She hesitated. Perhaps everything Tetsyev had told her had been a lie. Yet…She thought of his eyes, the remorse in his voice, the words he’d whispered in the dark. She hadn’t been able to shake off the feeling that he’d spoken the truth that night.
It was worth a try.
Ana threw her Affinity to Luka and gave the gentlest pull.
Even from here, she could sense the wrongness to his blood, the amount of the foreign substance in it. It was sluggish and cold whereas it should have been thrumming and warm. Her heart ached, but she pulled again.
As she concentrated her Affinity on her brother, she was faintly aware of guards seizing her, crossing their swords over her, the blackstone-infused metal cold against her throat.
For the third time, Ana pulled.
Luka blinked. Gave a small gasp.
Ana’s heart soared as his eyes found hers.Trulyfound hers. They looked brighter, more alert, as though he had just woken from a long, long slumber.
Please, Luka. Wake up.
“Stop,” Luka said.
The entire Court turned to look at him with wonder. Tetsyev blinked, and turned in his tracks. “Kolst Imperator…?”
But the brightness in Luka’s eyes was fading again; he looked even more lost as he leaned back, exhaling as though he had spent all of his energy. Flatly, he said, “We must get on with the coronation.”
Ana’s heart sank. Morganya was looking directly at her; a corner of her aunt’s lips curled in the shadow of a smile.
“I, Lukas Aleksander Mikhailov—”
“No!” Ana shouted, but the look her brother gave her was stern—like the ones Papa used to give them.
Everything was going to hell.
“Silence her,” Luka commanded the guards. His gaze then snapped directly to her: bursting with life and confidence and the power of an emperor. “Quiet, brat.”
Brat.She stared at her brother, her heart thumping so hard in her chest that she thought it might burst free.
Luka drew himself straight with the small amount of energy he had left. His voice was dull as he recited, “I, Lukas Aleksander Mikhailov, announce the temporary abdication of the throne to the Cyrilian Empire for reasons of personal health.”
Morganya’s face was aglow in triumph.
“In the event of my abdication or death, I hereby crown the heir to the throne of Cyrilia.” Luka suddenly focused on Ana with such intensity that it took her breath away. “I name the Crown Princess Anastacya Kateryanna Mikhailov as heir and future Empress to the Cyrilian Empire.”
Ramson was going to die.
The ground rumbled beneath his feet as he dove out of the way of another crashing marble pillar, slamming against the opposite wall. His breaths were coming in ragged gasps, and blood trickled down the side of his face.
He shook his head, clearing the double vision.Focus.Ana was still in there. She needed him to hold Kerlan and his cronies here.
He’d held the yaeger at bay so far—when the tall man with those glacial eyes had taken off after Ana, Ramson had jumped in front of him to stop him. He’d been fighting a losing battle even before the marble Affinite joined the party.
Ramson gripped his daggers, pushing himself to his feet and swiping a hand across his nose. It came back bloody.
Three to one. Kerlan’s big bodyguard wasn’t an issue. That brute was made for throwing around his weight and bullying chained victims in confined spaces, not for actual freestyle sparring. And his prerogative, judging from the way he hovered near his master, was to protect Kerlan. It was the other two he had to watch out for.
He glanced at the yaeger, whose swords were out. Ramson was about to spring at him when he caught a sharp movement to his right.
The marble Affinite flung his hand out, and two fist-sized balls of marble shot from the ground. Ramson ducked behind a nearby pillar, feeling it shudder as the two projectiles smashed into it.
A sudden coldness touched his arm. A piece of marble debris snapped around his wrist. Within the blink of an eye, it twisted and closed over itself like a handcuff, and the ground jerked from beneath him. Ramson was flung bodily across the hall—or rather, the marble around his wrist hurtled so fast that his arm felt like it was going to be ripped from its socket—and the world blurred around him.
