she was aware that archers had poured into the room and trained their arrows on her back, waiting for the command to fire. “We need Deys’voshk. I know what she can do with her Affinity—I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Vladimir! Vladimir!”
“Kolst Contessya, allow me.”
Ana froze at the soft, smooth voice. Next to the Councilmembers seated closest to the throne stood a figure dressed in white alchemist robes. Tetsyev touched a hand to his Deys’krug as he gazed up at Morganya.
Morganya’s expression softened. “Go on, Pyetr.” Her eyes shone with a secret triumph.
Tetsyev turned to Ana.
“Traitor,” Ana spat. It was no longer anger that gripped her. Certainty settled in her chest. If she was to die, she would at least take this murderer with her.
Yet as Ana grasped his bonds with her Affinity, something else came to her. Another memory, of a dungeon, and a weeping, frightened man.
Morganya is strong, but she is not invincible.
How much of what Tetsyev had told her that night had been the truth?
She can control only one mind at a time. And her control can be broken. When you used your Affinity on me, it cut through Morganya’s Affinity.
Could it be? That her Affinity could cancel out Morganya’s Affinity, break her aunt’s hold over Luka for just a small while?
She hesitated. Perhaps everything Tetsyev had told her had been a lie. Yet…She thought of his eyes, the remorse in his voice, the words he’d whispered in the dark. She hadn’t been able to shake off the feeling that he’d spoken the truth that night.
It was worth a try.
Ana threw her Affinity to Luka and gave the gentlest pull.
Even from here, she could sense the wrongness to his blood, the amount of the foreign substance in it. It was sluggish and cold whereas it should have been thrumming and warm. Her heart ached, but she pulled again.
As she concentrated her Affinity on her brother, she was faintly aware of guards seizing her, crossing their swords over her, the blackstone-infused metal cold against her throat.
For the third time, Ana pulled.
Luka blinked. Gave a small gasp.
Ana’s heart soared as his eyes found hers. Truly found hers. They looked brighter, more alert, as though he had just woken from a long, long slumber.
Please, Luka. Wake up.
“Stop,” Luka said.
The entire Court turned to look at him with wonder. Tetsyev blinked, and turned in his tracks. “Kolst Imperator…?”
But the brightness in Luka’s eyes was fading again; he looked even more lost as he leaned back, exhaling as though he had spent all of his energy. Flatly, he said, “We must get on with the coronation.”
Ana’s heart sank. Morganya was looking directly at her; a corner of her aunt’s lips curled in the shadow of a smile.
“I, Lukas Aleksander Mikhailov—”
“No!” Ana shouted, but the look her brother gave her was stern—like the ones Papa used to give them.
Everything was going to hell.
“Silence her,” Luka commanded the guards. His gaze then snapped directly to her: bursting with life and confidence and the power of an emperor. “Quiet, brat.”
Brat. She stared at her brother, her heart thumping so hard in her chest that she thought it might burst free.
Luka drew himself straight with the small amount of energy he had left. His voice was dull as he recited, “I, Lukas Aleksander Mikhailov, announce the temporary abdication of the throne to the Cyrilian Empire for reasons of personal health.”
Morganya’s face was aglow in triumph.
“In the event of my abdication or death, I hereby crown the heir to the throne of Cyrilia.” Luka suddenly focused on Ana with such intensity that it took her breath away. “I name the Crown Princess Anastacya Kateryanna Mikhailov as heir and future Empress to the Cyrilian Empire.”
Ramson was going to die.
The ground rumbled beneath his feet as he dove out of the way of another crashing marble pillar, slamming against the opposite wall. His breaths were coming in ragged gasps, and blood trickled down the side of his face.
He shook his head, clearing the double vision. Focus. Ana was still in there. She needed him to hold Kerlan and his cronies here.
He’d held the yaeger at bay so far—when the tall man with those glacial eyes had taken off after Ana, Ramson had jumped in front of him to stop him. He’d been fighting a losing battle even before the marble Affinite joined the party.
Ramson gripped his daggers, pushing himself to his feet and swiping a hand across his nose. It came back bloody.