with such force that her breath caught. Pain burst through her shoulder as they slammed into the ground and skidded.
Ana looked up just in time to see a marble pillar smash onto the spot where they had been a heartbeat ago. Bits of chipped marble and rock exploded in all directions.
Her back hurt; she and Ramson were a tangle of limbs between the silks of her gown. He pushed himself up and hauled her to her feet. “Ana.” He cupped her cheek, his voice low, urgent. “The Coronation. You need to go.”
“You can’t win here alone.” Her voice was harder than she meant for it to be, only so that it wouldn’t shake.
“If you stay here, you lose your brother and your empire.” His tone was harsh.
Ana hesitated.
She’d doubted Ramson and his intentions, up until this very moment. He was putting his life on the line for her.
Ana only wished she hadn’t realized so late.
But Kerlan was laughing, the marble Affinite was lifting another pillar, the Palace guards were almost upon them, and the Coronation was beginning. She had a choice to make, and that choice was not Ramson.
Ana seized a fistful of his shirt, pulling him to her so that they were a breath apart. Through the haze of sweat and blood, Ramson’s eyes found her. “Don’t you dare die on me, con man,” she whispered before she let go. And then she was on her feet and running down the Hall of Deities.
The squad of Palace guards marched toward her, blue cloaks flapping behind them, blackstone-infused swords gleaming beneath the chandeliers. She kept running until she felt the yaeger’s mental block slip from her mind, his presence behind her flickering out.
She slowed, ten paces from the Palace guards. And it hit her that she recognized them—most were familiar faces who had served her just one year ago.
They seemed to recognize her, too; several guards slowed, uncertainty and disbelief warring over their faces. Their leader came to a stop, his sword steady in his hands, his eyes betraying his hesitation.
“Lieutenant Henryk,” Ana said steadily.
His eyes widened. “It is you, Kolst Pryntsessa.” He stood his ground, whereas a year ago, he would have knelt at her feet.
Ana tilted her head. “Where is Kapitan Markov?” When he didn’t answer, she took another step forward. “Where is Markov, Henryk?”
Henryk’s mouth tightened. “I have my orders to arrest you, Kolst Pryntsessa.”
“Whose orders?”
“The Kolst Contessya.” His tone was firm, his face belying no emotion. “Please, come quietly. I do not wish to hurt you.”
“I believe you,” she said, and lifted a hand. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I have to get through.”
The six guards fell to their knees as her Affinity tightened around them, their swords clattering to the floor. Lieutenant Henryk was the last to fall. He lifted his head to meet her eyes. His mouth opened and closed, as though he were struggling to say something to her.
Ana stepped past the kneeling guards, her steps ringing loud and clear as she approached the doors of the Grand Throneroom. Another dozen steps and the grand mahogany doors with the white tiger handles loomed before her.
Fatigue descended over her like a heavy cloud. She steeled herself, reining in her shaking muscles. Chin high, shoulders back. Just as Luka had always taught her.
Ana grasped the sigil of her empire and pushed the doors open.
Before her Affinity had manifested, she’d been in the Grand Throneroom on multiple special occasions. Papa and Mama would sit on the two white-gold thrones atop the dais at the end of the long hall, while she and Luka perched on the seats reserved for them at either side. After her incident, Papa had never brought her back in—yet the grandeur of the room had never left her memory.
Blazing chandelier light illuminated a wide hall with a stretch of pale blue carpeting that extended all the way to the dais at the other end. The domed ceilings bore frescoes of the Deities in all shapes and forms, accompanied by reverent angels and mythical animals.
Below, in the room, fifty pairs of real, live eyes stared at Ana. On the gilded seats on either side of the hall reclined the Empire’s most powerful noblemen and noblewomen. The expressions on their faces ranged from confusion to shock.
But Ana’s gaze was set on the thrones straight ahead and the figures seated in them. It was difficult not to notice Morganya first, draped across the throne in a fine gown of shimmering blue and silver, her black hair cascading