Page 56 of The Pureblood Princess
“Konrád knows,” she says back, somehow feeling safer in Marek’s grasp as Konrád looms above them. “He saw...”
A troubled sigh slips from Marek’s lips, and then his hand dips into the pocket of his overcoat.
“I’m sorry, Miss Magdalena.”
Too quickly for her to react, he withdraws a syringe and presses the sharp point of the needle to Nadia’s neck. There’s a bite of pain, and a mix of grief and rage flood her as she realizes what’s happening.
He’s poisoning her again. Her one chance to escape has been lost.
Marek’s frown is the last thing Nadia sees before her vision blurs and the darkness engulfs her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Nadia once more finds herselfstanding in a dream space of nothingness. Her gown floats about her ankles as if stirred by a spring breeze, and her long hair tickles her elbows. She holds up her hands and finds the shadows have vanished. Relieved, she flexes her fingers and stares curiously at the way they move, as if seeing them for the first time.
“Nadia!”
The voice makes her start, and she spins around.
She sees nothing. The black stretches all around her, fading off, the light diminishing like it does when one stares into a dense forest.
But then the emptiness shimmers, like the distortion in the air on a particularly warm summer day, and a figure begins to take shape. The shimmering substance stretches and contorts, and Nadia takes a step back as the figure of a woman finally finds its shape.
Bathed in a soft otherworldly light, the translucent woman raises her head and looks directly into Nadia’s eyes.
And it’s like looking into a mirror.
The dark hair, the blue eyes . . .
“M-Mother?” Nadia whispers, voice quivering. “Vera Magdalena?”
The woman smiles, and her spectral eyes seem to glow with a cold light all their own.
“Nadia,” she says again, and this time her tone is soft, no longer laced with panic. “My Nadia...”
She floats forward and reaches out. Nadia resists the urge to step away.
Vera brushes the back of her hand across Nadia’s cheek, and the sensation is that of a frigid winter wind biting her skin.
“You must not give up,fiica,” she says, withdrawing her hand and the cold along with it. “You are stronger than this.” Her eyes, filled with love, turn hard. “You cannot let them win.”
“I don’t know what to do.” Nadia looks down at her hands, and they’ve begun to turn to shadow once more. “Something is happening to me...”
She holds up her hands, and Vera smiles.
“You’ve nothing to fear. You need only awaken and claim what is yours, whattheyhave tried for centuries to steal from us.”
“I don’t understand,” Nadia whispers.
“Trebuie sa te regase?ti.” Vera is suddenly far away, her spectral form glowing like a single candle in a long dark hallway. She holds up a hand and beckons for Nadia to follow.
The dream shifts, and the darkness yields to light and color. Nadia’s feet, now bare, find purchase, and she wiggles her toes in the grass.
A manor looms over her, dazzling in the sunlight. It’s a brilliant white, and the roof is supported by four two-story columns. Nadia takes a step out of the grass, and a gravel path crunches underfoot. Then she climbs a few stairs to stand at the manor’s door. But when she lifts a hand to reach for the handle, the scene shifts again.
Now she’s in a bedroom, and a young woman stands across from her, looking out a window. Her hair is long and dark, and ithangs down her back in gentle waves. Nadia thinks she’s looking at herself, but when the woman turns, she realizes it’s Vera.
Moving silently across the room, Vera pulls back a carpet and kneels to pry up a loose floorboard. Having removed the plank, she settles a book into the secret space, then puts everything back the way it was.
