Ana drew herself up, lunging against her chains to gain a closer look. Before she could, the wagon came to a sudden halt, throwing her to the floor. Pain seared in her arm as her bindings stretched taut, chains clinking. In the corner, Kapitan Markov continued to stare at her with unseeing eyes.
The doors to her wagon were flung open. “Well done, Kapitan,” came a familiar voice that slithered serpentine. “We couldn’t have done this without you.”
A voice that plunged Ana into an old nightmare.
She lifted her gaze.
Vladimir Sadov, the Imperial Consultant, brought his steepled pale fingers to his curled lips. “Little Tigress,” he said softly. “Or, should I say,RedTigress now?” Her title was a mockery in his mouth. “How long I have waited to see you.”
She could sense his Affinity to fear settling over her like a thin veil, quickening her heartbeat and moistening her palms. A part of her reaction, though, was genuine. She’d spent years of her childhood in the dungeons of the Salskoff Palace, strapped to a table at this man’s fingertips, being pried and prodded at as he toyed with her Affinity, pretending he was trying to find anonexistent cure. The familiar panic now crawled up her throat; her heart thudded painfully in her chest; the wagon walls seemed to shrink.
“You,” Ana choked. She glanced behind her at Markov’s hollow expression, then back to Sadov. “What have you done to him?”
Sadov’s smile widened. “I see it’s all coming together for you,” he said, a hint of glee to his words. “Did you really think the Empress wouldn’t find out about your correspondences with dear old Kapitan Markov? She was, after all, your beloved mamika for all those years. Always watching you, and those who cared to linger around you.”
Bile rose to her tongue.
“All it took,” Sadov continued, “was some mind control, which our Kolst Imperatorya is quite adept at.” He glanced at Markov, standing statuesque in the midst of their conversation, gaze blank. “The poor old fool never knew it was coming. Turning your pawn into our pawn was a brilliant move by our Kolst Imperatorya. We gained access to your communications. We tracked your movements. We planned for this day.”
Ana’s throat closed as she beheld the guard. She wasn’t sure she could bear it if someone else she loved ended up hurt or dead because of her.
“Kapitan,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Kapitan Markov continued to look ahead serenely.
“Enough of sentiment.” Sadov snapped his fingers, and an Imperial Patrol stepped in—one who bore the new insignia of the Empress on his chest, a Deys’krug with a crown in the center. He wore armor that was paler than the blackstone-infused mail of regular Patrols. He was an Inquisitor—an Imperial Patrol withan Affinity—one of many whom Morganya had begun recruiting after her ascension to the throne, to solidify her own power and grow her army.
The Inquisitor unhooked her chains from the wall of the wagon and grabbed one of her arms. Kapitan Markov took her other one.
The move itself wasn’t painful, but Ana’s chest ached as Kapitan Markov began to haul her from the wagon. The Markov she’d known had been like a father to her when her own had turned away. He’d been the one to carry her to bed on nights when her Affinity spun out of control.
Ana closed her eyes and thought of the gentleness of his arms, the way they’d steadied her like a rock in a storm-tossed sea.
Yet as she stepped out from the wagon, a realization swept over her.
She was on shore.
She washome.
The icy soil of her empire cracked open her heart; the sharp winds breathed life into her, and she grounded herself with one thought. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to save Cyrilia.
She was escorted inside a mansion, down a dark hallway, and thrust into a room. As Ana took in her surroundings, it began to dawn on her that she was truly and firmly trapped. The room was windowless and sealed. A single blackstone chair sat in the middle of the floor like a perverse rendition of a throne. Ana had a fearful suspicion of what it was used for.
The thought had barely occurred to her when Kapitan Markov and the Inquisitor thrust her into the chair. They tightened the chains around her chest and strapped her wrists to the armrests.
“Dry her up,” Sadov commanded when they finished. Carefully, he hung a snowglobe lantern to the doorframe. Its light spilled into the jagged corners of the room. “We wouldn’t want our guest to freeze to death just yet.”
The Inquisitor nodded and raised his hands. She felt his water Affinity begin to pull out the moisture from her clothes, the droplets coalescing in the air and flowing toward him. Within seconds, her Bregonian cloak and tunic were dry, crusty with salt from the ocean.
Ana took these few moments to pull herself together. Escaping now was not a feasible option, with blackstone chains binding her arms and legs. There was no way for her to send a message to Daya and her troops—if, Ana thought with sickening dread, they had survived the attack. The Bregonian Navy was the best in the world; Ana could only trust that Morganya’s forces would be outmatched when it came to naval warfare.
The one thing Ana could do right now was to gather information. Negotiate her way out. If they’d wanted her dead, she wouldn’t be here right now.
At that moment, footsteps sounded outside, down the corridor. The doors to Ana’s chambers opened; two rows of Imperial Patrols stood outside, their livery painting them ghostly in the lowlight.
Then, like the parting waves of an ocean, they stepped back.
Morganya stood in the doorway, looking even more ethereal than the last time they’d met in the seaside trading town of Goldwater Port, before Ana had fled for the Kingdom of Bregon. Her skin was the dusk-gold of statues and crowns, and embedded like gemstones were the pale green of her eyes, the ruby-red slash of her mouth. Her hair had been sculpted into a glistening blackwreath beneath a jeweled crown of white diamonds, split in the middle by the sign of a Deys’krug. Her imperial kechyan, too, spilled from her shoulders to the floor in pristine white, silver filigree glittering as though the Deities themselves had draped it around her.
