Ana took it. It weighed heavy in her palm, a temporary refuge from the fate that awaited her.
“The second siphon,” Ana whispered. “What happened?”
Tetsyev bowed his head. “It is with Morganya.”
She put her head in her hands, squeezing her eyes shut. Rehashing the scene from the bridge, the moment Sorsha’s body had dangled in the air, the siphon visible for all to see. “We failed,” she said quietly.
“Not all is lost,” Tetsyev said. “You did a very brave thing, Kolst Pryntsessa—”
“Don’t call me that.” She winced and softened her voice. “Call me Ana.”
The alchemist watched her for a long moment, then dipped his head. “Ana,” he said quietly, as though tasting the word on his tongue. “As I was saying, with the siphon,youhave the power to fight Morganya. The siphons cannot be used to steal power from each other, you see; by bearing the second siphon, you have evened the battlefield. You have given your side a chance to stand against her.” He paused. “Yet it does not appear she is finished in her quest for power.”
She blinked, the memory of the bridge and the words he’d spoken to her swirling back. “What do you mean?”
“Morganya searches for another artifact imbued with alchemical power,” Tetsyev said, and Ana suddenly remembered the dark room, the woman with eyes that burned with mad fervor, whispering that the Deities had left behind remnants of themselves for humans to use. “As to what this artifact does, I do not know exactly, but it seems related to the flow of alchemical power. I believe she intends to use the siphon to plug in to that endless flow of power…and take it all for herself.”
Alchemical power was the magic behind Affinities, behind ice and snow spirits and the Deities’ Lights and everything the gods were rumored to have left behind in the human world. Ana looked down at her wrist, the siphon gleaming against her skin. Even now, she could see tiny threads of darkness snaking across its surface.
It was bad enough that Morganya had a siphon—but that there was something else even more powerful…the thought made Ana feel hollow.
“Then, we either stop her, or we find this artifact before she does,” she said.
“Morganya has had a head start already,” the alchemist said quietly. “It seems information with this artifact lies in the Kemeiran Empire. About a moon ago, she sent scout teams there to retrieve the information.”
Horror seeped into Ana’s veins. “The Kemeiran Empire,” she whispered.Linn.
“I am sure they are more than capable of defending themselves. They have, after all, protected this secret for thousands of years.” Tetsyev gave her a piercing look. “The decision lies in howweare to act.”
“Strategically, it makes no sense for us to attempt to go afterit,” Ana mused. “We have fewer resources compared to Morganya and it seems we’re already far behind.” She bit her lip, her mind racing. “With my Bregonian Navy, I have the start of a formidable army.” A flash of a night with darkness absolute, broken only by the flare of torches, the chants of a distant protest she’d seen through barred windows. “And I believe the people will rally to my name, should I declare war.”
“The sentiment churns,” Tetsyev supplied. “All they need is a spark to set the tinder ablaze.”
Ana looked up, certainty gripping her. “I need to gather an army large enough to destroy Morganya before she can find this artifact.”
Tetsyev inclined his head. “I would agree.”
They fell silent, each absorbed in their thoughts, until Ana sucked in a sharp breath. “Shamaïra.” She strained to get up, but a sharp pain lanced across her midriff. “Is she all right? Where—”
Tetsyev raised his hands in a placating gesture. “She is being tended to and resting for the night—as should you,” he added, looking at her in a way that suddenly reminded her of a stern schoolteacher. “The healers have seen to your body, but you need rest. Drink this.” He handed her a vial of clear liquid that had been sitting on the makeshift table next to her pallet.
Ana drained the medicine—it tasted like syrup, sticky and sweet. A warmth spread in her stomach.
Tetsyev took the vial and set it on the floor. “The siphon you wear is dangerous, particularly for someone in your state of health,” he said, and she had the impression he was choosing all of his words delicately. “The blackstone is counterbalancing its effects—for now.”
For now.
She turned away, lifting her wrist to study the band melded into her skin. A question formed on her lips before she had time to think about it. “What’s going to happen to me?”
The Bregonian scholars had said that most of those subjected to testing siphons had died; all but Sorsha Farrald. And for the Affinites who had lost their powers, none seemed to have lived to tell the tale.
Sorsha’s siphon held Ana’s blood Affinity, and Ana had wielded it once again back at the Kateryanna Bridge. But she’d felt a subtle difference—a dullness to the once-bright tang in the Affinity she’d once wielded like an extension of herself. Now, her power rested in the siphon instead of inside her, separated by only a thin turquoise band.
The silence was what made her look up.
And there, in the helplessness in Tetsyev’s eyes, she saw a shadow of the answer even before he spoke. “The Affinites whose abilities were siphoned…none ever made it past three moons.”
Three moons. Her mind flipped through the past weeks like the chapters of a book, counting down each day: the journey through Cyrilia, the time spent at the Redcloak camp, the fortnight it had taken her to sail back…and the battle at Godhallem, when Sorsha had slit her neck and drained her Affinity.
