They discussed every minute, pinpointed every position, worked through all the potential scenarios, and carefully mapped it all out.
By the end of two days, they had exhausted every detail of May’s rescue and Kerlan’s ball, and even Ana’s diligence was wearing thin.
“There’s no chance we can get her today or tomorrow?” she’d pestered Ramson.
“No,” Ramson replied on the afternoon of the second day, lounging on Ana’s cot. “We need to attend the show and play by the rules.”
“But—”
“Do you really want to rob a man before attending his party?” He flipped a goldleaf between his fingers; the coin caught the late-afternoon sun, flashing as Ramson made it appear, and then disappear again. “We’re walking into the lion’s den. There’s only so much we can control. But if Kerlan wanted us dead, we’d be dead already.”
“Why do you say that?” Ana looked up from the corner where she sat, straight-backed and cross-legged amid dozens of parchments with the maps and plans they had scribbled. Parcels of their supplies were stacked neatly against the wall—outfits, mostly, for the next few days. They’d spent a good portion of their coin—and the rest, well, Ana assumed she and Ramson would split it between them when the time came to part ways.
The thought filled her with a strange feeling, and she quickly looked at him again—his tousled sandy hair peeking over her pillows—to make sure he was still there.
“I’ve been in touch with some of his contacts. He’ll be expecting us at his ball. That’s why, while you corner Tetsyev, I’ll be upstairs distracting Kerlan so he doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.” He flicked the goldleaf into the air and caught it; when he opened his palm again, it was gone. “He thinks I’m going to offer him a Trade.”
Ana bit the end of her pen. “And what are you going to do?”
“Kill him? Charm him? Who knows.” Ramson gave her a wicked smile, and Ana suspected he knew exactly what he was going to do. She’d learned to stop asking for answers she’d never get.
So Ana returned to her papers, focusing on the things she could get: May, her alchemist, and a way back to her brother.
* * *
—
Boom-ba-da-BOOM.
The drums beat. The torches blazed. The audience cheered. Yet tonight they struck a different rhythm in Ana’s heart. Tonight they were a countdown for her as she weaved through the crowds of sleepy, intoxicated nobles.
It was the fourth night of their stay at Novo Mynsk, and the evening of May’s performance. Everything hinged on tonight.
Bogdan paced the stage, his voice booming across the crowded auditorium. Was it Ana’s imagination, or did a sheen of sweat coat the entertainer’s brow?
The Ice Queen had finished her performance; she stood at the side of the stage outside the glass, beaming at the crowd. She was the constant on a stage of rotating Affinites, their displays filling the arena with water and rocks and fire and all other elements imaginable.
Bogdan spread his arms. “Next up, mesyrs and meya damas, we have an earth Affinite.”
Every fiber in Ana’s body drew taut.
“She can coax life from nothing but mud; she can make your favorite flowers bloom brighter than the stars in the night sky!”
Onstage, the curtains parted. An assistant scurried out and placed a pot at the edge of the glass wall before ducking backstage.
From the darkness of the curtains, a silhouette emerged—and Ana’s world hissed into sharp focus. The Affinite shuffled forward in an oversized dark brown dress sewn with glittery red flowers, their stems curling around her body. Her shoulders were slumped, her outline smaller and bonier than Ana remembered, and her head was bent. Her lovely ocean eyes were hidden.
Ana fought down tears as May, barely half the size of the other Affinites that had appeared in the ring, stumbled onto the center of the stage. Titters started in the audience, and Bogdan gave an accommodating chuckle. “Come now, darling!” he boomed. “We haven’t got all day!”
May’s eyes were fixed upon a spot on the floor as she tried to quicken her pace. Her skirts twisted around her ankles; she stumbled and fell with a thud.
A small, distressed noise escaped Ana as the crowd jeered; she felt Ramson’s hand close around her arm. His eyes glinted. “All good things—” he whispered.
—come to those who wait.
Still, Ana’s rage coiled white-hot within her. She stretched her Affinity, brushing it hungrily over the blood of the crowd. How she wished to unleash her power unto these bastards—to let them