“I suppose that is the most difficult of all,” she said quietly. “It takes courage to admit that someone you love is wrong. And it takes courage to stand against them.”
Tetsyev gave her a watery smile. “Courage, I do not possess in any comparison to you,” he said. “I know I cannot repent for the sins I have committed in this life, but I must keep trying. I have no clear reason to give you as to why I left her side…perhaps I felt that time was coming to an end, that her choices were hurtling toward an inevitable conclusion, one from whichhumankind will not recover. I suppose the most difficult thing to understand in this world might be our own minds.” He paused. “And I may never stop loving her. But I must choose to do what is right.”
Ana nodded. In this world, the line between good and bad, right and wrong, was nonexistent; it all blended together in a murky in-between of gray.
And yet, they all continued forward, moving—hopefully—toward that light.
She stood, her long crimson cloak falling to the ground. It trailed behind her like blood as she walked. “My only priority right now is raising my army and intercepting Morganya before she can find this third relic.” She paused, turning to look at Tetsyev. “But if you think there is a chance of finding out what this relic is…then I want you to continue your research, on the side.”
The alchemist’s eyes were heavy. “If there is a chance, it is a slim one.”
“Fortunately for you, I don’t like to sit around staking my bets on slim chances,” came a familiar voice.
Ana spun. Outlined in the doorframe, hair tousled and clothes windswept and covered in a dusting of snow, was Ramson.
Her mind blanked. She had taken care to direct her thoughts away from him all day, and she’d presumed the same of him after she’d stormed out on him in the morning. Seeing him was like opening a fresh wound.
Ramson’s smile cut. There was something different about him, as though he’d reverted back to the old version of himself, the one she’d met moons ago in the graylight of a prison cell. “I like to keep expectations low so the people around me can be pleasantlysurprised once in a while,” he said casually, strolling in. His gaze flicked up. Held Ana’s. “Certainly beats the other way around.”
Ana’s face hardened. “What do you want?”
Ramson turned to the door and gestured. The next moment, a squad of his guards came in, carrying a wheelchair between them. A man sat in it, face gaunt, skin sallow; he had the markings of a Bregonian tan that had long faded.
“Ardonn, meet the Red Tigress,” Ramson said, motioning. “Ana, meet Ardonn, former scholar of the Blue Fort and part of Kerlan’s siphon team.”
Ana’s breath caught. She looked to Ramson. “What are you doing?”
“Ardonn and I have a Trade,” Ramson replied. “As a former member of Kerlan’s inner circle of siphon researchers, he knows all that we do not about them…including how to destroy them.” He stuck a finger in the air. “And that’s how this artifact—thiscoreof alchemical power that we spoke of—comes into play. Ardonn is to help us find that artifact before Morganya does. My squad will remain on his guard. And…he is developing elixirs that can mend your health in the meantime.” He splayed his hands. “No resources taken from your end. You go ahead and plan your campaign, raise your army; nothing for you to do here.”
There was a glint of a challenge in his gaze, and the corners of his mouth curled in mirth. She knew that look—it was the face he had shown her back when they’d first met. That troublemaking old smirk.
Something shifted in her heart, but she stilled her expression as she turned to Tetsyev. “If he gives you any trouble, report to me,” she said, and then swept out of the room.
She was aware of someone following behind her, footsteps sounding against the wooden floorboards. Ana didn’t stop until she’d stepped outside. Out here, it was dark, empty. Between the silhouettes of trees, she could see the flickering torchlight of guards on patrol at the perimeters of their camp.
Ana turned around. “All right,” she said. “You’ve proven your point.”
From beneath the shadow of a large conifer, a figure stepped out. They were far enough from the dacha that the firelight spilling from the windows was but a dusting of gold against Ramson’s hair and cheekbones. “Not even a word of thanks?”
“Don’t push your luck, con man.” She hesitated, and her voice was soft when she spoke again. “Thank you, Ramson.”
He watched her with his hands tucked in his pockets; from here, she caught the glint of torchlight reflected in his eyes. “I’m not the one who chose to run this time, Ana,” he said quietly.
She had the desire to weep, to yell at him. That if things had turned out differently, she wouldneverhave run from what she wanted most selfishly for herself. That she had no choice. That she couldn’t stand the thought of his heart breaking two moons down the road, if this sliver of a chance didn’t work in their favor.
That every single part of her ached from wanting to be with him.
“I’m tired, Ramson.” Her breath unfurled in a cloud of vapor. “And I have enough to think about without wasting my energy on chances and possibilities.” She began to walk away.
He called after her. “I told you when we first met that I’m abusinessman, Ana. I never take a gamble that I don’t think I can win.”
His words rang in her head the entire way back. Her dacha was dark, deserted. It was hard to imagine that just this morning, she’d woken up in Ramson’s arms, feeling safe and whole, a peaceful kind of contentment she hadn’t known since her days with May.
Ana curled up on the bed, gathering her knees to her chest. It was blacker and colder in this part of Cyrilia, the wind seeping into her bones in a more insidious way that made her wonder if the stories were true. The Deities’ Lights danced overhead, closer than she’d ever seen them. Their colors changed erratically, almost angrily.
She stared up at the night sky, watching the lights shift and churn. The day’s events came back to her, and she focused her thoughts on the tasks she still had to accomplish.
Raise her army.
