“Who ever told you I needed saving?” she snapped.
“Your Affinity has been siphoned,” Ramson retorted. “And if we don’t find a way to reverse it, you’re going to die. But—there is a way, Ana.”
She gave him a cold, flat look, and it was then that Ramson understood two things. First: that she knew. And second: that she didn’t plan on doing anything about it.
He stood abruptly, wrapping a set of furs around his midriff as he strode across the room to her. She blinked. Confusion broke through the ice on her face as she backed away, stopping only when she ran into the wall.
Ramson reached for her. She flinched, and he let his hand fall to his side. Something stretched taut inside him. They were so close now that he could feel the warmth of her breaths against his face, hear the rustle of her cloak against the wall. “Ana,” he said, very clearly. “I’m not leaving you, and I’m not going to let you die.”
Her jaw clenched; she stared back at him, unyielding. “I never said I needed you,” she said, the words cutting like glass. “My only goal now, Ramson, is to raise an army to defeat Morganya before she destroys this empire once and for all.”
He wrested his voice into patience. “Ana, please hear me out. There is an artifact imbued with alchemical power that candestroy the siphons and reverse your condition—one with more power than any other known artifact. It’s believed to be the core of alchemical power—of magic—in this world.”
“A core of magic,” she repeated quietly, and recognition slitted into her eyes. “I know about it.”
He loosed a breath; a laugh of relief slipped from him. “So we should be searching for it.”
Ana was silent for several moments. Her next words came under a veil of caution. “I’ve spoken about this with Tetsyev already. I believe it’s the same one Morganya is after. We don’t know enough about this artifact—what it is, where it is—to be able to find it before Morganya does. She’s been searching for the past moon and studying it for even longer.” She drew herself tall. “The move that makes the most strategic sense right now, Ramson, is for me to focus on raising an army so that I can march upon Salskoff Palace before Morganya siphons more Affinities, and intercept her before she finds this artifact.”
“Strategically,”Ramson said, “going after this artifact is the best choice. It’s three fish with one hook, Ana: Stop Morganya, reverse the effect of the siphons, and save your life.”
“It is the risky choice, and you know that,” she retorted.
“A risk I’d be willing to take,” he replied without missing a beat.
Her gaze was flat. “Then it’s a good thing I’m the one making the decision, Ramson, because I’m not willing to stake the fate of this entire empire on a chance when there’s already a certain path to victory.” Ana drew her cloak tight around herself and lifted her chin in a gesture that he knew all too well. “If there’s nothing else, Ramson, I have a campaign to plan.”
He didn’t try to stop her as she pushed past him, the cold rushing in to fill the space where she had been. His hands fell to his sides.
“So that’s it?” he said. The silver moonlight and soft whispers of the night before faded; in their place were cold, black waters, and he felt as though he were drowning again, just as he had when Jonah had died. “Last night—”
“Was a mistake,” Ana replied, her face unmoving as ice. “I’ve told you before, and I’ll say it again: I’ll never care for anything other than this empire, and its people. Even if it’s no longer mine.”
He had no idea what to say.
She was breaking his heart.
Ana looked away. She was breathing harder now, her lips pale and her face wan, as though their conversation had drawn what little strength remained in her. One hand clasped over her ribs—a subtle move, but one that he caught, nevertheless. A trickle of blood threaded down to the curve of her lips; she reached up to swipe it away, as though it had become a habit. “If you want to stay here and work with me, I could use your help in my campaign, in training the new recruits.”
There was a roaring sound in his ears, the swell of an icy river, engulfing him. The water was too high; there was no going back and, Ramson could see from the jut of her chin, the glare in her eyes, no changing her mind.
“I know there’s not much in it for you,” Ana continued, “and I’d understand if you chose to leave. It’s what you’re best at, isn’t it, Ramson Quicktongue?”
The flood in his mind rose to a scream, a deluge—and suddenly, fell silent.
“It’s Farrald now.” His voice was strangely smooth, devoid of emotion.
Her gaze flickered; the hardness of her face disappeared, and he was suddenly reminded of the moment he’d realized that he’d begun to fall for her. Fyrva’snezh, the First Snows, beneath the slow twirl of flakes from a night sky, when she’d asked him to choose to be good.
“I’m glad we cleared that up,” Ana said. Her voice was quiet, the fire within extinguished, given way to hollow darkness. “I apologize if you assumed anything of last night.”
She pushed the door open. A whirl of cold wind blasted into the dacha, sweeping gusts of snow between them. He felt trapped beneath a thick layer of ice, watching as the woman he’d searched for his entire life turned and walked away from him. It was in this moment that Ramson was hit with a crushing realization: that all along, Roran Farrald had spoken true. Love was a weakness.
Ana stepped outside, and the door slammed shut behind her.
Ramson stood there, the space where they’d spent the night together suddenly closing in on him, suddenly suffocating.
I’d understand if you chose to leave. It’s what you’re best at, isn’t it, Ramson Quicktongue?
