Blood Heir

20

Flames roared to life along the thread of oil that poured from the torch, winding along the marble floor like a shimmering, transparent serpent. For a moment, the man was hidden from view behind the wall of fire. And then he stepped through, his hands outstretched, and two pillars of flames shot from his palms into the air.

The screaming started.

Ana ran for the stage.

The crowd jostled against her as the nobles fled like frightened children, the leers on their faces replaced by unadulterated fear. But Ana’s eyes were fixed on the fire Affinite.

Yuri.

She remembered the sparks in his coal-gray eyes back then, when he would slip ptychy’molokos onto her dinner trays. That warmth had grown to a raging fire—wild and untamed.

He’d planned something—she didn’t know what—but the show, the gold, had all been a ruse to get him to the stage. And now May’s life was in danger.

Movement in the ceiling alcoves drew her attention. The marksmen shifted, orange torchlight glinting off their blackstone arrows.

Ana’s gaze whipped to the stage. Beyond the searing flames, behind the blackstone glass, stood May, alone. The broker was gone; she thought she saw a flash of his back as he disappeared behind the curtains.

The archers nocked, and drew.

For a terrifying second, the world seemed to slow, and all that Ana heard were arrows whistling as they shot toward the stage.

Ana reached for May’s blood—and again, her Affinity hit cold, empty blackstone. Panic surged in her chest—

The stage exploded. Not in blood and not in fire… but in ice. Crystal-white ice crackled to life above the arena, forming a hard, glittering arch over the entire stage. The arrows ricocheted off the ice and clattered to the ground.

Onstage, the Ice Queen straightened, her hands outstretched, her ash-white hair whipping in the heat of the flames. She turned, locking gazes with Yuri. And gave a single slow nod.

Together, they turned to the blackstone glass wall behind them. Fire and ice crackled into existence from thin air, whorls of silver-white and flaming red that slammed against the glass.

They were going to bring down the arena. And if that glass fell, if the stage collapsed, everyone underneath would be crushed.

Which meant Ana had to get May out before that.

“May,” she screamed, searching for a glimpse of the girl behind the elements that raged against the glass. She was so close—but still not close enough to protect May.

A shock wave of heat pulsed from the stage, engulfing her. Ana threw up her arms and squinted at the bright, impossible spectacle.

Yuri channeled fire from the torches encircling the arena. Heat coursed in a powerful, blazing ring around the stage, lighting up the Playpen as the terrified audience fled for the exit. He was strong—much stronger than he’d been back at the Palace. Or had he kept the true power of his Affinity from her? To be able to manipulate that much fire, whereas most fire Affinites could barely keep a small candle going…

She had to get behind that glass prison. She had to get to May.

Ana stretched her Affinity, and her power roared to life, brighter than any flame. She latched on to Yuri and the Ice Queen and tugged.

Through watering eyes, she saw them stumble and crash. The raging fire and roaring ice stopped, leaving an uneven, ice-covered wall. Cracks ran jaggedly along its surface, spreading like veins.

Yuri rolled over, and his burning gaze landed on Ana. He raised his palms.

“Yuri—”

As flames exploded from his hands, something collided painfully with her stomach. Ana slammed against the edge of the stage and found herself looking into Ramson’s face as he untangled himself from her. Soot smudged his cheeks. “Ana,” he croaked, but she shoved him back and leapt onto the stage.

Through the gently steaming ice and gray-tinted glass stood the shadow of a small figure. The translucent barrier between them made it seem like a dream.

May raised a hand. From the flowerpot before her rose a lump of earth. With a crunching noise, it shrank, hardening into a rock. May lashed out, and the rock smashed into the blackstone glass.

Boom.

Again.

And again.

On her fifth try, there was a splintering sound. Spiderweb cracks spread along the glass; the ice emitted a series of explosive pops.

She was breaking the wall.

As Ana watched the child raise her hands and draw the rock back again, it suddenly dawned on her that May was working with Yuri and the Ice Queen.

May was part of the plan. She was taking a stance, fighting with the rebels to end the cruelty of the Playpen, to bring down—literally—the glass prison that had caged them.

The rock swung forward. With a final resounding crack, the glass shattered. For a moment, the shards tumbled in the air, ice and glass intermingled, a thousand pieces of glistening fragments fractaling in the blazing torchlight. And then they fell, racing toward the ground with piercing intent.

Ana dove for May.

Yuri dove for Ana.

On the other end of the stage, the Ice Queen flung her hand out. Ice rose from the ground like a solid white wave, hardening into a barrier over their heads.

Fragments of what had been the blackstone glass rained down all around them, filling the air with soft tinkling as they bounced off the ice archway overhead.

Ana’s shoulder slammed onto the stage as Yuri tackled her, his hands at her throat, his teeth bared in rage. She fought back, her fingers prying at his hands, her mask hot and sweaty against her face. “Yuri,” she choked. “Stop—”

“I’ll have you know how it feels to die at the hand of an Affinite,” he growled, lifting his hand.

“Yuri!” She ripped her mask off. “It’s me!”

He froze, hand hovering above her, expression suspended between confusion and rage. And then, slowly, recognition seeped into his eyes, along with disbelief. He drew back, lifting his hands from her as though he’d been burned. “Kolst—”

“Ana!” The sweetest voice rang out, one Ana would recognize anywhere.

May knelt on the stage, barely ten paces from Ana, the astonishment on her face quickly giving way to joy.

Relief hit Ana so hard that a half laugh, half sob bubbled from her lips. “May,” she cried, reaching forward.

An arrow whizzed past her and struck the marble stage.

“May!” Ana’s cry turned to one of panic as another arrow lanced off the stage, a hand’s breadth from her.

“Dyanna!” Behind her, Yuri gave an agonized yell.

At the edge of the stage, the Ice Queen—Dyanna—looked up, her face almost as ashen as her hair. Blood, startlingly red against her pallor, dripped from her nose.

A blur whizzed toward her. Dyanna’s body jolted with the shock of the impact. She slumped onto the ground, the shaft of an arrow protruding from her back. The thick scent of blood filled the air.

“Dyanna! Dyan—” Yuri’s shout broke into a choked sob. “No. No.”

“Yuri!” Ana seized his arm, pinning him beneath the ice barrier. “We have to get out—”

An arrow struck the ground next to May. The child’s eyes widened as she looked up; she turned and began to run toward the velvet curtains.

In the shadows of the viewing alcoves above, the marksmen nocked and drew. Ana was already scrambling to her feet, even as arrows shot toward them, even as she realized that she would not reach May before an arrow found its mark.

But someone else was running toward the child. Ramson flung himself at May, skidding across the ruined marble on his nobleman’s trousers and peacoat. Shattered glass and ice crunched beneath him. He rolled, bundled May into his arms, and dove for the curtains.

Whoosh. The arrow grazed his abdomen. He arched his back in pain, gave a muffled grunt, and staggered.

Ana was already running. She reached Ramson’s side at the same time as Yuri; together, they hauled Ramson and May off the stage and into the darkness behind the velvet curtains.