Ana’s stomach twisted; she wrenched against her chains so hard that she felt a searing pain across her arm, blood spiraling down her skin. “I…truly don’t know where it is, mamika,” she choked out.
Morganya’s gaze was flat. Then, she exhaled. “I tire of this,” she said, and slashed her hand down.
Time seemed to slow. There was Markov, swaying where he stood, blood pouring from his neck. He blinked and his face shifted, as though he’d jolted out of a long slumber. His gaze came to focus on Ana.
Slowly, he fell onto the floor, blood pooling under him and running along the wood, steam curling into the winter air. His hands—those hands that had protected her since she’d been born—shook as they tried to stem the flow of blood.
It felt like a lifetime before he grew still. His eyes, the swordmetal gray she’d known her entire life, stared out at her, his mouth open.
Someone was screaming. No,shewas screaming. She was dimly aware of someone shaking her shoulders, of a gag being stuffed in her mouth.
Sadov stood over her, teeth glinting in the semidarkness as he spoke. “Kolst Deys’va Imperatorya, shall I take over?”
Ana heard Morganya’s reply. “Yes. Break her, Vladimir, as you so excel at it.”
Sadov’s smile stretched, his long white fingers tapping together as he settled into the chair.
The Empress swept past Markov’s body without a second glance. The door shut with a clang, and Ana was left with a pale-fingered monster in the darkness and the still-cooling body of her faithful guard.
Sadov leaned forward. “Let’s begin, shall we?” he said softly. And then the nightmares descended, flooding her mind and body.
Ana doubled over in her chair, screaming even as tears carved tracks down her cheeks like blood.
The Blue Fort looked as it always had: regal, powerful, and impenetrable. Sitting atop high cliffs that faced the ocean with a zigzag path of waterways, its searock walls gleamed beneath the setting sun: a symbol of Bregonian might, overlooking the Four Seas.
Ramson leaned against the mast of his ship, watching as they drew closer to the wide marble steps that led to Godhallem, the meeting hall of Bregon’s Three Courts. It still felt strange, almost unnatural, for him to be here. Less than one moon ago, he’d returned to the kingdom of his birth after spending an eternity away.
Gazing at the cobalt waves of his birth home, he couldn’t help but think of a different shore. A land scraped raw by winter, frozen beneath layers of ice and snow, and imbued with its own wild and untamed beauty.
A land that had come to mean something to him.
A land that held someone who had come to mean something to him.
He let out a sharp breath and glanced behind him. Five of his officers were preparing to escort Ardonn into the halls of Godhallem, directly to the King and the Three Courts.
The scholar hadn’t yielded a single word throughout the course of their half-day journey. For the entire afternoon, Ramson’s squad healer, Iversha, had tended to him, clearing the smoke from his lungs and feeding him tonics meant to soothe the harsh effects of the ricyn poison. But when Ramson visited his prisoner’s quarters belowdecks, the man had lain stone-still, staring at the ceiling.
I’m afraid it won’t be a happy ending for your blood princess.
He gripped the railing tighter, then pushed off to walk to the front of the ship to disembark. A seadove had been sent ahead; the King and the Three Courts would be expecting their arrival.
Royal Guards lined the marble steps. They clicked their heels together and saluted as the gangplank was lowered and Ramson disembarked trailed by his squad, marching tightly in formation. The supply wagons with Kerlan’s documents would be unloaded; in the meantime, Ramson had selected samples to be brought to the King. First Officer Narron hurried at his heels, several thick tomes balanced in his arms.
Ramson had spent the boat ride poring over the documents rescued from Kerlan’s Nest. He’d known all too well what they were; he’d spent years keeping similar records for Goldwater Port. The papers were trade ledgers, some containing transactions between Cyrilia and Bregon, others between Kerlan and his suppliers across the Kingdom of Bregon. Most troubling were the ledgers that had contained not goods, butnames.It was evident that the global Affinite trafficking network—which Kerlan had been a part of—stretched much farther and much deeper than Ramson had ever known.
Once upon a time, he might have averted his gaze, returned to his own business. But today, the discovery had left Ramsonfeeling sick. He’d perused those lists, faces swimming in the back of his mind: a child with ocean-colored eyes and hair like waves, a solemn-faced warrior with a gaze like blades. May and Linn had once been on a ledger just like the ones they’d found. An entire human being, alife,reduced to a few letters and a sum on a long list.
“Captain Farrald.” A voice jolted him from his thoughts. Lieutenant Ronnoc of the King’s Guard stood before him, giving a sharp salute. “This way.”
In just the two weeks that he’d been away, Godhallem—and the rest of the Blue Fort—had undergone remarkable repairs. Most of it had been destroyed during the battle against Alaric Kerlan. The last time Ramson had seen the place, wooden beams had been erected and crates of stone and supplies were piled everywhere.
Now, the marble steps had been reconstructed, and the newly painted doors opened into the hall of gods.
Most of the searock in Godhallem had been replaced by regular stone, creating intersections of the undulating turquoise material and gray rock. On either side of the hall sat the Sky and Earth Courts, more of their seats now filled with new faces. The Sea Court occupied the far end, where the walls opened to cliffs that plunged down into the sea. A veranda had been built, complete with a balustrade. Gossamer curtains billowed gently in the breeze, and sunlight streamed through, pooling in the middle of the chamber.
King Darias stood in the center of the hall. In just weeks, the boy, who was several years Ramson’s junior, seemed to have grown into his crown. He carried himself with gravitas, his smileweighing heavy but kind as he shook hands with new courtiers bearing the seals of the Three Courts.
He looked up, a strand of black hair escaping his crown. At the sight of Ramson, his face broke into a boyish grin.
