Fear rippled across Sadov’s features. “N-no, Kolst Pryntsessa,” he whispered. “P-please…”
She smiled at him. “ ‘You little monster,’ ” she crooned, tightening her grip on him so that he cried out in pain. “Isn’t that what you always said to me?”
He screamed, his face turning red from her hold on his blood. Foam bubbled from his mouth. With his face contorted in pain, he truly looked like a creature from hell, a deimhov from a nightmare.
“You wanted a monster,” Ana hissed. With a crack, blood began to drip from Sadov’s nose. “Here I am.”
She’d never thought she would savor the utter terror that warped his face at this moment, that she’d feel a burst of delight at each drop of blood that fell to the floor.
Through the red haze of her Affinity, she felt someone else watching her. The gaze was familiar and unfamiliar at once. Morganya’s pale eyes were trained on her, and it suddenly felt as though she were a child again. There was a kind of approval shining from that gaze.
Approval. Something churned in Ana’s stomach. She stared back, Sadov dangling before her like a marionette, struggling for air. All the while, Morganya merely watched.
Morganya was not going to stop Ana if she killed Sadov. No—Morganya wanted her to kill Sadov.
An image flashed before her: a square of silver and snow, a crowd, and a crimson pool seeping into the cobblestones. Eight crumpled figures, limbs twisting in unnatural angles. They formed a circle around her, radiating like enormous petals of a gnarled flower.
Ana dropped to her knees and screamed. It stretched, long and thin, threatening to shatter her mind like glass.
It’s all right, sistrika. I’m here. Bratika’s here.
In her mind, she was back in her room, and Luka had wrapped his arms around her shoulders, murmuring soothing words.
The memory shifted, and he lay dying in her arms, crimson spreading across his tunic.
Promise me, he’d said.
He hadn’t only been asking her to promise to become Empress. No—Luka had always thought bigger than that. For her entire life, her brother had watched over her, saving her…saving her from what? Not from death. Not from the wrath of the world. Not even from Sadov, or from Morganya.
Luka had been protecting her from the darkness of her Affinity; from the version of herself she could have—and could still—become.
To kill Sadov, to take her revenge…that was the choice that would make her a monster.
Promise me.
The world dulled. The red receded. She released Sadov and he crumpled to the floor. The fury, the bloodlust, and the blinding rage that had consumed her withdrew like a receding tide, leaving her raw.
Ana collapsed. As though from a distance, she heard Morganya calling orders. Kill her, her aunt cried. She is a dangerous Affinite. She could have murdered us all.
Sadov crawled away from her, trailing blood and whimpering. All around them, guests were fleeing through the doors, and the remaining Councilmembers lingered in the safety of the farthest corners of the Throneroom.
A shadow fell upon Ana. The face was familiar; large eyes against pale skin and a bald forehead. Those eyes gazed into hers, as inscrutable as ever.
She felt a cold glass vial being tilted to her lips; sweet, honeylike liquid poured down her throat. This was not Deys’voshk. It was a different kind of poison. Ana struggled. The gray eyes became stern. Tetsyev clamped a hand on her nose. She had no strength left to resist.
Her mind was becoming muggy.
A numbing sensation was spreading from her stomach to her abdomen and into her limbs.
“It is done, Kolst Imperatorya.” Tetsyev’s voice was distant as he drew back. “The Blood Witch will die.”
The poison worked fast. It spread through her veins like ice, freezing her muscles.
Several steps from her, Luka lay on the dais, peaceful even in his death.
I love you, Luka, she thought. I’m sorry.
A figure approached. Morganya’s eyes brimmed with tears, and they spilled down her face as she knelt next to Ana. She put a hand to Ana’s cheek; her fingers were ice-cold to the touch. Slowly, Morganya lowered her lips to Ana’s face, pausing a breath away.
“You pitiful creature,” Morganya whispered, caressing her hair. “Tetsyev did the humane thing. He’s always been more softhearted than I, my talented alchemist. I would have saved you for Sadov’s dungeons.”
Ana wanted to reach up and claw Morganya’s eyes out. Her arms would not move.
Morganya’s breath warmed Ana’s neck. She was laughing softly. From a distance, anyone would think she was kneeling over Ana’s body, grieving.