“Yuri, ishecoming with us—”
“Commander, surely you don’t meanshe—”
“Silence.” Yuri held up a hand. The fire in his gaze brooked no argument. “We proceed as planned. Seyin, you will work with the rescue team to retrieve Shamaïra and any other Affinites imprisoned within the Salskoff Palace. Ana will work with me to waylay Sorsha Farrald and retrieve the siphons at all costs.”
Seyin’s features twisted. “But—”
“Enough,”Yuri snarled. “I’ll not let your personal vendettas affect our mission. As a shadow Affinite, Seyin, you are crucial for our undercover rescue missions. And you, Ana, with your knowledge of siphons and all that happened in Bregon, are a valuable resource to us. I’ll need the two of you to work together for the greater good.”
Ana looked at Seyin. There was nothing in his expression that promised fair play in consideration of the greater good.
“Now thatthat’sclear,” Yuri said, straightening and turning for the door, “I must get back to supper before it ends; they’re waiting for me to make a speech.” He barely glanced back at Ana, tilting her head in her direction as he added: “Try to finish your food. You’ll need the strength. And rest early tonight.”
Then, he was gone, and Seyin with him, the firelight steadying and the shadows seeping out, leaving Ana utterly alone.
—
Ana slept fitfully that night, her dreams plagued with knives glinting in the darkness, of siphons writhing and exploding into a thousand snakes that choked her until she lost consciousness.She woke to a voice by her ear and to someone shaking her shoulders roughly.
“Ana. Ana, wake up.”
There was the flicker of a flame near her face, its warmth spilling over her cheeks. She huddled beneath her furs for a moment, fatigue casting a sluggish net over her. Then, a face crystallized before her: glittering gray eyes and hair bright as fire.
“Yuri?” Her voice was hoarse. “What’s going on?”
Yuri’s jaw was clenched. He was dressed in full battle gear, with blackstone-enforced armor that he’d obtained for their group of Redcloaks. Ana had specifically requested it, knowing iron would not work against Sorsha Farrald. “A scout has just sent word from Leydvolnya,” he said. “They’ve found Sorsha Farrald.”
She dressed quickly as Yuri waited outside. The indigo skies held only the faint promise of dawn as they crossed the short distance to the commander’s quarters.
Inside Yuri’s tent, the torches were lit; a group of Redcloaks, most of whom Ana recognized by now, huddled over the makeshift table. They’d joined in her briefing and planning sessions with Yuri: There was Lei, the silver Affinite; Yesenya with her snow Affinity; the young fire Affinite; and a lightning Affinite, among others.
“One of our scouts witnessed an unknown Affinite destroying a village en route to Salskoff.” Yuri spoke quickly to the group hunched over the map he’d spread out. “The report says…” He paused, his frown deepening. “The report says she was wielding multiple Affinities.” A chill of certainty wrapped around Ana, just as Yuri looked up, straight at her. His voice was low. “It seems everything Ana told us was accurate.”
She gave him a grim smile.
Yuri exhaled and straightened, rolling up the map and tucking it into a rucksack. “Our scouts are tracking her progress. They’ll send snowhawks with updates. Ana, you’ll travel with me by valkryf.” He looked around the table, the torchlight carving shadows under his eyes. “This is it. Let’s move out.”
Ramson pressed his misericord to Ardonn’s throat. “Rise and shine,” he crooned, and with his other hand, he tore open the moth-eaten curtains that hung limp and dusty over the window. Outside, the Syvern Taiga was but a smudge of silver, morning little more than a dream in the dark of the Cyrilian winter night.
The scholar stirred. In just one night, Ardonn’s complexion had improved tremendously: Color had seeped back into his skin like a painting restored, his previously wan complexion regaining what resembled a healthy Bregonian suntan. His eyes fluttered open; he drew a sharp breath, the muscles in his neck tightening. “Pleasant as ever, eh, Quicktongue?”
“That’s my job,” Ramson replied. Behind him, Olyusha slammed the door shut, her hemp bag slung over her shoulder. She held a new stalk of ricyn in one hand; in the other, she spun the vial of poison she’d drawn the day before. Ramson switched to the Cyrilian tongue for her benefit as he addressed Ardonn. “And what you tell us today will help dictate just how pleasant I am to you.”
The scholar swallowed, turning his gaze to the ceiling rafters.“How am I to know you won’t simply leave me to die if I tell you everything I know?” His Cyrilian was rough and halting, the vowels drawing sharper and consonants harsher.
“You can’t. But I can tell you now that I will most definitely leave you to die if youdon’t.So.” Ramson bared his teeth in a grin. “What’ll it be, Ardonn? I want answers on the siphons. On how to destroy them. On all thetheoriesyou mentioned back in the Blue Fort under interrogation.”
Ardonn gave a long-suffering sigh, his eyes darting to Olyusha, who tapped her razor-sharp nails against the glass of her vial. Her ruby lips curved in a smile.
“All right.” The scholar heaved another long exhale, as though to summon his strength. “Since you’ve upheld your end of the bargain, there’s no reason for me to hide anything any longer.” He wet his lips. “We’ve established there are traces of magek imbued in certain materials and elements. So, theoretically, there might exist an element—a type of relic—that can manipulate the existence and manifestations of magek itself.”
“Which you failed to mention in Bregon,” Ramson said pleasantly, though his heart was pounding like a hammer in his chest. He shoved the misericord harder against the scholar’s throat. “Goon.”
“Kerlan…had naval forces scouting as his trading paths expanded across the world, collecting rare minerals and elements that he believed to contain traces of magek—alchemical power—in them. He studied ice and snow spirits, water spirits, sirens, ghostwhales, the Deities’ Lights…which is how he got his hands in the searock trading business. Well…throughout his journeys, he came across rumors of an artifact of magek—oneso powerful, it could indeed manipulate magek itself. A…core of magek, if you will.”
A loud, unceremonious snort came from behind them. Ramson turned to see Olyusha covering her mouth with her hand. She shrugged. “That’s ridiculous. I’m no devout worshipper, but I believe in the Deities…and all this sounds like old fishwives’ gossip.”
“Thought you were intent on finding out all about your husband’s death,” Ardonn retorted through half-lidded eyes. “You think it was old fishwives’ gossip that created the tool to change him into a gold Affinite before it killed him, eh?”
