Shamaïra poured her own cup and huffed a sigh as she leaned back and took a long gulp. The silk of her shawl shone in the candlelight: a plum purple today that beautifully complemented her olive skin. There were dark bags beneath her eyes, which were the same blue of ice that Ana remembered.
“You’re going to ask me how I knew you were here,” Shamaïra said, stealing the words from Ana’s lips. “I’ve waited for your return, Little Tigress.” She paused, then frowned. “And you can close your mouth and wipe off that stupid expression of surprise now. You forget who I am.”
Shamaïra was an Unseer, a practitioner of a Nandjian magic that gave her the ability to see fleeting glimpses of Time: past, present, and future. Her faith consisted of two halves of a whole: Brother and Sister, light and dark, physical and metaphysical.
Ana had first met her through Yuri one moon ago, when Shamaïra had provided shelter for the Redcloaks and the Affinites they had rescued from Kerlan’s Playpen.
The thought gave her a jolt of unease now. “I met with the Redcloaks earlier, Shamaïra,” Ana said. “I thought I was meant to ally with them and we would bring down Morganya, together. But…”
“You find differences in your paths,” Shamaïra said softly. “Ibelieve you’ve met Seyin, then.”
“You’re still involved with the Redcloaks?” Ana asked.
“I do what I can. Most are so young, still children. Even the leaders are merely the age my son would be today.” Shamaïra’s tone turned hard. “But you’d best stay away from Seyin. That boy sees only his goal, and nothing else.”
“What he said, about the monarchy…” Ana frowned into her tea, the liquid swirling like her thoughts. “I couldn’t think of how to answer him. He only thinks of our differences, but we must remember that we face a common enemy.”
Shamaïra’s expression was soft, her eyes filled with understanding and wisdom of a life beyond what Ana could imagine. “Little Tigress, let me ask you this first.” The gold glow of the fire burnished the Unseer’s face. “What would you sacrifice for your empire? For your people?”
Something drew Ana’s attention to the window. In the darkness, she could just make out the silver of a trellis of winterbells, beneath which someone very precious to her lay buried in the gentle earth. A child, with ocean-eyes. The thought still cut, and the wound was fresh, but day by day, it had been getting better.
Ana swallowed, and the answer came out in a whisper. “Everything.”
Shamaïra’s eyes were sad. “I suppose that is something you will not know until the time comes,” she murmured, almost as though to herself. “Your wish to protect this empire will come at a cost. You will need to choose between two paths, for there are two Anastacyas now, my love: the girl you once were, and the ruler you will become. A day will arrive when you will be asked to sacrifice that which you hold dearest for the good of your empire.Thatis the choice you must make: which of the Anastacyas you shall be.”
The words churned in her head, but their meaning remained as elusive as smoke. How could she separate the ruler she was to become from the girl she was now? Both were an intrinsic part of who she was, one bleeding into the other. “I will always choose what is best for Cyrilia,” Ana replied. “I was there at the Imperial Inquisition, Shamaïra. I saw what Morganya is doing to my empire. I heard my people cheering for me when I took a stand against the atrocities the Whitecloaks are committing. They support me.”
Shamaïra watched her very carefully. She took another sip of tea. “Then why is it that it still seems you are trying to find your path, Little Tigress?”
“I just…” Ana gripped her teacup, thinking of Seyin, of her throne, of the way he had shifted her entire world with just a few words. “I need to speak to Yuri. We have our differences, but we need to work together to bring down Morganya first.” She let out a long breath and met the Unseer’s eyes. “I need to know if this is the right path, Shamaïra.”
Shamaïra swirled her tea and took another long drink before setting it down on the saucer. Her eyes pierced. “You will remember what I told you of my ability to see the future,” she said. “That it is equivalent to dipping a single finger in the great river of Time. The future is ever-shifting, depending on the choices thatyoumake, and those of others that inevitably shift the course of your life. I can only catch glimpses of certain events along certain paths.” She tilted her head back, her gaze growing distant. “For your path, Little Tigress, I see an ocean.”
Ana looked up. “An ocean?” It wasn’t what she had expected, in the tangled web of allies and enemies, monarchs and revolutions. “What do you mean?”
“The visions the Sister permits me to see are not always singular in purpose,” Shamaïra said. “But there must be a strong reason behind it all. The ocean represents the direction you must take in all aspects of your path. Think, Little Tigress. What might it signify?”
There were many aspects in her path that could be tied to the ocean, now that she paused to consider it. The ocean had brought her May; it had, in some ways, brought her Linn, whom Ramson was still trying to track down with his snowhawk.
Ramson. Like the ocean, he wasn’t someone she could harness or control. There was a wild freedom to his spirit that was as open as the sea.
With a start, she remembered that she was meant to meet him at the Broken Arrow—and that she was about two hours late.He’ll wait,Ana thought more aggressively than needed, determined to push him from her head and focus on the task at hand.
The ocean. There was something else. “Goldwater Port,” Ana said quietly. “That’s where I was headed.” She paused, and her voice grew soft. “Where Yuri is.”
Shamaïra watched her through heavy-lidded eyes. “There is much more to be discussed between the two of you. The path of the Empire lies in your hands.”
A shadow of doubt stole over Ana. “Seyin didn’t leave much room for negotiation when I spoke to him,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I cannot convince Yuri.”
In the light of the fire, Shamaïra suddenly looked tired; the lines of her face seemed more pronounced than they had ever been. “Seyin wants a revolution, and you want the throne. All I want is a life in what’s left of the world after all this—a life with my son, without war or bloodshed or pain. Without waking up in the middle of the night, calling his name only to find him gone.” She closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them again, they glistened with unshed tears. “I know that you’ll find, in your heart, what is best for your people. What they—whatwe—want.”
Ana gazed at Shamaïra, taking in the sight of the extraordinary woman who had crossed the Dzhyvekha Mountains and survived the Syvern Taiga, all in search of her son. She’d been fighting alongside Ana and alongside the Redcloaks all along, and yet the ordinary people did not care for the power struggles of kings and queens. When monarchs played at war, it was the people who suffered. And sooner or later, Ana thought, her gaze tightening on Shamaïra with newfound fear, it was those she loved who would bear the cost.
Abruptly, she stood. “You shouldn’t have done this,” she said quietly. “You shouldn’t have saved me, shouldn’t have brought me here….What if they come after you next?”
Shamaïra lifted her chin. “Let them try.”
Ana closed her eyes for a brief moment. Yet again someone had saved her life, offered her food and shelter; yet again she had incurred a blood debt, one that she had no means to pay at the moment.
