more than happy to send us regular stipends—in fact, we’d had to limit him so as not to attract too much attention. But between those payments and student loans, Sydney had finally achieved her dream of studying ancient art at a local university. She’d even nabbed an internship at their museum.
Recently, I’d also been able to help our family income with . . . my own job.
Sometimes that seemed like the most surreal part of all. Me, Adrian Ivashkov, earning an ordinary living. After all the bizarre ups and downs I’d had with money, going from a spoiled kid with unlimited funds to a guy cut off by his father, it seemed unreal sometimes that I now got by with an hourly wage like everyone else. Equally astonishing was how much I’d grown to like it. I’d honestly never expected to get a job with my art degree—if I even finished it. There just weren’t that many jobs demanding artists and certainly not ones that needed people with incomplete art degrees. While helping out a neighbor one day, though, I’d learned her daughter’s preschool was looking for a part-time art teacher. At that level, my degree didn’t matter so much, just my enthusiasm for teaching art to kids. Incredibly, I’d turned out to be pretty good at it—though maybe it was just my natural-born immaturity that allowed me to relate to kids. I’d found a few other preschools and pitched myself to them too, eventually gathering enough part-time positions to contribute substantially to our family’s income.
The original place liked me so much that the director had told me if I finished a bachelor’s degree in education, I could come work a full-time teacher’s position with better pay and solid hours. Sydney hadn’t pressured me to go back to college, but when she’d heard that, her eyes had lit up, and I had a feeling she’d be working my college tuition into her master budget.
