Red Tigress

by Amélie Wen Zhao

  Red Tigress. She’d almost forgotten that name. Yet as she stood, letting the words soak in, there was a flurry of movement on all sides of Godhallem as the Three Courts rose to their feet. And Ana could only watch in astonishment as King Darias Rennaron of Bregon turned to her and sank into a deep bow.

  They’d spoken about this meeting beforehand during her many visits to his chambers in the aftermath of the battle, but he hadn’t mentioned this part of his speech. An ocean breeze stirred through the open-air doorways of Godhallem.

  “We have not found Sorsha Farrald’s body,” King Darias continued. “We will continue looking. We need to ensure that Sorsha Farrald—if she is alive—does not reach Empress Morganya with our last siphon.”

  There was a somber hush in the room, every single pair of eyes focused on their king.

  “Therefore, I would like to declare an alliance with the Red Tigress of Cyrilia.” A grin curled the King’s lips as he turned his gaze to Ana. “I would like to pledge one thousand Bregonian troops to set sail with the Red Tigress to launch a counterattack against the current Cyrilian regime.”

  Ana matched his smile and gave a single nod. King Darias had discussed this with her privately in the days past, but it had to be formally voted upon by the Three Courts.

  Now, the King’s clear gray eyes swept across the hall. “All those in favor, stand and say aye.”

  At first, there was only silence.

  And then, somewhere in the area of the Sky Court, a courtier stood. “Aye.”

  “Aye!” another shouted from the Earth Court.

  “Aye.” A captain of the Navy spoke from directly behind Ana.

  Ana stood very still, holding her breath, as all around her, courtiers from the Three Courts of Bregon made their stand, cries of “aye” filling the air. Outside, the wind and the waves seemed to roar in triumph, and above, the bells of Godhallem hummed, as though the gods themselves murmured in agreement.

  “Anastacya?”

  She blinked and turned her attention back to King Darias. He was smiling widely at her. “The Three Courts of Godhallem have unanimously voted in favor of an alliance,” he said, and as she turned to look all around, Ana saw that all the courtiers of the Three Courts were standing, facing her. She thought of the first day she had arrived here, of the sneers and jibes these men had given her as she stood beneath them in her ragged clothes.

  Now, their expressions held only respect.

  Perhaps, Ana thought, change was not so impossible after all.

  King Darias spread his arms. “Well, Red Tigress of Cyrilia?” he asked. “Do you accept?”

  Courage filled her, a surge of hope. She had lost her Affinity, but here…here was proof that she did not need it to lead. That her Affinity was not what made her capable, that it did not define her after all.

  She was the Red Tigress of Cyrilia, and that would be enough.

  Ana drew a deep breath, threw her shoulders back, lifted her chin, and stepped forward. “King Darias and the Three Courts of Bregon,” she said, her voice ringing loud and clear in the halls of Godhallem, “I accept.”

  The sun had risen higher in the sky by the time she left Godhallem. The Blue Fort was now bustling with activity, the courtyards surrounding Godhallem crowded as messengers, courtiers, and soldiers of the Blue Fort hurried to and fro. There was a Succession Ceremony to take place at noon as King Darias sought to refill the seats in his government left vacant by Kerlan’s massacres during the Battle of Godhallem.

  Ana walked away from the direction of the crowds. She followed a familiar path that wound through the alder trees. People around her grew sparser until at last, she turned the corner of a building. Ana parted the curtain of vines and ascended the steps.

  The old guard tower was haloed in sunlight, its outcrop of rock carving a private, intimate space over the ocean below. Outlined against the sky was the young man she sought.

  Light glistened on his sandy-brown hair and lit up the gold emblazoned on his navy-blue tunic. He tapped an impatient rhythm with his knee-high boots. A sword hung at his hips, its hilt the proud, roaring sigil of a seadragon.

  He turned at her approaching footsteps, and his expression softened. The bruises on his face had been carefully covered in powders, but she saw the stiff way he carried himself, the bandages on his hands and arms.

  She’d barely seen him in the past two days, which he’d spent under extensive supervision in the medical ward of the Blue Fort, surrounded by healers. Her heart opened as she drank in the sight of him now, and she couldn’t help but think of the way he had kissed her that night in the storm, of how gently he’d held her back at Godhallem.

  “You look better,” Ramson said. His expression was smooth, closed, his gaze cool and clinical as he surveyed her. Ana’s steps faltered, the flickers of warmth within her turning cold. Why did it feel as though a strange new distance had opened up between them?

  “Thank you,” Ana said. They hadn’t spoken about her Affinity; she’d found it easier if he didn’t bring it up. It felt like a wound, and each mention or thought only served to reopen it. “I just met with the King and the Three Courts.” This, she had told him about, in the brief moments they’d exchanged words.

  A shadow crossed his eyes. He turned his gaze to the ocean. “How did it go?”

  “The alliance is approved. We leave this afternoon.”

  Ramson continued to stare out at the sea, as though he hadn’t heard her. The waves crashed onto the shores far below the cliffs.

  Finally, he spoke. “I’m not going with you.” The words were so quiet, they might have blended with the wind.

  The world seemed to slow around her then. She could swear she felt a piece of her heart cracking. “What?”

  Ramson turned to look at her at last, and she knew him well enough to understand the shuttered expression that he had carefully constructed. He’d been hiding something from her, and she’d been too caught up in her own affairs to catch it.

  “King Darias offered to reinstate me in his Navy as a commander,” Ramson said tonelessly. “I turned down the offer.”

  She stared at him, her lips parted, her breathing becoming unsteady.

  “So,” Ramson continued, “he offered me an unofficial appointment, as captain of a special fleet of the Navy, tasked to hunt down the remainders of Alaric Kerlan’s allies in Bregon.”

  The space and the silence stretched an ocean between them now, filled with the churning of waves in a storm-tossed sea.

  For your path, Little Tigress, I see an ocean. And, as Ana took in the sight of him, outlined against a vast blue of sky, she began to have an inkling that Shamaïra’s words held one more facet of meaning to them than she’d known.

  “And you accepted.” The words fell cold from her mouth.

  He inclined his head in confirmation. “I am to attend the Succession Ceremony today as an unofficial guest.”

  Seeing him now, watching her with a gaze that made her feel as though they were the only two people left in this universe, Ana couldn’t stop the thoughts she’d been keeping out.

  She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to be with him. She wanted…she wanted him.

  “You never asked me.” Her voice was tight, if only so that she could steady the maelstrom of her thoughts.

  “I never thought I had to,” he replied, and she had the impression she was speaking to a stranger. She’d expected a quip, a teasing glimmer in those hazel eyes, a wicked curve of his mouth.

  But the man standing before her was no longer the Ramson Quicktongue she’d met in that prison in Cyrilia, with his quick grin and cunning words and beguiling smile. Sometime, in the course of their journey, he had become Ramson Farrald, con man and commander of a Navy fleet.

  She tore her gaze from his. Her chest felt tight, the wounds on her heart still raw from the loss of her
Affinity. This, though, was an ache she had never experienced before: the sensation that her heart was being torn completely in two.

  He had made his choice.

  And she had made hers.

  Deny it, she thought. Say you’ll stay with me.

  But even as she leaned against the sun-warmed rock, the susurrus of waves and the cries of seagulls tiding over them, she knew what was meant to happen.

  A day will arrive when you will be asked to sacrifice that which you hold dearest for the good of your empire.

  Had Shamaïra seen this moment? Had she been trying to warn Ana, back then?

  Had she known how it would feel to have her mind wanting one thing and her heart another?

  “So this is the end,” Ana said quietly. The sentence hung in the air, half question, half statement, lingering. Waiting for his response.

  He had been watching her with a small crease to his brows. And then the tension seemed to leave his body and he exhaled. “Ana.” Her name sounded like a supplication coming from his lips. “I…” He shut his eyes briefly, and she thought of that day in the storm, when they had held each other at the cliff’s edge and he had kissed her.

  It had felt like the start of something back then. Not the end.

  “Will I see you again?” The words slipped from her lips before she could help herself.

  Ramson was quiet for a long moment, watching her carefully, and she wondered whether he would respond with a cruel truth or a kind lie.

  At last, he spoke. “I don’t make promises.”

  She heard the second part to his sentence, almost as clearly as he’d spoken it to her that day on the ship, when the moon had shrouded them in silver and the sea had glittered azure. So I don’t have to break them.

  “Well, then.” The distance between them stretched, a gaping abyss, an uncrossable ocean. Her voice threatened to break, but Ana forced the words out. “I have another appointment. I suppose this is good-bye.”

  He said nothing, only watched as she turned and walked away, each step taking an eternity, widening the chasm between them until she turned a corner and he disappeared between the rock and the sky and the sea.

  Ana crossed to the guest quarters of the Blue Fort. The searock walls seemed somehow muted, the danger and mystery of their edges shaved off with the changes of the past few days. She remembered coming here less than a week ago, and the place had seemed like an impenetrable fortress to her.

  Now, it still was, only it had taken Ramson with it, too.

  Kaïs waited outside the chambers as she reached them; he hadn’t left for the past two days. His eyes flickered as he watched her approach.

  “Are you all right?” His voice was deep, somber.

  Ana had grown to dread that question. She wondered whether he was reaching for her Affinity with his, and whether he found only emptiness where it had once been. “I’m fine,” she replied. It was simply another pain she would grow numb to. Her gaze flicked down Kaïs’s face, and she thought of the promise she had made Shamaïra. It seemed like a lifetime ago. “Your mother would be proud of you,” Ana said quietly.

  He bowed his head. “I cannot return to Cyrilia. If Morganya’s troops catch me alive when all of Kerlan’s troops are dead, they will know of my betrayal. They will hurt my mother. And so I have a favor to ask of you, Kolst Imperatorya.”

  “Call me Ana,” she replied. “You needn’t ask anything of me. Do you really think me so heartless as to leave your mother behind, when she saved my life? I promised to help Shamaïra find her son, and now that I have, I promise I will not rest until she is safe and out of harm’s way.” Tentatively, she reached out a hand and rested it on his shoulder. He grew very still, but did not flinch away. “I will find her, Kaïs.”

  He lifted his eyes, and for a moment, they looked at each other. Something had shifted between them, like ice beginning to thaw. He had made mistakes in his past—as had she—yet now, their choices had led them to different paths. Ones that had begun to converge.

  Ana looked past him, to the open doors of the chamber beyond. “Is she inside?”

  He nodded.

  She felt the change as soon as she entered the chambers: winds, sweet and balmy with a tint of salt, stirring at her hair and tickling her exposed skin. The chamber was drenched in sunlight, the balcony doors thrown wide open, the white gossamer curtains fluttering gently. Outside, far below, the ocean whispered.

  A figure was propped up on chairs on the balcony outside. Ana’s heart clenched at the sight of her friend’s slender silhouette. She stepped outside. “Linn.”

  Linn glanced up from her chair. Her face was paler than Ana remembered; dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her cheeks jutted out more sharply. Ana put her hands around her friend’s shoulders. Had they always been this bony?

  “Hello,” Linn said quietly. Ana tried not to look at Linn’s right arm, wrapped in bandages and bound to her chest. Her eyes flicked to Linn’s stomach, and against her will, she recalled the storm that night, the wild look on Kaïs’s face as he’d stumbled back, Linn clutched to his chest like a small, broken bird. Her vest and undershirts had been soaked through with crimson, yet Ana had only been able to watch as healers rushed to her friend’s side, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood.

  The bones in Linn’s arms had been utterly shattered, with some muscles severed completely. The healers at the medical ward had done the best work they could on Linn, and said that she would no longer feel the pain. But that was all they had promised.

  They had disposed of Kerlan’s body, Ramson supervising as it was carted off to a remote site to be buried where no one would find it, and where it would not soil the burial sites of those around him.

  Ana only wished she had found a way to make him suffer. To make him pay.

  To Linn, she said, “You look good. The healers will take care of you. You’ll return even stronger.”

  Linn turned her face to Ana. “My arm may heal,” she said, “but your Affinity…” She choked and squeezed her eyes shut. “I should have stayed with you.”

  “No,” Ana said. “You helped us win the battle, Linn.”

  Linn’s dark eyes glistened. “King Darias came to see me. He said they are finding out everything they can about the siphons. We will get through this, Ana. Together.”

  “Together,” Ana whispered, and leaned against her friend, their arms interlinked, their heads resting together. They stayed like that for a long time, holding tightly to each other.

  After a while, Linn spoke. “I will never stop fighting,” she said. “I have been searching for my path all this time, but I know it now, Ana. I felt it when I freed those Affinites from the research dungeons.” She looked up, her eyes fierce. “I am going to make sure not a single Affinite in this world goes through what I went through.”

  Ana’s throat closed. Linn’s words held the echoes of another brave young girl; perhaps, Ana thought, the bravest child she’d known. The one who’d had enough hope to spark a revolution.

  May had wanted to bring hope to every Affinite. And Ana would never stop fighting until that was true.

  She squeezed Linn’s hand. “And where will you go?” she asked. Linn had declined to return with her to Cyrilia, but she hadn’t mentioned what her plans would be.

  Her response surprised Ana. “I will go back,” Linn said. “To Kemeira. If Morganya sent her forces to Bregon, then there is nothing stopping her from crossing the Jade Trail to the Aseatic Isles. I must prepare my empire.” She paused, and her face hardened. “The issues of Affinite trafficking have long run deep in the fabric of my empire, and the rest of the Aseatic Kingdoms. It is, in part, the inaction of our governments that has brought suffering to my people. It is time we fought back.”

  A sudden idea struck Ana, so logical that she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it earlier. “Linn,
will you be Cyrilia’s ambassador?”

  Linn blinked, curiosity opening her features.

  “Our empires have long existed in a state of war,” Ana pressed. “But I think together, we can reconcile our nations, our peoples.”

  Linn’s face lit up, and it felt like watching the sun rise. “Ana, I would be honored to serve as ambassador between our empires.”

  Ana threw her arms around her friend again. For the first time in days, a laugh bubbled from Linn’s lips, sprinkling the air like spray from a summer sea. “The honor is mine,” Ana said. “Thank you.”

  “I will return to Kemeira,” Linn said. “I will warn my leadership—and all of the Aseatic Kingdoms—of the turmoil in Cyrilia. And…I will try to bargain for an alliance between our empires and gather support for the great war to come.”

  Together, they turned to admire the sea. The world seemed to unfurl beneath their gazes, the enormity of their task held at bay with the whispering waters, rising and receding into eternity. Ana allowed herself to enjoy this moment, basked in the warmth of the sun and wrapped in the coolness of the breeze, arm around her friend.

  And then, beneath the brilliant blue skies of Bregon, the bells of Godhallem began to toll for the Succession Ceremony.

  It was a beautiful day to set sail. The waterways to the Blue Fort were lined with ships, and as Ana descended the steps of Godhallem, she noticed that the Bregonian warship awaiting her below had been reoutfitted. It flew a different flag: a roaring Cyrilian tiger, but instead of its usual silver-white, it was painted red.

  Bregonian Royal Guards and members of the Navy lined the steps; they held up their hands in salute as Ana passed by. When she reached the gangplank, a familiar figure was waiting for her.

  Daya gave her a full-on grin and clicked her heels together in a salute. She’d changed into a brand-new outfit, complete with polished brass buttons and high leather boots, fitting for her new role as captain of Ana’s fleet. On the back of her dark gray coat was the symbol of a woman with hair like flames. King Darias had specially commissioned the coat for her, out of respect for the goddess Amara of Kusutri.