The predawn air stung her cheeks, the cold rushing into her bones and sucking out every last bit of warmth. The shadow of the Syvern Taiga stretched before her, and she remembered the night she’d lost everything and run into its darkness.
Tonight, she stood to lose everything again. May, the light in her life, had kept her grounded, kept her good, and showed her the importance of love.
She was gone.
But there was one person left, Ana realized as Shamaïra’s dacha faded into a small blur of golden light.
Luka was still alive. And he needed her.
She was shaking as she continued to plunge forward. The town of Novo Mynsk dozed beneath a sky that shifted from black to a dark violet with the softest of blues fringing the edges.
Footsteps fell behind her. A familiar voice called her name.
Ana slowed. Turned.
Yuri’s fire-red hair was outlined in the faraway glow of Shamaïra’s dacha. “Don’t go,” he said.
She had a sudden memory of them as children back at the Palace. Her, after her worst rages or days of silence, screaming at him to go away. And Yuri, sitting against her door until the next morning, her tea long gone cold. It had been the little things that anchored her to the present—the sigh of his roughspun servant’s tunic as he stirred on the other side of the door, the gentle knock and soft whisper that he would be back with her breakfast, the slight clink of her teacup in the early-morning silence as he left with velvet steps. The smallest reminders that no matter what she became, no matter what her Affinity made her into, there was someone on the other side of that door, waiting for her. And that she had to continue to live and to hope.
“I’m sorry,” Ana said quietly.
“Stay,” Yuri insisted. He held out a hand.
Ana almost took it. But in the darkness, she saw the eerie veins still pulsing from her flesh. She thought of the blood red of her eyes. The bodies of the two brokers, blood pooling around them. And Ramson, lying unconscious on the floor.
She took a step back. “It’s best that I don’t,” she whispered.
Sorrow clouded Yuri’s eyes. “I stand by what I said earlier,” he said quietly. “The future lies here, with us. In the hands of the people.”
“I’ll fix it,” Ana found herself whispering. Yet the meaning of the sentence had blurred. What, exactly, was she going to fix when she went back to her Palace? She thought of Luka and his words that had defined her entire life; of Papa, turning away from her bedside that day, and then convulsing beneath her bloodstained hands. Of red blood and white snow at the Salskoff Vyntr’makt; of the broker’s skin stained crimson.
Monster.
Deimhov.
She was going to fix herself, Ana realized, guilt seeping into her stomach. For so long, she had held on to the idea that if she could find the alchemist and avenge the murder of her papa, then somehow she would be redeemed, too.
Redemption was something Ana had to earn; she needed to learn to forgive herself before she could fight for others.
Yet the Affinites of her empire could not wait for the equality that they deserved. And there already was a person who could lead them to it.
Ana took Yuri’s hands. “You will make a great leader, Yuri,” she said. “I pledge my heart to you, and my service to fighting for all Affinites. But first I need to fix the mistakes I’ve made.”
Yuri pressed her knuckles to his lips. “When you’re ready,” he said, “send a snowhawk to Goldwater Port. I plan to establish a stronghold there, in the south. Our revolution will begin there.” He drew her into his arms. “And remember that I love you, no matter what you choose.”
“I love you too, my friend.”
She clutched him tightly, breathing in the scent of his smoke and fire, closing her eyes and wishing she could stay like this forever.
She felt Yuri slip something around her neck; it tinkled, warm against her skin. Ana lifted it into her palm. The pendant winked at her: a small silver circle divided evenly into quarters, one for each season.
“A Deys’krug,” Yuri said, taking her hand. “We will come full circle again.”
“We will find each other again,” Ana reaffirmed, because the possibility that this was the last time they would see each other was something she couldn’t bear to voice. “Will you