Ana wiped her tears, reeling back the dark well of her grief. “What’s the use of holding on to these things if the people who owned them are gone?”
Linn laid the purse by Ana’s mess of blankets. “Do you know what I have learned?”
“What?”
“Only loss can teach us the true worth of things.” Linn’s clothes rustled as she knelt before Ana and grasped her hands. “There is nothing we can do but go on, one day at a time. We live in their memory, taking the breaths they cannot draw again, catching the warmth of the sunlight that they were meant to feel.”
The knot in Ana’s chest loosened a little; she brushed the back of her hand against her cheek, wiping away her tears.
Linn held out her hands. “Come. There is something I want to show you.”
Linn opened the cabin door and disappeared. Ana followed, and when she reached the open doorway, the cold and the sight before her stole her breath.
Outside, the sky was aglow with currents of hazy blue lights that shifted and ebbed like gentle waves, their soft glow reflected on the dark tree lines of the Syvern Taiga. A smattering of stars glittered like silver dust caught in between. And, from time to time, a wave would break away and dip down, down, down, until it disappeared beyond the trees of the Syvern Taiga.
“The Deities’ Lights,” Ana whispered. She had read of these in her studies, had craned her neck at her bedroom window for a glimpse, but the walls of the Salskoff Palace had always stood too tall. “They’re…beautiful.”
Linn grasped her hand and pointed. “Look.”
A cold wind brushed past them, and the entire forest seemed to whisper in response. At the edge of the trees, snow swirled from the ground as though stirred by phantom fingers. Ana watched as one of the drifts of snow swept into the air, twirling faster and faster until it took the shape of a deer. Beneath the blue glow of the Deities’ Lights, the silver conjuration looked ghostly as it took a graceful step forward.
“Ice spirits,” Linn whispered, hushed excitement in her tone.
Another gust of wind scattered snow that took the shape of a running fox, and then there was a bounding rabbit, and a soaring eagle plunged into a weaving sky that looked alive.
Half-fascinated, half-afraid, Ana took a step back. “Linn, these spirits can be dangerous.”
Linn shook her head. “Only some. When I was with the brokers, they often made us sleep outside as punishment. The ice spirits kept me company.” She turned to Ana, and the lights and snow reflected silver in her dark eyes. “I wanted to show you because I think there is good and bad in everything, Ana. And it is the good of this world that makes it worth saving.”
Ana closed her eyes. The silence, the lights, and the snow made everything seem dreamlike, and she wanted for this night to never end. “When Ramson freed you, you could have taken your freedom without choosing the Trade. Why didn’t you?”
Linn placed her hands together and clasped her fingers to form an oval. “Action, and counteraction,” she said patiently. “My people believe that every action has a counteraction. Yin and yang; moon and sun; night and day. Ramson saved me, therefore I saved you.” She said this simply, confidently, as though it were as easy as differentiating between black and white.
Ana wrapped her arms around herself. In the absolute quiet, it felt like they were the only two beings alive, and the confession unfurled with a plume of her breath in the frosty air. “I’m afraid, Linn.”
“That’s good.” Linn gazed into the distance, where the ice spirits frolicked in their ever-shifting forms beneath the blue light of the Deities. “My mother told me that is when we can choose to be brave.”
“It doesn’t make it any easier.”
Linn cast her eyes down and smiled. “Want to know a secret?”
Ana found herself smiling back. “Sure.”
“I am afraid, too.” The words were a whisper in the wind. “But…there is something I want, a feeling stronger than my fear.”
“What is it?”
“Freedom.” Overhead, the shadow of a hawk soared beneath the shifting blue lights in the sky. Its screech pierced the night. “My traffickers stole my freedom and my voice. They led me to believe that there was nothing I could do. That there was no hope.” Linn’s eyes were closed. She drew a breath and turned her face to the shimmering lights outside. “I have waited so long to make a choice of my own. For every Affinite freed, like me, there are thousands of others still trapped in this system, invisible in the shadows. I choose to fight for them, for me. Which do you choose?”
Ana’s voice was hoarse when she said, “I choose to fight.”
Linn’s eyes flew open, and Ana could swear someone had cast in them all the stars in the night sky. “Good. Now, I have something to show you.”
Back in the dacha, Linn handed Ana a rolled-up piece of parchment. “I found this at the marketplace.”
Ana unfurled the poster, and the world around her seemed to crumble to ashes.
It was a portrait of Luka. He looked older than she had last seen him a year ago—or perhaps it was the way the artist depicted him. His jaw had strengthened and his shoulders had broadened, yet one thing that hadn’t changed was the radiant smile that lit his face. The artist had painted him with a fur-rimmed silver cloak, a tiger’s clasp at his throat, and the white-gold Crown of Cyrilia sitting perfectly on his head.
Gently, she ran a hand over his face, tracing the bump of his chin and the spot where his dimple should be. The artist hadn’t captured that. She let her gaze linger on him a few moments more before dropping to the line of gold text emblazoned beneath.
Kolst Imperator Lukas Aleksander Mikhailov
to announce the abdication of his throne and the crowning of
Kolst Contessya Morganya Mikhailov
on the fifth day of the first moon of Winter.
Ceremony to take place at the Salskoff Palace Grand Throneroom.
Ana’s teeth clenched. At least Tetsyev hadn’t been lying to her about that part. Four days—they would arrive on the cusp of Coronation evening.
She would get there, or she would die trying.
Hold on, Luka, she thought. I’m coming.
“He’s beautiful,” Linn breathed, her gaze on the snow-dampened portrait of Luka. “I had always pictured Emperor Mikhailov to be…well…monstrous.”
The words stirred a spark of anger within Ana. “Why?”
“Growing up in Kemeira, we were taught of the cruelty of the Cyrilian Empire, of the way Affinites are treated here.” There was no hostility on the girl’s face. She peered down at the portrait, brows creased, as though she were genuinely reflecting. “And after I came here, I learned how your people view us: as ruthless, cold-blooded warriors. I suppose we are all heroes in our own eyes, and monsters in the eyes of those who are different.”
Ana thought of the Vyntr’makt in Kyrov, of how the yaeger had looked at her, like she was the monster. “It is not often brought up in Cyrilian textbooks or classes, but I know the other nations view Affinites differently,” she said instead.
“Yes,” Linn said. “In Kemeira, we are the Temple Masters. We serve with whatever Affinity the gods granted us. I trained with the Wind Masters to hone my Affinity, to protect my kingdom.”
A chill crept through Ana. “You were trained by the Wind Masters?” The Kemeiran Wind Masters were only spoken of in hushed whispers throughout the Empire. They were the deadliest assassins in the lands, rumored to have mastered the secrets to flight. They were men and women of wind and shadows, unseen and unheard. It was said that the only time one saw a Wind Master was before he or she slit one’s throat.
“I was trained to serve Kemeira; I was trained for a grander destiny. I thought I would find that.” Anguish flitted across her face. “I boarded a Cyrilian ship in hopes that I would find my brother and ret
urn home. But when I landed, they took my belongings and my identification papers. They told me I would be arrested unless I signed an employment contract. I didn’t know that I would lose my freedom that day.” Linn hung her head. “The Wind Masters trained me for a grand fate, a great destiny. I do not know what that is yet, but I think…I think you might be a part of it.” Linn drew a breath and lifted her eyes, courage seeming to settle on her shoulders. “My people believe in fate. So I will follow your path, Ana…in search of my destiny.”
Ana reached out and squeezed Linn’s hands. “You will carve your own path,” she said. “And you will build your own destiny.”
Linn’s lips curled; a smile broke across her face, lovely and full of hope.
* * *
—
For the next three days, they traveled from dawn to dusk, bundled in furs and cloaks, their thick-hoofed horses keeping up a steady pace. Snow continued to fall from gray skies, and the world was a whirl of white. They made sure to arrive at villages or towns prior to nightfall, and crept out of snowed-up inns when the last of the Deities’ Lights were still fading from the sky, and the ghostly glimmers of ice spirits disappeared with the first cracks of the day.
At night, they ran through their plans. They would arrive just in time for the Coronation—so they would need to unveil Morganya’s conspiracy before Luka abdicated.
The Coronation would be the only time the Palace had a large enough number of people going in and out that they could enter without detection. Ana knew how these events worked; there would be a line of guest carriages for miles out. Guards would be posted at the Kateryanna Bridge, checking guests and tickets.
Their only chance was to intercept a carriage and swap places with the guests inside.
Ana would reveal herself once she was inside the palace and reunited with Luka. She would tell her brother and the Court everything, while Linn went to the apothecary’s wing to find the poison and the antidote, which would be evidence of her claims.
On the fourth and final day of their travels, there was a stillness in the air. The snow had stopped. The sun dusted the world in gold, and their horses’ steps were quiet in the soft layers of snow.
When Ana steered her horse between two tall pines, she found herself at a cliff’s edge. She gave a sharp tug on the reins, and when she looked up, a hundred emotions filled her.
The sun was rising over white-tipped mountains, transforming the snow-covered earth into a glittering canvas of corals and reds and pinks. Wisps of clouds streaked the waking sky, stained with the fiery orange rays of the sun. Tundra rolled out in every direction as far as the eye could see, interspersed with white pines and jagged mountains. And so far in the distance that it almost—almost—blended into the landscape were the shimmering white steeples and red-tiled roofs of Salskoff.
Home.
Winds—fresh and cold and scented like winter—caressed her cheeks, stroking her shoulders and the nape of her neck. Her hood tumbled from her head and her hair danced in the breeze.
Home. As she stared at the Palace in the distance—her Palace—a sense of doubt shadowed the longing that grasped her heart. There had been simpler times, when the halls rang with her and Luka’s laughter, when she would huddle by the door of her chambers at night and whisper to Yuri over a mug of hot chokolad. When Mama and mamika Morganya had sat together by her bed, stroking her hair until their murmurs faded into dreams.
But it was impossible to think of the Palace without thinking of the cracks that had spread over the years. Papa, turning away from her. Sadov, smiling at her pain. All this, built on the fabric of corruption that had allowed for the nobility to profit from the pain of Affinites.
Home would never again carry the same meaning for her, Ana realized. And as she straightened in her saddle, Shamaïra’s words whispered to her in the winter wind. No, Little Tigress—we take what we are given and we fight like hell to make it better.
Ana opened her eyes. She was the heiress of the Mikhailov line, the Little Tigress of Salskoff, and she was coming home.
In ten years, nothing and everything about her city had changed.
Walking through the moonlit and snow-dusted streets, hidden under her thick hood, Ana almost felt as though she were in a strange dream. The memories she had of Salskoff were all from her childhood, before she had been confined to the Palace. The dachas that she’d so fondly nicknamed “gingerbread houses” as a child were still there, smoke piping cheerfully from chimneys; the marketplaces that she and Luka had frequented (under Kapitan Markov’s sharp-eyed stare) sat festooned in decorative silver sashes; tall arches with marble statues of the Deities and the Cyrilian white tiger stood proud and regal over town squares and main streets.
At this time of year, the town was alight with festivities. Silver banners of the Cyrilian white tiger hung from every door, paper snowflakes fluttered between lampposts, and candles flickered softly on each doorstep as Salskoff welcomed their patron Deity of Winter. Most of the town had likely congregated at local pubs by the Tiger’s Tail river where they could see the Palace, awaiting news of the abdication and Coronation.
Ana and Linn had changed into modest, fur-lined woolen gowns to blend in at the Coronation, Ana’s a dark shade of green and Linn’s navy blue. Under the moonlight, the Kemeiran carved a slender figure, but Ana knew beneath the furs and layers of her skirts were daggers, strapped to her ankles, arms, and waist.
They selected an empty side street that led straight to the main riverside promenade. Even from afar, Ana could tell the promenade was clogged with traffic. The lights of lampposts lanced off gilded carriages and caught on the snow-white coats of valkryfs every so often.
Ana and Linn needed somewhere quiet and dark, away from prying eyes.
Ana was glad for the cloak of night as she and Linn huddled against a corner, beneath the awning of a closed store. With a flick of her wrists, Linn summoned winds that extinguished the nearby lamps, plunging the area into darkness.
They waited. Minutes passed. And then, from far off, drawing closer, was the unmistakable sound of hoofbeats and carriage wheels.
Before Ana could even blink, Linn was gone, stealing toward the carriage like a shadow. She flitted to the back and, with acrobatic precision, slipped through the door.
Silence. Ana’s heart pounded out the moments. Her palms sweated. The carriage trundled on, the driver oblivious to what was happening inside.
And then the door swung open soundlessly. Linn’s head popped out. She held up a hand and cut a sharp signal through the night with a finger. One.
There was only one passenger inside the carriage. They needed a second invitation.
Ana motioned at Linn. You go. I’ll find another.
She could make out, in the near-total darkness, the way Linn’s silhouette tensed with consternation. Ana shook her head again and waved her hand. Go.
A slight pause, and then Linn vanished inside. The door shut without so much as a tap.
The whole affair had taken less than a minute.
Ana melted back into the shadows, watching the carriage bearing Linn roll toward the riverside promenade that led to the Palace.
It wasn’t long before another carriage appeared.
Following Linn’s strategy, she ducked behind the carriage as it rolled past and hopped onto the back. Linn had made it look effortless, but a jolt of the carriage nearly sent Ana flying, and her hands scrabbled for purchase.
Holding steady, Ana caught a breath and stretched her Affinity, searching the inside of the carriage. One body, blood warm and pulsing.
Ana opened the carriage door and swung herself inside. She had wrapped her Affinity around the woman’s neck even before she closed the door behind her. The unfortunate noblewoman twisted in her seat, choking, her face rapidly turning red.
Ana covered the woman’s mouth with her hand to stop h
er from making noise. She pulled at the woman’s blood until her eyes rolled back into her head and she slumped against her seat. The carriage continued forward; from the outside, it would look as though nothing were amiss.
Laying the noblewoman on the carriage floor, Ana searched through the silky folds of her gown until she found what she was looking for: the invitation letter, folded in a gold-foiled envelope and scented like roses.
Though she knew the woman wasn’t dead, Ana still felt a bit guilty, looking at the unconscious figure at her feet. She parted the velvet drapes and gazed out the window.
Her heart flipped. They had turned onto the riverside promenade, and across the river, the Salskoff Palace drew into sight.
Her home was still the most beautiful thing she had ever laid eyes on. The Palace walls rose impossibly high before them, the cream-white color of bricks glittering with snow and ice. Beyond the crenellated walls, the cupolas and spires of the Salskoff Palace punctured the sky, the moonlight rendering them ghostly. Specks of light flickered among the haze of gray and white, breathing life into the palace of snow and stone.
She was home.
The Kateryanna Bridge was decked with banners and silver decoration. Torches blazed on either side as statues of the Deities looked down upon them, faces aglow. Ana sent a silent vow to her parents, tracing a Deys’krug on her chest. Tonight her mother gave her courage; her father gave her the strength to correct the wrongs he hadn’t.
At the end of the bridge, just outside the great gilded gates to the Palace grounds, stood a line of blue-cloaked Palace guards. Ana’s stomach twisted and she shrank back slightly. But as her eyes roamed farther down the line of carriages, she saw something that nearly made her heart stop.
To the side of the bridge barely a dozen paces away, watching the procession of carriages like hawks, were Sadov and the yaeger from the Kyrov Vyntr’makt.
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