the glass. Hair flying, dress rippling, she twisted her hands and ice shot from her wrists to the ground, anchoring her as she somersaulted through the air and landed on the other side of the stage.
The crowd erupted; the Ice Queen smirked and curtsied with all the grace of a performer.
“She looks like she’s enjoying it,” Ana whispered.
“She’s a regular,” Ramson muttered by her side, bringing his hands together in a slow clap. He was staring at the stage, his jaw clenched, his shoulders stiff. “She works with the brokers.”
“Under contract?”
“Right, but…” Ramson hesitated, and for the first time since they’d met, Ana watched him struggle to find words. “She’s not contracted against her will, if that’s what you’re asking. She works with the brokers.”
Not against her will, Ana thought, turning back as the Ice Queen spun onstage, ice blooming beneath her feet.
The audience oohed and aahed as the Ice Queen began to sculpt ice with flicks of her wrist. A splash of ice rose into the air, becoming a graceful, loping deer. Another wave crystallized into a pack of running wolves. A prowling Cyrilian tiger. A valkryf horse.
This was greater than just a show, Ana realized. This was a Deities-damned display of what Affinite employment could look like; a reassurance to those who blindly believed their own righteousness and morality while continuing to perpetuate violence and abuse against those powerless to resist it. May. The grain Affinite at Kyrov. And the Affinites who stood in the wings, waiting to be exhibited like dolls.
All of that pain and suffering, veiled behind a single glitzy show of sparkling ice sculptures and glittering outfits.
The Ice Queen slammed her hands to the ground. A column of ice thrust her into the air, growing taller and taller until it was level with the top of the glass wall—
And she vaulted over the wall, landing on two pillars of ice that shrank rapidly down toward the outside of the stage where Bogdan stood. The archers hidden in the ceiling alcoves made no motion to stop her.
The Ice Queen stepped onto the marble of the stage and took a deep bow.
“I present,” cried Bogdan. “The Ice Queen!” As the crowd thundered with applause, Bogdan took the Ice Queen’s hands and brought them to his lips. She smiled coyly at him before beaming at the audience and waving.
“Next up, Wood Nymph!”
“Ramson.” Ana’s voice was low with urgency. “He didn’t announce any earth Affinites today.”
“Bogdan chooses the Affinites he wants to announce.” Ramson cut her a glance. “Patience. All good things come to those who wait.”
So Ana watched the show in silence. Affinite after Affinite emerged through the curtains to show their powers. Before long, the marble stage was littered with flower petals, twigs, and earth; the glass was smudged with mist, frost, and water. The crowd cheered or booed depending on the performance of the Affinite. And sometimes, for a few goldleaves, Bogdan would engage the audience, directing the Affinite onstage to obey requests from the crowd. Particularly popular performances could end with showers of goldleaves pooling at his feet.
The night wore on and there was no sight of May. Yet Ana felt a chill spreading through her. She was no different from those Affinites onstage, whose suffering the world chose to hide beneath a sham layer of paint and bright outfits. Whose existence some hated, yet continued to profit from.
We will continue to cure your condition, Papa had told her. For your own good.
She blinked back tears as the realization twined around her chest, leaving her breathless and reeling. Papa had only loved the part of her that wasn’t an Affinite, a monster, a deimhov, in his words. He’d only wanted to save a part of her, not all of her.
Just as he’d only wanted to save the part of his empire he thought of as worth saving.
And for so long, she had only loved a part of herself, denying that other half, hiding the crimson of her eyes and the grotesque veins of her hands beneath hoods and gloves. For so long, she had desperately wanted to tear that other part of herself off, to make herself into something wholly deserving of love. Something that could step into the light, something worthy of the Deities’ blessings.
Yet who was it…who had deemed the other parts of her and her empire unworthy? Who had determined that Affinites were less worthy of love, of being human, and why? Simply on the basis that they were…different?
And