“Oh, somealliesthey are, going around blowing up our camp,” he bit back. “Did you see that shadow Affinite’s face? He was about to kill—”
“Ramson.” Her anger sparked white-hot in her. “Stand down. This is anorder.”
His eyes narrowed a fraction. “Since when were you under the impression that I took orders from you, Ana?”
She swallowed her anger. When she replied, her tone was even. “You’re right, I’m sorry. You are my ally, Ramson; I overstepped.”
Without another word, she swept past him. She needed some peace and quiet…. She’d intended to visit someone she’d come to think of as a mother.
She was relieved to find Shamaïra’s dacha untouched, guarded by four soldiers who stepped back to let her in. The interior smelled of medicinal balms; a fire burned in the hearth, lending the room warmth.
She’d visited several times each day; sometimes, she’d entered to see healers tending to Shamaïra, dribbling kashya down her throat, applying salves and medicines to her in hopes that she would wake.
She hadn’t.
Ana knelt by her friend’s pallet, the tension inside her uncoiling into something tender as she looked into the Unseer’s lined face. Within nearly two moons, Shamaïra seemed to have aged ten years. Her skin was waxen, a stitching of cuts and bruises overlaid atop one another, some fresh and some fading. The sight brought a deep ache to Ana’s chest.
She took Shamaïra’s hand and laid her head next to it.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”
The Unseer lay unresponsive, her chest rising and falling with quiet breaths. The silence was almost too much for Ana to bear. Shamaïra had been a woman with a crackling spirit and a sharp tongue and a presence larger than life.
“Your son, Shamaïra,” Ana tried again. “Kaïs. He is alive. He is well. He is coming home to you.”
No response.
A clean towel and tub of water rested at the foot of the bed. Ana wet the towel and, tenderly, dabbed at Shamaïra’s sweat-slicked face, smoothing out the wrinkles in the Unseer’s forehead.
“You told me once,” Ana said softly, “that there would come a day when I would have to sacrifice that which I hold dearest for the good of my empire. I did not truly understand the meaning behind your words until now.
“And I am ready to make the sacrifice.”
She might have sat like this forever, with nothing but the crackling of flames in the hearth and the gentle breathing of her friend filling the air around them. But there was so much left todo.
She rinsed the towel off and rested it at the edge of the tub, then stood. She pressed a kiss to her friend’s forehead, brushing back a few stray hairs, taking in the faint scent of rosewater that clung to Shamaïra’s skin. “We miss you,” Ana murmured. “But you’ve done more than enough for this revolution. You can rest, now.”
Shamaïra continued to slumber as Ana left. She made for the center of her camp, where a group of people had gathered: Bregonian Navy captains and Redcloaks alike. She sensed their gazes on her as she strode over, cloak whipping behind her. In the distance, columns of black smoke drifted from several different locations around her camp.
Daya straightened at her approach. “No casualties,” she said. “We’ve assessed the damages. It shouldn’t take too long to repair.”
“Don’t bother,” Ana said, waving a hand. “Have them put out the smoke—it’s giving away our location. After that, call a meeting. I want all the commanders and captains involved.”
Daya tapped her forehead in a salute. “What will the meeting cover?”
Ana looked to her army, to the few Redcloaks clustered to the side. To Ramson’s squad, with their blackstone-infused armor.
It was time.
“We march at dusk,” Ana replied. “Tonight, I begin my campaign as the Red Tigress. I declare war on Morganya’s regime and all who support her.”
—
The rest of that day, Ana wrote. Letters upon letters upon letters, signed and sealed with an image of a roaring red tiger. She watched the wax dry, dripping down the scrolls like blood. The letters were distributed among riders—emissary units dispatched to towns in Southern Cyrilia, where Ana and the main body of her troops would not have time to reach.
She would take her forces farther north, to cities where Morganya’s Imperial Inquisition had passed through and ravaged. To towns Morganya thought had been subdued.
And she would ask them to fight with her, for a different future.
