wall, pain erupting in her back and her injured arm.
Blinking through the dark spots in her vision, she looked up.
May stood where Ana had been moments before, the sheath of a throwing knife protruding from her abdomen. A dark patch was rapidly spreading across her dress, crimson seeping into her fingers as she tried to stanch its flow with her bare hands. Her eyes were wide with surprise as she met Ana’s gaze, her mouth puckered in a slight O.
She staggered and fell lightly to the ground.
Time seemed to stop, and the rest of the world dissipated until there was only the image of May’s small figure slumped on the reddening floor, seared indelibly into Ana’s mind. Her ears filled with a strange ringing silence as she clawed her way to the child’s side; she thought she heard screaming, but nothing made sense anymore.
Ana lifted May into her arms. Had she always been this light?
“May,” Ana whispered. Her hands came away sticky and dark.
The world crashed back in a whirl of smoke and blood. It took Ana a moment to realize that the yaeger’s barrier on her mind had lifted.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ramson shove the yaeger aside, his dagger protruding from her back. Nuryasha lay at his feet, motionless in a pool of her own blood. The broker was gone.
Ramson’s eyes latched on to May, and he swore softly.
“Ana,” whispered May.
“Hush.” Ana clasped her shaking hands over May’s, pressing against the wound. “I’ll stop the bleeding, and we’ll get you bandaged up.”
May’s chest hitched in short, shallow breaths. A dizzying amount of blood hit Ana’s senses; her Affinity shuddered, and she bit back her nausea.
“My ma-ma said,” May murmured, and drew another rattling breath, “ ‘We are but dust and stars.’ She told me…before we separated…to look for her in the earth and in the stars.”
A sob choked Ana’s throat. “No,” she gasped. “We’re going to find her, May—May!” She cradled her friend’s head as her eyes fluttered. “Listen to me. Your ma-ma is waiting for you out there. Waiting to see you. We’re going to find her together, all right?”
“I don’t…I don’t want to go.” May fought for breath, tears drowning her eyes. “I want…to live.”
Ana scrabbled at May’s wound, desperately grasping at the blood and pushing it back. It leaked through her fingers and her Affinity. She’d never learned to use her power this way. For her entire life, she’d learned only to hurt and torture. She had never learned to heal.
A gut-wrenching scream tore from her throat. “I can’t,” she gasped. “Ramson—Yuri—someone! Help!”
“The Revolution.” May’s small fingers curled around Ana’s, tugging gently, insistently. “Promise me, Ana, you’ll make it better. For my ma-ma. For all the Affinites. And promise…you’ll find her.”
“I will, I will,” Ana sobbed. She would have promised anything in that moment to keep May talking for a little while longer. “I’ll do it, May, but I need you—”
The world spun, and May’s blood poured out like sand in an hourglass, time careening in a relentless blur toward that inevitable end.
“Dust and stars,” May whispered. She had started to shiver. “We are but dust and stars.”
“Please, May.” Ana couldn’t breathe. “Please. Don’t go where I can’t follow.”
May drew a long breath. “I’m always here, Ana,” she whispered, and closed her ocean eyes, her words fading like a whisper of wind. “You’ll find me in the stars.”
Ana clung to May, curling her own body around the child’s. Was there a word to describe grief so deep that it cleaved you apart, carved a hole inside of you and left you hollow?
Ana was dimly aware that the fighting had stopped, that the guards’ bodies littered the corridor before them. Several people had fanned out around her, watching her. Warm hands grasped her shoulders. A familiar voice called her name.
A hand cupped her cheek, lifting her chin. She found herself looking into Ramson’s eyes. The usual mirth had disappeared from them, leaving them a somber hazel. Gently, he brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering by her cheek. She could almost read his thoughts in the gesture. I’m sorry. The words trembled in the air between them.
“Ana.” Yuri’s voice was hollow. “I’m sorry.”
Ramson whirled and slammed Yuri against the wall. “You,” Ramson snarled, “have no right to be sorry.”
Yuri choked, his hands flying to Ramson’s wrist, but Ramson didn’t let go, and Yuri didn’t resist.
“If you hadn’t tried your little stunt, this would never have happened. You think