Her hands darted to her chest in an instinctive sign of prayer. She had been so certain, back in the Temple of Deities, that she would be able to save May herself. Yet now she would give anything to have the Deities answer her prayers.
“Ana.” Ramson had paused on the steps. For a moment, he looked as though he was struggling to find words. And then he said, “We’re late.”
They were, and May could be down there. She had to be.
Ana drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She gave a curt nod and followed Ramson down the steps, into the darkness.
The descent seemed to last an eternity. Torches blazed from sconces in the walls, and the stairway was silent but for the swish of Ana’s skirts and the clack of Ramson’s boots.
Gradually, she began to hear a faint sound: At first, it was no louder than a buzz, yet it grew in volume until it became a rhythmic, pulsing beat.
The spiraling stairs gave way to a long, dark corridor that stretched before them, where the steady pounding noise emanated like a living thing. Ramson’s dark mask glittered in the torchlight. Clad in his black peacoat and hidden behind his jeweled mask, he looked like a phantasmal creature of the night.
Ana found his eyes—sharp and intelligent. Their gazes locked, a ghost of a smile flitted across his face, and he gave an almost imperceptible nod.After you.
Ana lifted her chin.After me.
The corridor turned and opened up. Beyond an arched stone doorway was a vast auditorium with a sprawling stage, lit by flickering torches. Four tall stone pillars punctured each corner of the stage, with faux-marble renditions of the Deities atop each one. Higher up, empty balcony seats encircled the auditorium.
A strange feeling—of cold, of hollowness—wrapped around her like a nearly imperceptible cloak. For some reason, this place brought back memories of darkness, of helplessness.
The drums continued to pound from somewhere behind the stage. People milled about, torchlight lancing off the precious stones on their masks. Their expensive furs rustled as they clinked glasses of wine, the gold jewelry on their arms flashing as they tipped drinks back in laughter.
“What does this show entail?” Ana whispered to Ramson as they squeezed past a tiger-masked couple. The stage, she saw as they drew closer, was built of blue-veined marble, its edges gilded. The pillars were festooned with expensive silks and silver ribbons, the sapphire curtains made of rich, heavy velvet. The stage itself seemed to have a strange, almost surreal quality to it—something Ana couldn’t quite put her finger on, no matter how hard she looked at it.
“They make Affinites perform using their abilities,” Ramson replied, gently cleaving apart two drunk noblewomen. His hand slipped back, locking around hers, and she nearly jumped. Her heart skittered in an unfamiliar beat. “The nobles pay for good entertainment. And it’s a cover. Some never know about the contract dealings in the back.”
Ana shuddered. “The Affinites, don’t they ever try to run? Even the weakest could put up a good fight against a non-Affinite.”
Ramson tilted his head and pointed, drawing her attention to the viewing alcoves several levels up. “In a few minutes, a marksman is going to appear in every single one of those. They have Deys’voshk-tinged arrows, and they shoot to kill.” He nodded at the stage. “Look closely there.”
Ana squinted and suddenly realized what had made the stage seem so strange. Behind the four pillars, walls of blackstone-infused glass almost as high as the viewing alcoves encircled the entire stage, leaving an area in the front center for a host.
Blackstone. The cold, the feeling of emptiness she’d felt as she’d stepped into this room made more sense now. The same she’d felt each time Sadov took her to that room in the dungeons.
Ramson’s tone was grim when he said, “If any Affinite tries anything, they’ll be shot before they can even crack the glass.”
The design was cruel but efficient; no Affinity could reach past the blackstone-infused glass, which meant the Affinites were limited to the resources they were given for their performances. No wonder none of them had tried to escape.
Ana remembered pushing against the Salskoff dungeons’ blackstone doors, reaching out with her Affinity and only sensing cold black nothingness. When her throat was raw from screaming and her tears were spent, she’d been reduced to huddling against them, shaking and scratching at them with bloodied nails.
She shook the memory away, focusing on a different question. “How do you know all this?”
Ramson’s jaw tightened. “I’ve been to a few of these shows before. I’ve seen how it works. The people here can negotiate purchases of Affinite employment contracts as the night goes on. It’s all done discreetly behind closed doors.” He paused. “That’s what we need to try for once we see May perform.”
She pulled her hand from his, suddenly cold. Of course Ramson knew of these shows—he was a criminal, an underground crook. But she had to ask—she had to know. “Ramson,” she said, and her voice was barely a breath. “Did you ever…were you ever one ofthem? A broker?”
“No.” The word cut with truth, yet something in his eyes made her insurmountably sad as he turned them to her. “But watching it happen is another crime in itself, is it not?”
She had no answer to that. Ana shuddered and turned away just as the drumbeats came to a sudden stop. As though on cue, the crowd erupted into wild cheers. A figure strode onstage, in front of the blackstone-infused glass wall and velvet curtains within. He was a clean-cut, gold-haired man who wore his charm like his navy-blue silk waistcoat: diamond-studded and glittering and sewn to the collar with flashing gold thread. When he waved, the bejeweled rings on his fingers glimmered as they caught the torchlight. “Mesyrs, meya damas, and all other guests!” he cried in a booming voice that resonated across the entire auditorium. “Are you ready for tonight’s show?”
The crowd’s screams grew louder and became a chant. “Bogdan! Bogdan! Bogdan!”
“That’s the Penmaster,” Ramson explained.
The Penmaster—Bogdan—raised his hands, beaming. “We have an excellent program planned for you tonight! Watch a formidable Ice Queen give us a prelude to the Fyrva’snezh! A Wood Nymph grows flowers from thin air! A Marble-Maker creates stunning statues! And, don’t miss it: our Steelshooter battles a Windwraith to the death! Who will make it out alive? There’s only one thing we know, and it is thatyouwill all leave happy!”
The crowd erupted with cheers and applause. Ana’s stomach tightened, but she stayed silent as she watched a scene that should never have existed unfold before her eyes.
