Kemeiran, Ana realized with surprise. A second realization hit her, harder than the first. She’d seen this girl, many nights ago, beneath the sultry glow of torches and the low rumble of battle drums. “The Windwraith,” she breathed.
The girl straightened. Before she could speak, a groan sounded from the other end of the carriage. Sadov stirred.
The barest movement, and blades glinted in the Windwraith’s palms. Yet as Sadov’s eyes focused on them, Ana knew with sickening premonition what would come.
The wall of fear that hit her was crippling: dark and utter terror that gripped her stomach and paralyzed her. She crumpled to the ground, images flickering through her mind. Ramson lying in a pool of blood in the banquet hall. Papa’s body convulsing, blood spurting from his mouth. Eight bodies, strewn across the cobblestones, twitching as life faded from their eyes.
Dimly, she heard a thump as the Windwraith hit the floor. The barest whimper escaped the girl’s throat, her face shadowed with whatever nightmares haunted her.
Sadov inched toward them, clutching his side from the blow the Windwraith had dealt him. He raised a hand, and moonlight lanced off the blade he held.
He was going to kill the girl.
Ana threw herself in front of the Windwraith. Sadov paused, hesitation flashing in his eyes. “Get out of the way,” he snarled, “or I’ll kill you both.”
The slightest of movements behind her, and suddenly, wind blasted across the carriage, throwing Sadov to the floor. Ana reached out for something to hold on to, but the Windwraith’s arms were already wrapped tightly around her center.
They held each other as the squall around them rose to a scream, slamming Sadov against the carriage door. Another blast and the door flew open, and Sadov tumbled out of sight.
The wind died; the world quieted.
Ana untangled herself from the Windwraith, her heart still racing. She looked to the other girl, who had picked herself up without a sound. Tears streaked her face, and she clutched the wall with one hand, a dagger in the other as her chest hitched with small, shallow breaths.
“Are you all right?” Ana asked, her gaze fixing back on the open door. Beyond, the forest stretched out in alternating patterns of shadow and moonlight.
“Yes.” Her voice was as faint as a breath of air. “Who is he?”
“It’s a long story.” Ana bent to pick up a shard of glass, holding it like a weapon. “We need to go after him. Can you move?”
The girl gave a swift nod. Her steps were light, like the rustle of a small bird’s wings, as she darted past Ana and hopped out the carriage door. Ana followed.
Her feet landed in soft, freshly fallen snow. Outside, the six guards that had ridden with the carriage lay dead, glassy-eyed beneath the shifting treetops. Dull metal blades protruded from their necks and chests. The snowfall had stopped and the skies had cleared, showing a bright moon and a blur of stars dotting the midnight sky. Sadov was nowhere to be seen.
The Windwraith pointed. A trail of footsteps led away from the carriage, into the darkness of the trees beyond. “I can go after him. He can’t be far.”
Ana closed her eyes. If she could just use her Affinity to sense where Sadov was right now…
But the Deys’voshk had already fully worked its way through her system, and the dosage that Sadov had given her could take as long as a day to wear off.
Ana shook her head. “He has an Affinity for fear. It would be dangerous for you to go by yourself.”
The Windwraith nodded. She flitted among the guards’ bodies, plucking knives and rations from them. For the first time, Ana realized that she was still in her ball gown, her beaded purse hanging from her wrist. The cold stung her skin and she wrapped her arms around herself.
“Here.” The Windwraith held out a bundle of clothes.
Ana hesitated. She’d heard so many stories of the Kemeiran Empire growing up—of how the far-eastern kingdom raised deadly assassins and deployed them as spies to serve its brutal regime. Distrust toward the nation was rooted deep in the bones of every Cyrilian. Papa had warned her of them, her tutors had taught her to be wary of them, and Luka had told her of the long war between the two empires.
Yet…this girl’s countenance, her quiet uncertainty, the naked fear that had seized her, all indicated otherwise. She had saved Ana’s life.