Her heart ached as she thought of her mamika. It was her aunt who had taught her to interpret the legends of the Deities, to find a sliver of relief in a world that despised Ana and her kind.
Ana pushed herself up, drawing a deep breath and wincing as she felt a sharp pain in her midriff. One hand darted to her abdomen; the other reached out for May.
Her hand clasped empty air.
Details of the previous night came crashing back. The rain. The mercenaries. The blood. Bile rose in her throat; she rubbed her eyes to chase away Blackbeard’s image, his face contorting, crimson spilling from his mouth.
Literally bled dry.
The work of the deimhov.
But…there had also been something else. Someone lifting her onto a horse, holding her steady throughout the night as they rode through a dark, rain-beaten forest. She’d lost consciousness at some point…and yet…
Ana touched the roughspun linen of her undertunic and breeches, her hands automatically tugging for a hooded cloak that wasn’t there. It lay strewn out across a stone by the fire, drying. Her rucksack sat nearby.
“Finally,” came a familiar voice, startling her. In the shadows beneath a pillar with the carving of a leaping fish, a figure moved. Ramson Quicktongue leaned into the firelight, eyes glinting, mouth curved in that infuriating grin. “I was tired of checking whether you’d died.”
Unease coursed through her. How long had he been sitting there, watching her? Last night had been a mistake—she’d overspent her Affinity and left herself defenseless. He could easily have killed her.
But…he hadn’t.
Ana narrowed her eyes. “I’m fine, thank you for asking.” Her voice came out in a rasp, as though someone were rubbing sandpaper down her throat.
Ramson chuckled and stood, clutching a waterskin. As he drew closer, she realized that the dark patches on his face were not shadows, but blooming bruises that were turning a nasty shade of purple. “Thank you for saving my life, Ramson,” he recited, spreading his hands and sauntering over. “Thank you for keeping me warm and dry, Ramson. Thank you for feeding me water and making sure I stayed alive, Ramson.” He paused as he reached her, and sank into a bow. “You’re very welcome, meya dama.”
She glared at him, but softened as he passed her the waterskin. As she guzzled down the cool rainwater, she suddenly realized how thirsty and how hungry she was. “How long was I asleep?”
“One day.”
The words hit her like a punch. They had lost an entire day’s time doing nothing—nothing, when they should have been going after those Whitecloaks who had taken May.
May.
Panic seized her. The world tilted sharply when she scrambled to her feet. She slammed into the wall, pain bursting in her shoulder. “We need to go,” she gasped. “We’ve lost too much time, we—”
Ramson was talking over her, his voice raised. “Calm your sails. We can’t leave now—”
“They have her!” Her voice rose hysterically. “They have May. The yaeger—he said they were going to lock her up—”
“Ana, stop!” His voice rang sharply in the empty temple chamber. The easy smile had slipped from Ramson’s face, and his hands were raised in a placating gesture. “Stop and think.”
A lump rose in her throat as she thought of May, standing alone in that empty square, fists clenched. You will not hurt her.
Tears burned behind her eyes. She had promised to protect May forever. “All right,” she said, and though her voice shook slightly, she steeled it. She was going to get May back. And she would do it Ramson’s way—by thinking through it thoroughly, and coming up with a plan and ten backup plans. “Sit.”
Ramson’s brows twitched, but he gave a seemingly good-natured shrug and sat across from her.
“You’re going to help me get her back, con man.”
“Me? Deities, who would have thought?”
“I’m not playing around. I don’t care if it isn’t part of our Trade. I saved you from whatever fate those bounty hunters had in mind for you. Since you speak so well in the language of bargaining, let me put it this way: you owe me, and you’re going to pay me back.”
“Since you think you speak so well in the language of bargaining, let me tell you this.” Ramson’s eyes had taken on a playful glint, and he leaned forward as he spoke. “If you hadn’t saved me, you would have lost your Trade and your precious alchemist.”
She would not be distracted by the taunts he threw her way.