There were screams from inside, and several thuds. And then a man was dragged out, his wrists bound by the sawdust ropes.
The Inquisitor twirled his hand, and the man was lifted to his knees. He was pleading with them. “Please, mesyrs, I’m just a cobbler—I haven’t done anything wrong—”
“Show me your identification papers,” the Inquisitor ordered.
Ana’s stomach turned. Suddenly, she was no longer in Novo Mynsk. She was in another town, in another market square, and a squad of Whitecloaks looked down at her, their cloaks glistening crimson in the setting sun.Your employment or identification papers.
“I—I can go fetch them, if you’ll allow me,” the cobbler begged. “They’re inside, just not on me right now—”
“By the Imperial Decree of Her Majesty, anyone caught without identification papers must be brought in for further investigation.” The Inquisitor paused, and even from here, Ana could see the white slice of a smile parting his lips. “Besides…we received a tip that you might be hiding dissenters of the regime.” He motioned at the other Whitecloaks behind him. “Search the dacha.”
Thiswas the true purpose of their visit. Ana watched in horror as the remaining three Whitecloaks burst into the dacha. There were muffled shouts, and moments later, a group of people emerged, the Whitecloaks’ swords at their backs.
The Inquisitor’s smile widened. “Harboring fugitives, arewe?”
In the group of people, though, Ana’s gaze caught on one: a little girl, barely taller than her captor’s waist. She shivered against the grasp of a Whitecloak.
“Please, mesyr,” the cobbler begged. “There’s been a misunderstanding. None of us ever trafficked Affinites—we were simply afraid—”
“Are you aware that resisting the Imperial Inquisition is against the law?” The Inquisitor’s voice bore the force of a man with power.
“Please, mesyr—”
“In the absence of papers and without an Affinity, we do not have sufficient proof thatanyof you did not participate in the trafficking and oppression of Affinites,” the Inquisitor continued, raising his voice. “Hence, we place you under arrest for violating Her Majesty’s Imperial Decree for Affinite Equality.”
Ana’s hands clenched. This was not promoting equality. This was mistreatment of the law, and abuse of power. Morganya was using her forces to quell any disobedience under new, arbitrary laws. She was cementing her power, stamping out any possible form of resistance before it even began.
Ana couldn’t just stand there and watch.
“Papa,” the little girl cried as the Whitecloaks began to haul the cobbler away. She stumbled after him. “Papa—”
One of the Whitecloaks turned and backhanded her across her face.
The slap echoed across the streets. The child fell to the ground, blood welling in her mouth. Red bled into Ana’s vision. She was once again in the dusty square at Kyrov, watching as a Whitecloak aimed his arrow toward May. Back then, she’d been helpless to stop it.
Before she knew it, she had stepped out and was walking steadily toward the group, toward the little girl kneeling in the snow at the Whitecloaks’ feet.
The Whitecloak looked up, his gaze locking on her. She sensed it then, a hint of a cold and unyielding touch brushing against her Affinity.
Yaeger.
She’d encountered one before: an Affinite with the power to control other Affinities. Back then, he’d snuffed out her Affinity as easily as a candle.
She’d learned her lesson from that.
Ana plunged her Affinity through his power before he could get a proper grip. Without blackstone in his armor to protect him, she seized his blood easily, lifting him bodily into the air, and hurled him forward with all her strength.
His body cracked against the brick wall of a dacha.
The rest of the Imperial Patrols slowed to a halt. For a moment, they stared at the wall, where the yaeger slumped, the pool of blood beneath him reflecting the streetlamps above.
And then their attention turned to Ana.
The Inquisitor extracted his sawdust ropes, leaving the cobbler standing in the snow, and lashed out, ropes whistling—
They fell limply to the snow.
The Inquisitor doubled over, falling to his knees. Blood poured down his chin, dribbling out from his nose and mouth. Ana gritted her teeth, and with another sharp twist of her power, the man collapsed.
