Bregon. Ana froze, Shamaïra’s words whispering to her.For your path, Little Tigress, I see an ocean.
“What kind of an artifact?” she breathed.
Tetsyev lowered his voice. “I have heard that it can bestow Affinities unto its bearer. In alchemy, we have blackstone, which inhibits Affinities. Yaegers can manipulate existing powers. But this thing…this artifact seems tocreateit.”
“That’s impossible.” If what Tetsyev was saying was true, then it was a dangerous weapon—and it would make its user powerful beyond imagination.
Tetsyev shook his head. “It does not make sense, under the laws of alchemy. The source of power in this world is finite. To give an Affinity to someone who does not already possess it…to give someonemultipleAffinities…it must come at a terrible cost.” He paused, his eyes drifting to the window and then back to Ana. “You know the lengths she is willing to go in order to solidify her power.” His eyes glittered, suddenly dark. “She is here to destroy anyone in her way.”
From across the room, Ramson spoke. “Well, what is this artifact? Where in Bregon can we find it?”
“It seems to have existed for many years already, hidden away and unbeknownst to the world. But someone made her aware of it when she took the throne, and she has been pursuing it relentlessly since. I do not know it, but I have seen its creations, an experiment sent from Bregon consisting of an Affinite with multiple powers.” He shut his eyes briefly, as though trying to block a memory out. “Youmustfind a way to warn Bregon. If Morganya acquires it, then she will be unstoppable.”
Through the half-open door, footsteps thundered past; voices drifted on the wind. Tetsyev paused to listen. “I must leave you now,” he said. “I will inform them there was no one in this dacha.”
“Wait.” Ana swallowed, hating that she needed to ask anything of him. “If you have news of the Palace…are Kapitan Markov and Lieutenant Henryk safe?”
Tetsyev paused, looking over his shoulder. “They are,” he said softly. “They await your orders upon your return.”
Before she could say anything else, he turned and swept the door shut behind him. The last that Ana saw of him were his eyes, wide and pale, lingering on her.
Ramson crossed the room to her. He was breathing hard, his gaze narrowed as he glanced at the door where the alchemist had stood just seconds ago. “We’re about to find out if Tetsyev was lying,” he said, his grip tightening on his weapon. “Ready?”
Through the window, Ana watched Tetsyev hurry to Morganya’s side in the distance. Their exchange seemed to last forever. The seconds trickled by. Ana held her breath.
At last, Tetsyev bowed and stepped aside.
Her relief was short-lived. Ana watched as Imperial Patrols brought several civilians toward where Morganya stood, lining them up in a row. She had a terrible premonition of what was to happen.
She could stop this. She was the only one who had the power to stop this.
She could try to end it all, right now.
“Ana.” Ramson’s voice cut through the silence, as though he could hear her thoughts.
“She’s right there, Ramson.” She clenched her fists as the wound in her back gave another sharp throb. “I could—”
“No.” Ramson closed the gap between them. “There are probably a hundred Imperial Patrols here, Ana. I’ll fight you if I must, but I’m not risking losing you again.”
Her eyes stung—whether from his words, or from the scene outside, or both, she couldn’t tell. In the distance, Morganya raised her hands, and the men and women before her fell to their knees. They held still, rigid under the control of Morganya’s flesh Affinity. Desperately, Ana scanned their faces, her heart jumping to her throat as she searched for a glimpse of red hair, of gold ponytails. She hated herself for the slightest loosening of her stomach that followed; was it fair that she should feel relief that these were strangers instead of her friends? Was it fair that she was letting them die to save her own life? That promise that things would change once she was Empress had never seemed so distant in this moment, as Ana stood by and watched six lives await their deaths.
Ramson exhaled, a sharp sigh. In a sudden motion, he pulled Ana forward, and his arms closed tightly around her. He was comforting her, but also sending her a message: that if she wanted to get to Morganya, then first she had to go throughhim.
The civilians’ pleas drifted to her through the open window as their empress raised her other hand and brought it down.
Flesh tore. Bodies fell. Blood warmed Ana’s senses, growing white-hot against her Affinity as it snaked across the cobblestones. Ana held very still, but she forced herself to watch all of it, to remember this moment.
Morganya lifted her head, and this time, her words were faint but audible. “Let it be known what happens to traitors and oppressors who refuse to bow to me,” she said, and swung her horse around. “Forward.”
The images of the bodies and the blood seared into Ana’s mind, remaining even after the hooves and footsteps of the Imperial Inquisition faded.
Ramson stepped back. His hands were tentative against her shoulders as he searched her face for clues.
Ana met his gaze. “One day, I’m going to kill her,” she said quietly.
Ramson nodded. “I know.” He held out his hands. “But for now, we need to get out of here.”
The streets of Goldwater Port were empty when they emerged. Quietly, they slipped into the deserted back alleys, Ramson’s steps quick and sure as he led them forward. Overhead, the sky had darkened, the peaceful, golden glow of the morning having given way to the smell of a storm. The air grew thick with the stench of smoke. Gradually, there came screams and shouts, drifting to them on briny winds.
