There is yet work to be done,said Yuri, his hair bright as flame.
And then, from what seemed like a world away, Ana heard her name.
She turned, and the shadows grew clearer. More solid. More real. A girl with hair like ink, her gaze rimmed silver like the edgeof daggers. A second, a friend, with a face as open and steady as the earth and strong hands made for sailing.
And a boy—a boy with bright hazel eyes that pierced her heart.
The warmth began to fade; it grew cold, the air around her frosted, winds kissing her skin with the tinge of ice and sharpness. Her body, which had seemed to drift like smoke earlier, turned heavy.
Ana’s eyes flew open, and she drew in breath.
Four weeks later
The Salskoff Palace materialized from the fog of her memory. Ana had known the Palace intimately, from the plush, silver-carpeted hallways to the secret passageways reserved for servants and caretakers.
Not that there would be any of those, any longer.
Ana walked down the halls, marveling at how quickly change took place. Gone were the marble statues of the Deities, the gilded paintings and opulent gems that had glittered on furniture. Only the ceiling engravings and the marble floors remained. The dungeons, Ana knew, were being destroyed, their prisoners sent to a holding house for their cases to be examined and presented before a jury of the people. Most, she had an inkling as she’d pored through the scant notes on their cases, would be acquitted and set free.
But those were far from the most important changes that would take place here.
Ana stopped at the door to the chamber once known as the Grand Throneroom. Now, a carved marble sign hung above it:Great Lecture Hall, Salskoff Collegium.
Voices rang out from within, and as she leaned against thefamiliar cherrywood doors, she swept the long hall with a gaze. Chairs had been laid out, and people were clustered inside, dressed in regular Cyrilian furs and leathers. They were all Affinites—and some she recognized as former Redcloaks, others as former Inquisitors. Their attention was directed to the man who stood in the front of the room, speaking.
Kaïs paused as he caught Ana’s gaze. He cleared his throat and said to the room, “This will be all for today. You’re welcome to attend the Transition Ceremony—it will be open to the public.”
Ana smiled as he approached her, steps ringing clear. He was dressed in a casual shirt and tunic; the absence of his armor seemed to take several years off him so that when he stopped before her, she had the impression she was gazing upon a tall, bright-eyed boy.
“Hello, instructor,” she said. She was dimly aware of murmurs around the room as people spotted her.
Kaïs returned her smile. “I believe the correct term is ‘First Guide,’ or ‘Fyrva Provyod.’ ”
The Salskoff Palace had been renamed as the Salskoff Collegium: a school for Affinites to learn to control and harness their abilities, funded by a portion of the coin from what had once been the Cyrilian Imperial coffers. Former yaegers—now known as “provyods,” or “guides”—from Morganya’s Imperial Patrols had been offered jobs as instructors, and today was the Collegium’s opening.
“Any word from Linn?” Ana asked as she and Kaïs began to walk toward the front of the Collegium together. “Has she arrived safely?”
Linn had elected to stand in as the Ambassador to Kemeira for one last time; she had set sail for Kemeira with the rest of thewindsailers a little over three weeks ago with a letter from Ana to declare the end of the Cyrilian Empire—and its transition to the Republic of Cyrilia. She had written asking to rekindle relations between Kemeira and Cyrilia…and to propose a partnership to eliminate the channels of Affinite trafficking that had once pervaded their lands.
“Not yet,” Kaïs replied. “But I suspect it won’t be long now.”
“Are you sure you wish to remain?” Ana asked. “You don’t wish to join Shamaïra on her journey?”
Of all reunions, it was perhaps seeing Kaïs and Shamaïra together that had warmed Ana’s heart the most. The Unseer was making a long-overdue trip to her homeland; she was leaving today, after the Transition Ceremony.
Kaïs’s brow creased slightly. “I have thought this over,” he replied in that steady, careful way of his, “and I do wish to see Nandji again. But, whether willingly or unwillingly, I came to Cyrilia at a young age, and it is now my home as well. I will not step away when there is so much of a chance to make it better right now.” His pale blue eyes flicked to her, and his lips curled a bit. “Besides, there is so much to do.”
“That’s right, and we’ll need all the help we can get,” came a familiar voice.
Daya strode down the corridor to them, a giant roll of parchment clasped in her hands. She waved it at Ana. “I’ve drawn up the full list of applicants for the General Elections.”
Ana accepted the list, her heart soaring as she skimmed the names. She recognized quite a few as Cyrilians who had enlisted in her army and fought with her. There were a number of former Redcloaks running for office as well, including Liliya, who had been helping to rally the Redcloaks to the cause of the transition.
Most important, though, were the many, many names she did not recognize—ordinary civilians hailing from all regions and corners of the former Empire.
Ana ran a thumb over the parchment. Here was the future of Cyrilia, writ into parchment and ink. She smiled at the memory of a boy with sparks in his coal-gray eyes, long ponytail like the shimmer of flame.The future lies here, with us. In the hands of the people.
“Thank you, Daya,” she said.
