Red Tigress

by Amélie Wen Zhao

  The brandy was sickly sweet with a tinge of spice, and it burned his mouth, his throat, his chest, every part of his body down to its core. Ramson clutched the cup, and he drank it all.

  Early evening in the Kingdom of Bregon was beautiful, Ana had to admit as she made her way to the courtyards. The terrain of the Blue Fort was peppered with verandas that were connected with steps that adjusted to the shifting elevation of the cliffs. The wind was warm, and from beyond the Blue Fort’s high walls came the constant crash of waves, faint but clear.

  The sky was a forget-me-not blue, the silver disc of the moon beginning to rise. Lamps were lit among the alder trees and hung on walls, lending pockets of yellow light. Here and there, figures strolled in the gentle lull of night, their murmured conversations carried by the breeze.

  Ana sat on the edge of a stone fountain. The Admiral had set them up as guests in the Ambassador’s Suites, several courtyards away from Godhallem, where they’d settled down and changed. Ana had chosen the least complicated outfit in her wardrobe: a slim white gown that glittered, spilling down the length of her legs like a sheath, and a matching pair of elbow-length gloves.

  The first thing she’d done upon her arrival was to pen a letter to Yuri, informing him of Shamaïra’s capture. Still, even as Ana had stood by the windows of the Bregonian courier room and watched the seadove fly into the distance, she couldn’t help but feel that this wasn’t enough. Shamaïra had saved her life. And she, Ana, was in a foreign kingdom an ocean away from returning the favor.

  Her hands fisted. She needed to secure an alliance with Bregon, fast; she needed to return home, to Cyrilia.

  A familiar voice cut through her thoughts. She looked up sharply. On a path between two rows of trees stood Sorsha Farrald, in conversation with someone else. The thick foliage and semidarkness hid Ana from view as she crept closer to see who it was.

  With a jolt, she realized that she recognized the other figure. Dressed in the same elegant white robes and carrying a set of scrolls, the young scholarly man from Godhallem spoke softly, his words punctuated by Sorsha’s rapid-fire speech.

  Who was he? Why had he been the only noncourtier—at least, she’d surmised—to appear at Godhallem earlier, and more important, why was he speaking to Sorsha?

  As Ana watched, her Affinity sensed two familiar signatures approaching behind her. Ana turned.

  Linn and Kaïs appeared from the doors of the Ambassador’s Suites, nearly unrecognizable in their new attire. Linn wore a dress of deep blue threaded with green that rippled like ocean waves when light struck it. They brought out the hues of dark blue in her hair and eyes, the colors playing off each other like ocean waters beneath a midnight sky. And Kaïs had donned a navy-blue shirt with black breeches.

  Ana pressed a finger to her lips and nodded to the alder trees. When she turned back, however, Sorsha was gone; only the young scholar remained, looking deep in thought.

  Linn crouched next to Ana. “Him,” she breathed.

  Kaïs frowned. “He was at Godhallem.”

  Ana nodded. “I just saw him talking to Sorsha Farrald.” It would be good to meet someone else in the Blue Fort, perhaps someone whose inclinations were less clear than the Farralds’. She had more questions, anyway, starting with the newest version of the Bregonian government’s personnel. Ramson had clearly left a few things out.

  Speaking of…“Where’s Ramson?” she whispered.

  “He did not answer his door,” Linn said.

  Ana glanced back to the young scholar, who had begun to walk away. No matter—she would find Ramson later.

  She motioned at Linn and Kaïs, and they hurried after the scholar.

  The young scholar led them to an open courtyard; Ana watched him enter a large domed building—the only one of its kind in the Blue Fort’s array of stern, square structures with crenellated walls. As they neared, Ana saw that this building’s doors were made of ironore, woven through with searock that seemed to undulate in the light of the moon.

  Ana lifted a hand to the bronze knockers—the Three Gods of Bregon curving around a single scroll—and pushed the doors open.

  The interior was cool, dimly lit with low-burning lamps. There were no windows here—the sun’s rays were damaging to books—and it took a few moments for Ana’s eyes to adjust.

  The first thing she saw were books. Thousands upon thousands of them, stacked on gilded shelves that lined the walls and the crescents of alcoves, giving the impression of endless waves of leather tomes. A single hallway cut through the center of the space, and overhead was a giant mural that stretched from this entrance to the very end of the library.

  “Oh,” Linn whispered. “Ramson told us about this. The Livren Skolaren.”

  Ramson had introduced the Livren Skolaren to them as the Great Scholars’ Library of Bregon, said to house the most complete records of the kingdom’s history. Its use was restricted to courtiers of the Blue Fort and recruits at the Naval Academy.

  Ana looked around. The center of the library was lined with oakwood desks. Scholars sat scattered throughout, their white robes dotting the otherwise dark décor. The air was filled with the quiet rustle of their pages, the scratches of pen, the occasional murmur.

  There were others here, too: regular officials of the Blue Fort in the standard royal-blue Bregonian uniforms, perusing volumes or taking notes from thick tomes. Several glanced Ana’s way, their gazes trailing her, but clearly the Admiral’s word had gotten out, for they were left alone.

  At the back of the library, studying the tomes on a shelf, was the scholar they had been following.

  Linn and Kaïs took their positions to stand guard by the entrance while Ana made straight for where the young scholar stood, his hand hovering over gilded spines. “Excuse me,” she said in Bregonian.

  He turned to face her. Surprise bloomed on his face, which quickly turned to recognition from behind his spectacles. “Can I help you, meindame?” His voice was soft, like the trickle of water.

  “I thought I saw you earlier, in Godhallem, and wondered if you might be able to help me,” Ana said.

  He looked at her a moment longer, then inclined his head. “Head Scholar Tarschon, meindame. I run the public and private records of the Livren Skolaren and oversee educational research.”

  The man was at most five, six years older than her. To have been made Head Scholar at such a young age—Ana was familiar enough with court politics that she knew someone had to have placed him in that position for a reason other than knowledge.

  That aside, it made him an extremely valuable resource. Ana put on a smile. “Well met, Scholar Tarschon,” she said. “I’m unfamiliar with navigating the Livren Skolaren, and was wondering whether you’d be kind enough to direct me.”

  “And what is it that you are searching for?”

  “I’m trying to learn about ancient artifacts of Bregon.”

  “All of our recorded artifacts are merely historical and have either been relocated to museums or been destroyed.” He watched her politely, as though waiting to be dismissed, but it was a signal: He wasn’t going to help her.

  Still, he wouldn’t outright reject her, either, which left a little room for her to try again. “Is there any artifact that fits the description of the object I spoke about earlier today?”

  His expression didn’t change. “I’m afraid I can’t help you, meindame.”

  A clear signal—he wasn’t going to yield much more. “Is there anyone else I can speak to about this matter?” Ana pressed. “The Queen Regent, perhaps—it seems she was not at Godhallem earlier.”

  Something shifted in Scholar Tarschon’s face; he looked guarded. “I cannot advise. Admiral Farrald would be your best contact.” He paused, and inclined his head again. “I must excuse myself, meindame—I do have other matters to get to.”

  Ana couldn’t think of h
ow else to persuade someone who was reluctant to help, to say the least. She watched him leave, feeling as though she’d just lost a good lead.

  She felt the smallest stir of winds, like a breath against her cheeks, as Linn appeared beside her.

  “Did you find anything?” Linn asked, gazing after Tarschon.

  Ana shook her head. “I felt like I was talking to a wall,” she muttered, but then a new idea struck. If she couldn’t coax anything out of Scholar Tarschon directly, perhaps she could gather information indirectly, instead. “Linn, can you follow that man?”

  A shadow of a smile curled her friend’s lips. “It would be sad not to test out how well my new clothes blend into the shadows.”

  Ana found herself grinning back. “I’m going to stay here and see what else I can find. I need more information on the Bregonian courtiers and officials of the Blue Fort.”

  Linn nodded. “I will report back tonight,” she replied, and turned and made for the doors where Tarschon had exited. She stopped to murmur a few words to Kaïs, who nodded and remained where he was. His eyes, though, trailed her with what Ana thought were glimmers of concern.

  Ana spent the rest of the evening in the Livren Skolaren poring over anything and everything she could find about Bregonian defense strategy and weapons. Her search for artifacts had led her to read lengthy chapters on searock and ironore, the two materials found only in the Corshan Gulf in the south of Bregon. The newer sections on those records included details on how the Bregonian government had discovered new properties that could strengthen their defenses and had begun excavating it en masse.

  As time passed and the night deepened, the patrons of the Livren Skolaren began to wrap up. Books were shut, lamps were doused, and the doors opened and closed incessantly as scholars trickled out. Ana had just started reading about the ability of searock to absorb the properties of other precious stones and metals when a shadow fell over her.

  “Oh,” Sorsha said, smirking. “What a change a bath and some new clothes can make.” She leaned against the other end of the table, color returned to her cheeks, looking for all the world like her own father hadn’t slashed his sword across her neck earlier in the day. She’d changed outfits into a standard Bregonian blue doublet and breeches, cinched by a gold-studded belt at her waist. Daggers glinted like ornaments at her hips, unsheathed. The tips of her boots sloped into metal sharper than knives’ points, designed to cut. She’d undone the top part of her previously tightly buttoned collar; resting at the base of her throat was the glittering black necklace that Ana had noticed earlier. The color matched her eyes.

  Below it was a pale white scar, the only indication of her father’s earlier assault on her.

  Sorsha traced Ana’s gaze and brought her fingers to her neck, stroking it lovingly. “The healers in Bregon work wonders,” she crooned. “Don’t look so shocked; this is far from the worst my father’s done to me.”

  Ana’s stomach turned. “What are you doing here?” she snapped. There was no one else around; the library had completely emptied out. Only Kaïs stood in the same spot he had since they’d arrived. He stood straighter now, his eyes glinting as they caught the lamplight.

  Sorsha’s lips curled. “Why, as Lieutenant of the Royal Guard, I thought I’d check in on you.”

  Ana reined in her anger. There was nothing to be achieved from antagonizing this girl, who saw no rhyme or reason. “You can report back to your father that I’m doing quite well,” she said curtly.

  “I see that.” Sorsha giggled. “You even have your own bodyguard now.” She gestured at Kaïs.

  Ana bristled. “He’s not my bodyguard.”

  “Oh?” Sorsha smiled coyly in Kaïs’s direction and crooked a finger at him. “Then am I free to persuade him to work for me? I could make a very convincing argument.”

  Ana stood, her chair scraping loudly in the silence. “Leave him alone,” she growled. “And the rest of my court, too.” A fierce defensiveness surged in her as she thought of Ramson, the look on his face when his father called for his arrest. “You try to touch any one of them and I’ll finish what we started back at the Crown’s Port.”

  Sorsha Farrald tipped her head back in a sharp laugh. It echoed down the hallway. “I see the way you look at me,” she said. “Like you’re afraid.” She lowered her voice, giggling. “You have no idea.”

  Faster than a blink, she danced past Ana’s side, her arm darting out. It was only when the coppery tang of blood snaked into the air that Ana realized Sorsha had sliced her cheek with a blade.

  “What—” Without thinking, Ana lashed out with her Affinity, slamming Sorsha against the searock floor. At the sudden movement, Kaïs drew his double swords, but Ana held up a hand.

  Sorsha was panting, her eyes wide in ecstasy, a fleck of Ana’s blood dotting her lip. Ana watched in disbelief as the girl’s tongue snaked out and she licked the blood away. “Mm,” Sorsha murmured. “Such a delicious magek.”

  “You’re sick,” Ana said.

  Sorsha gave a high-pitched laugh. “Oh, go on!” she shrieked. “Throw me against the floor, harder! What?” she added, pouting as Ana loosened her grasp on the girl. “Are you afraid?”

  Wordlessly, Ana dropped her Affinity from the girl and took a step back. Something about Sorsha unsettled her down to her core.

  Sorsha clambered to her feet. Her hair was disheveled; strands stuck to her face, but she seemed not to notice. “How disappointing,” she said, and for a moment, she sounded like an echo of her father, their tones dulcet and cold. “Such a powerful magek, wasted on a spineless little girl like you.”

  “Killing you wouldn’t do me any favors for my meeting with your father tomorrow,” Ana replied.

  Sorsha’s face darkened. The transformation was so stark that Ana felt as though she were looking at a completely different person. “Don’t,” Sorsha snarled, “assume you know anything about my father. He’d never give a second thought to killing me if it weren’t for the fact that he could use me.”

  “What do you mean, ‘use you’?”

  Sorsha cackled. “Nothing much.” She leered at Ana. “I’d like to think we’re not so different after all, you and I. Monsters make the most powerful weapon in the arsenal.”

  The words chilled Ana. She averted her gaze from the girl’s scars. “If you won’t leave, then I will.”

  She left Sorsha standing in the midst of the great library, a wild smile stretching from ear to ear.

  “Are you all right?” Kaïs’s voice was deep and low as they descended the steps to cross the courtyards back to the Ambassador’s wing. The trees on either side of their walkway danced as wind brushed through them. High above, stars shimmered in the heat haze.

  “Fine,” Ana replied. “If she bothers you, come to me. I told her to leave us alone.”

  “I will.”

  It had never occurred to her that she might defend this yaeger, or that she might even feel a rush of gratitude toward him. “Thank you for staying with me,” Ana added.

  He inclined his head. They spoke no more as they traversed the courtyards, yet this time, the silence between them had shifted to something less hostile, even companionlike. At the steps of the Ambassador’s Suites, Ana bid him good night. The weather was beautiful, the air warm, and she wanted to walk a bit more to clear her head and mull over the information she had learned today.

  Yet even as she strolled around the veranda behind the Ambassador’s wing, she couldn’t stop thinking of Sorsha’s bone-chilling laughter, the wildness to her eyes, the way she dismissed her father’s abuse without batting an eyelash.

  Monsters make the most powerful weapon in the arsenal.

  Darkness had fallen and moonlight cut bright through his open balcony doors when Ramson finally got back to his feet. He’d been stretched out on his silk divan, staring up at the ceiling, the overlapping carving
s of sea and sky and earth blurring and swirling into one with his thoughts.

  His head was still aching, but he’d managed to wade through the voices eddying in his mind to begin to string together a coherent set of actions.

  Which all started with getting off his chaise.

  The room swayed as he stumbled to the balcony. The sea glimmered as far as the eye could see. The Bregonians thought it symbolic that they could see all three major oceans from the Blue Fort. To the east, the foam-flecked waters of the Whitewaves that led to Cyrilia and the Southern Crowns. To the west, the swirling turquoise of the Jade Trail, their trade route to the Aseatic kingdoms. And to the north, the unknown Silent Sea that held glaciers as deep as the bottom of the ocean itself, waters colder than ice, it was rumored.

  Ramson leaned against the balustrade. Night had sucked the moisture and warmth from the air, and the breeze that greeted him was cool and refreshing. It cleared his head immediately, snatching the alcohol from his breath. Gods be damned, he’d forgotten how strong pure Bregonian brandy could be. The rest of the evening had been a blur—he could only recall the silhouette of his father’s back turning on him, the door shutting with a click.

  Gathering his thoughts felt like trying to hold broken glass: the fragments of information were sharp and refused to fit together. His father hadn’t been able to—hadn’t wanted to—give Ramson a clear answer on the Affinite trafficking in Bregon. He’d vehemently denied that Alaric Kerlan could be let back into this kingdom. And he’d easily given away a high-ranking position in the Navy to study Ana’s Affinity.

  Most important, though, he’d confirmed that the artifact with the ability to bestow multiple Affinities upon its bearer lay within the walls of the Blue Fort. That was the most important piece of information he had to get to Ana…before he left the Blue Fort.

  By whatever twisted sense of humor the gods had, he watched her stride into his sight at that very moment.