“Fortunately, I play dirty.” The cocky grin on Ramson’s face disappeared as he shouted, “Again, Ana!”
Ana was about to throw her Affinity forward when she felt that cold, impenetrable wall in her mind. Her Affinity snuffed out. Ramson’s knife clanged on the floor as Kerlan’s second Affinite leapt out of its path.
Ana turned, knowing already what she would see.
The Nandjian yaeger stood behind them, his eyes burning into hers. Sweat shone on his skin as he stepped forward and drew his sword.
Ana swore. To their left, palace guards advanced from the direction of the Grand Throneroom. To their right, the yaeger blocked the way out. And in front of them, Kerlan’s male Affinite flexed his arms. A nearby marble column tore from the wall with a great, reverberating crack. Behind him, Kerlan smiled.
“Ramson, my son,” Kerlan called. “I had hoped to save you for my own special treat. Give up the witch and save your own skin. It’s what you do best.”
Ana sank to her knees as the pressure on her mind increased from the yaeger’s power. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him advance, his heels clicking on the marble floor. From the other end of the hallway, the Palace guards drew closer, their swords flashing silver.
A shout cut through the air; Ramson knocked into her with such force that her breath caught. Pain burst through her shoulder as they slammed into the ground and skidded.
Ana looked up just in time to see a marble pillar smash onto the spot where they had been a heartbeat ago. Bits of chipped marble and rock exploded in all directions.
Her back hurt; she and Ramson were a tangle of limbs between the silks of her gown. He pushed himself up and hauled her to her feet. “Ana.” He cupped her cheek, his voice low, urgent. “The Coronation. You need to go.”
“You can’t win here alone.” Her voice was harder than she meant for it to be, only so that it wouldn’t shake.
“If you stay here, you lose your brother and your empire.” His tone was harsh.
Ana hesitated.
She’d doubted Ramson and his intentions, up until this very moment. He was putting his life on the line for her.
Ana only wished she hadn’t realized so late.
But Kerlan was laughing, the marble Affinite was lifting another pillar, the Palace guards were almost upon them, and the Coronation was beginning. She had a choice to make, and that choice was not Ramson.
Ana seized a fistful of his shirt, pulling him to her so that they were a breath apart. Through the haze of sweat and blood, Ramson’s eyes found her. “Don’t you dare die on me, con man,” she whispered before she let go. And then she was on her feet and running down the Hall of Deities.
The squad of Palace guards marched toward her, blue cloaks flapping behind them, blackstone-infused swords gleaming beneath the chandeliers. She kept running until she felt the yaeger’s mental block slip from her mind, his presence behind her flickering out.
She slowed, ten paces from the Palace guards. And it hit her that she recognized them—most were familiar faces who had served her just one year ago.
They seemed to recognize her, too; several guards slowed, uncertainty and disbelief warring over their faces. Their leader came to a stop, his sword steady in his hands, his eyes betraying his hesitation.
“Lieutenant Henryk,” Ana said steadily.
His eyes widened. “It is you, Kolst Pryntsessa.” He stood his ground, whereas a year ago, he would have knelt at her feet.
Ana tilted her head. “Where is Kapitan Markov?” When he didn’t answer, she took another step forward. “Where is Markov, Henryk?”
Henryk’s mouth tightened. “I have my orders to arrest you, Kolst Pryntsessa.”
“Whose orders?”
“The Kolst Contessya.” His tone was firm, his face belying no emotion. “Please, come quietly. I do not wish to hurt you.”
“I believe you,” she said, and lifted a hand. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I have to get through.”
The six guards fell to their knees as her Affinity tightened around them, their swords clattering to the floor. Lieutenant Henryk was the last to fall. He lifted his head to meet her eyes. His mouth opened and closed, as though he were struggling to say something to her.
Ana stepped past the kneeling guards, her steps ringing loud and clear as she approached the doors of the Grand Throneroom. Another dozen steps and the grand mahogany doors with the white tiger handles loomed before her.
Fatigue descended over her like a heavy cloud. She steeled herself, reining in her shaking muscles. Chin high, shoulders back. Just as Luka had always taught her.
