drawing in a deep breath to steady her heartbeat. These were Imperial Patrols—defenders of the law, watchers of her empire. They could not mean harm.
Yet…she had never known them to check for employment and identification papers.
Sucking in another gulp of air, Ana fought to keep her voice level as she replied, “We don’t have papers.”
The kapitan’s eyes narrowed, and he cut a glance to the blackstone wagon. It wasn’t until then that Ana noticed the feeling of being watched, the hairs on her arms and neck prickling.
One of the Patrols gazed at her from beside the prison wagon. Clad in the same whites as his kapitan, he stood in the shadows, his eyes as piercing as daggers. A strange sensation crept through her: a subtle tugging, as though someone were pulling at invisible bonds in the same way she called on others’ blood.
Yaeger, her senses screamed at her. He’s a yaeger.
A hunter, in Old Cyrilian: a type of Affinite with the power to sense and control other Affinities. Kapitan Markov had told her these were recognized as the most powerful and rarest of Affinites, often scouted by Imperial Patrols to keep peace between Affinites and non-Affinites.
The yaeger’s gaze sliced to his kapitan and the strange man dressed in black; he gave a curt nod.
The kapitan turned back to Ana. “It is unlawful for anyone to be found without proper identification documents—especially Affinites. We’ll need to take you in for questioning. Our contractor can explain this to you.” He cast a nod at the black-cloaked man.
“No.” The sob was barely a breath from May’s lips, loud enough for only Ana to hear. “Don’t listen to them, Ana. He’s a bad man. A broker.”
A broker. Ana stared, her mind careening. The Whitecloaks, specifically, were meant to find and stop the brokers.
How had two figures on opposing sides of the law ended up working together?
Who do you think pays them more? The Empire? Or the profitable businesses that rely on them to employ Affinites? Ramson had asked.
It suddenly all clicked with the weight of a broken world: the picture she had been searching for in the dark, now blindingly bright.
Ana staggered back.
This was wrong—this was all wrong. The bad men were the Affinite traffickers and brokers that her mamika Morganya had described to her as crooked storybook villains. Not the Imperial soldiers who served her father and brother, who pledged to protect the Empire.
What kind of an empire had her father ruled?
“We are not—” Her voice shook, and whatever denial she’d been about to voice dissipated on her lips. The pastry vendor had retreated to her now-appeased employer’s side, her eyes downcast, her face in the shadows, the employment contract trembling in her hands.
I am Anastacya Kateryanna Mikhailov, Ana wanted to scream, tears burning her eyes. I am the Crown Princess of Cyrilia.
Yet the tricky thing about truth, Ana realized, standing beneath the shadow of the Imperial Patrols with empty hands and a threadbare cloak, was that it meant nothing if it couldn’t be proven.
And it struck her, in this very moment, that there was nothing at all different between her and the grain Affinite.
Dimly, she heard the kapitan issuing orders to the rest of his squad. “Prepare for lawful arrest by force should the subjects not comply.”
The yaeger moved forward.
May screamed.
And Ana snapped.
She scooped May into her arms, swallowing a scream as she barreled through the crowd. She could sense the Whitecloaks behind them, the yaeger’s control on her Affinity flowing and ebbing like waves. With his manipulation, her awareness of the blood around her flickered, throwing off her sense of balance. He was gaining on them—fast. And May was heavy.
She made a split-second decision. Ana set May down on the ground and gave the girl a hard push. May staggered. “Run,” Ana ordered. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“No!” May screamed. “Ana—”
At that moment, the yaeger’s control over her slipped. Her Affinity flared; she used that moment to latch on to May’s blood. I love you, Ana meant to say, but she only managed, “I’m sorry.”
She seized the blood in May’s small body and flung the child as far back as she could.
Ana turned to face the yaeger. She was shaking, desperately grasping at her Affinity as it slid in and out of her command. The crowd around her parted in panic as the yaeger advanced on her. He’d slowed to a walk, his footsteps falling on the cobblestones like the beat of an execution drum.