We. She stared at Sadov in disbelief, the realization hitting her. “You’re an Affinite.”
Sadov’s thin lips peeled back in a grotesque grin. “Oh, yes.”
Ana was shaking, memories of his long white fingers reaching from the darkness of the dungeons, fear twisting her stomach until she could barely breathe. “You control the mind, just like Morganya.”
Sadov tilted his head, looking like a teacher fishing for an answer from a pupil. “Almost correct, Kolst Pryntsessa. My Affinity resonates with emotions. Specifically, with fear.”
Fear. He was a fear Affinite. Ana thought back to the inexplicable terror that threatened to drown her each time she descended the steps of the dungeons. The way her palms grew clammy and her throat closed up and her legs turned to cotton no matter how much she steeled herself to face the horrors.
It had been Sadov all along, playing with her mind. “But you…you fed me Deys’voshk. You tortured me.” Her voice trembled.
“I did it to make you stronger,” Sadov crooned, his eyes bright. “Deys’voshk builds your resilience; it poisons your body, but it forces your Affinity to fight back. I liken it to an infection, and your Affinity must drive it from your body. That is how the Countess and I grew our powers over the years. We constantly suppressed our Affinities and forced them to grow stronger.”
Ana felt sick. “Why?”
She already knew the answer. “So you can fight with us.” Sadov reached out, tipping her chin. “Join us, and together, we will resurrect this world from the ashes. We will rule, as we deserve, and we will purge the world of the unworthy.”
Ana stared into her torturer’s eyes—wide and burning with fervor. This was not a game; it was not a lie. Sadov actually believed what he was telling her. “You’re mad.”
The fire in Sadov’s eyes flickered and went out. He leaned back, smooth and cold again. “The Countess said you might resist. Too righteous, she said.” He threaded his fingers together and narrowed his gaze. “It matters little. You will join us, whether of your own free will or by force.”
“I will never join you.” Her voice was a low snarl. “You speak of mass murder across my empire. And I would die before I let that happen.”
“Pity,” Sadov said softly. “My other victims spoke just as bravely before they gave in to my Affinity. You don’t know yet, Pryntsessa, how it feels to experience true hopelessness. I will show you.”
The carriage darkened. Sadov’s eyes had become bottomless pits, and she was falling, falling endlessly, with no way out.
Around her, the shadows morphed, growing claws and swarming at the windows, reaching for her. Ana bit back a scream. Her pulse raced, her heart was going to burst from her chest, her arms and legs had frozen and there was nothing she could do against the terror that was going to engulf her—
Then, just like that, it vanished. The monsters outside became the silhouettes of leaves, and the fear drained like water from a tub, leaving her hollow and empty. Sweat coated her forehead and her limbs; her palms were slick as she pushed herself up. A single, strangled sob escaped her.
Sadov leaned forward like a fascinated child. “Ah, how does it feel?” he whispered.
Ana spat in his face. “I will never stop fighting,” she said. The carriage shook as it rolled over a bump on the road. Several branches snapped over the roof. “You will never win if you think fear is the way.”
Sadov wiped his face and looked at her with an ugly expression. “You’ve lost,” he said. “You think you won over Pyetr Tetsyev? He was with us the entire time. We needed him on our side until the young Emperor Mikhailov was dead.”
The knowledge that Tetsyev had betrayed her settled into her chest with dead certainty. And Ana knew, inevitably, that the next time she came face-to-face with that alchemist, she would kill him.
“You think that pathetic con man is coming for you?” Sadov continued, growing more delighted. “He’s dead. There is no one coming for you, Kolst Pryntsessa.”
He’s dead. Despite everything she’d learned about Ramson, the words twisted in her heart like a dagger. She thought of Fyrva’snezh, standing with him outside and watching snow swirl slowly, silently from the skies.
How much of it had been real?
It didn’t matter. Sadov was right—nobody was coming for her. So she would have to fight her way out by herself. Like she always had.