He was panting, sweat slicking his hair, his cheeks scratched. A thin trickle of blood ran down his chin, but it was him, truly him, hazel eyes and long nose and crooked grin and all.
Behind them, the main road had grown quiet but for the sound of hooves and heels, fast approaching.
Ramson’s hand tightened around hers. Pressing a finger to his lips, he led her through the settling dust. Ana barely caught a glimpse of riders and their horses before Ramson pulled her into an empty dacha.
Shutting the wooden door as best as he could behind him, Ramson guided her to the closest wall. Ana slumped against it gratefully. In the silence, she could hear their harried breaths rising and falling as one, feel the warmth of Ramson’s hand on her hip, the other on her shoulder, holding her in place. It was dim and stark inside, the floor strewn with glass from a shattered window across from them. Sounds drifted in, and Ana could make out flashes of silver armor and white cloaks. They were surrounded; it was only a matter of time before they were discovered.
Ramson’s eyes darted around the dacha, looking for ways out—but there was only the window and the door. “How’s that Affinity of yours looking?” he whispered.
She tried to steady her breathing. “Even I can’t beat an entire army of Whitecloaks, Ramson.”
His gaze landed on her face momentarily, and he cocked a grin. “Must we always meet in the direst of situations?” he whispered, and she found her lips curling in a smile. His hand moved to stroke her waist, where her shirt was dark with blood. “What happened here?”
She shivered. He was probably trying to distract her as he came up with a plan, and she hated to admit that she was so exhausted, it was working. “The Redcloak meeting went poorly,” she said with a grimace. “It became an assassination attempt.”
Ramson’s hands tightened around her. “Gods be damned,” he swore. “I went looking for you that night.”
“And I you.” She chuckled, and then winced as her wound throbbed. “I guess we were meant to miss each other.”
At that moment, something drew her attention—a sight that sent a deep chill plunging through her heart.
Outside, the procession of Imperial Patrols had come to a stop. At the far end of the street, a figure sat astride a valkryf, almost perfectly framed by the jagged edges of the broken window. Even from afar, her skin glowed an otherworldly golden sheen, her eyes the pale green of the Rushoyt Ice Lakes of the East, her hair glistening bright and black as liquid night.
Morganya, Empress of Cyrilia, looked like a Deity among humans as she faced her army beneath a sky of gathering storm clouds. She raised a hand in command, each gesture almost ethereal. Her lips moved, and an entire army sprang to action.
“They’re going to interrogate each house,” Ana said, flaring her Affinity.
Ramson drew his misericord. His profile cut sharp against the dimness as he crossed the room to the other side of the door, his muscles tensed as he shifted his stance. “You ready,Witch?”
Outside, there was a flurry of movement, the harsh sound of fists pounding down doors. It wasn’t moments until she sensed a figure approaching.
The door creaked open.
Ana lashed out with her Affinity.
And froze.
The man outlined in the smoke and swirling shadows put a finger to his lips. The light from the broken window illuminated his pale prayer robes, and she caught the flash of his bald forehead, the whites of his eyes that bulged from his thin face. She was looking, Ana realized, into the face of the Palace alchemist, Pyetr Tetsyev.
He’d changed since they’d last seen each other over a moon ago, when he’d saved her life by feeding her a paralysis poison and declaring her dead in front of Morganya. His cheekbones were sunken, the dark bags beneath his eyes making them look even larger.
Still, she’d learned to see that face as that of her parents’ murderer.
“You,”Ana hissed, but Tetsyev slipped inside, blocking the open doorway behind him. He raised his hands.
“Please, Kolst Pryntsessa, I don’t have much time.” His voice was as thin and breathless as she remembered it, but beneath it was a sense of quiet urgency.
“How did you find us?” Ramson demanded. He remained where he was, weapon half-raised.
“I have been searching for you,” Tetsyev said, “but I can assure you that nobody else knows you’re here, and I intend to keep it that way. Now, listen carefully. Once Morganya rounds up the non-Affinites in this area, she’s going to move on. As soon as she does, you must take to the back alleys. Make for the docks.”
Ana narrowed her eyes. “Why are you helping us?”
“Because I need your help in return.” Tetsyev brought his hands together, as though in prayer. “I saved your life that night, because I knew the Empire would need you someday.” The words sent shivers up Ana’s spine. “The time has come. Morganya has purged the Salskoff Palace of dissenting councilmembers; the rest she continues to influence under her Affinity to the mind. Her Imperial Inquisition sweeps across the land.”
“I know,” Ana said quietly. Her voice rang hollow to herears.
“Ah, but there is something you don’t know. Something that could change the tides of this war, forever. Something that could change thisworld.” His gaze focused on her with sharp intent. “You and I both know that Morganya is not interested in making a better, fairer world for Affinites. She uses that to justify her ruthless hunger for more power—always, more power.” Tetsyev closed his eyes briefly, and Ana thought of what he’d told her once, that he and Morganya had known each other for a long, long time. “Her quest for power has led her to uncover a powerful artifact in Bregon.”
