“Hello, May,” Ana murmured.
The wind picked up, and for a moment, Ana could swear she heard a soft chime of laughter.
“I’ve kept my promise,” she said. “I only wish you were here to see it.”
She stayed there until Ramson said gently, “Ten minutes to the ceremony. We’d better get back.”
Ana patted the trellis. Among the white winterbells, color bloomed: New flowers were beginning to bud, their purples and pinks and reds and yellows like gems in the sun.
“Thank you, Ramson,” she said, turning to face him.
Her heart was at peace as she walked, Ramson’s fingers warm and steady between hers. They entered the Collegium through the back doors and, together, found Kaïs and Daya in discussion with several other members of the government transition process at the Hall of Deities. Down the corridor, the great doors of the Collegium had been thrown open, and from here, Ana could hear the crowd gathered in the courtyard, waiting for her. Their conversation drifted to her, faint and steady.
A figure appeared through the doors. Liliya was slightly breathless as she half jogged down the Hall of Deities. “We’re all set up,” she said. “They’ve opened the main gates and people are lined up to watch. You won’t believe the crowd!” She flung her arms around Ana, her bright red hair obscuring Ana’s vision for a moment. “You’re going to begreat.”
A hush had fallen all around them; the courtyard outside seemed to have gone silent.
Ana drew a deep breath. “It’s time,” she said.
Every step she took seemed to echo with finality. The Hall of Deities was bathed in golden light, from its great marble floors to its high arched ceilings. Above, the intricate carvings of Deities and humans and history intertwined in one grand mosaic, painting the sweeping tale of the former Empire and all that had come before.
She recalled walking through this very hall, wondering what kind of a story they would write of her after she was long gone.
Sunlight warmed her face, and the cheers of the crowd grew louder as they drew near.
Ana lifted her head high and threw her shoulders back, the smile on her face true and bright as the blazing sun.
Today, she had the answer to that question. She knew what stories the poets would tell of her, what songs the bards would sing of Anastacya Kateryanna Mikhailov, last heir of Cyrilia.
She knew what kind of a legacy she would leave.
Ana tilted her chin up and stepped out of the shadows.
Into the light of the new world.
It was nearing dawn when the shores of Kemeira appeared, a stretch of black along a horizon rimmed silver. The stars had receded overhead, and a watery blue had seeped into the ink-black of night.
Linn leaned against the wooden railing of her ship, letting the wind run through her hair. After a sleepless night, she’d risen early; the deck was still empty. Behind loomed the jagged shapes of the rest of the Kemeiran fleet.
Ana’s letter to the Emperor of Kemeira was tucked into the folds of her shirt, the weight of her task draped peacefully over her shoulders.Ambassador to Kemeira.It was only a temporary title, and if Linn so wished, she could apply for reelection.
She hadn’t. She had found a better use for her blades, a new direction that opened before her like the call of destiny.
“Ko Linnet.”
She turned, the familiar voice sending shivers up her spine. Fong shi’sen approached her from the lower decks, his pale shift billowing in the wind.
Linn pressed her palms together. “Shi’sen.”
“I have received word from the Temple Masters,” her WindMaster continued. Linn looked at him in surprise. She had not known that he had written to them. “The Temple Masters and the Emperor have unanimously acknowledged your courage and bravery as a Daughter of the Kemeiran Empire.” Fong shi’sen’s face crinkled in a shadow of a smile, fleet as a passing breeze. “They wish to express their gratitude by awarding you the highest accolade of our land.”
Suddenly, Linn couldn’t breathe.
“We would be honored for you to join us, Wind Warrior.”
The title was only given to the highest-ranking wind wielders in her land, once they had completed their training. It was one of the greatest honors that could be bestowed upon a windsailer.
It was what she would have given her life for.
