Blood Heir (Blood Heir Trilogy #1)(107)
Ana threw her weight against it and pushed. The door gave way, and she slipped inside, just as she’d seen Yuri do so many times.
They were in a narrow hallway lined with shelves that were stacked with white linens and clean tablecloths, ready to be transported to their destinations.
They found a rack of guest gowns and tunics and shivered as they shed their wet clothes. Ana sighed as she dried herself with a soft cotton towel. She slipped on a gown that fit her—crimson, in a neat, simple cut. She dried her hair as best as she could, running her fingers through the snarls to smooth them so she wouldn’t look too out of place. And, as she waited for Ramson to finish changing, Ana finally let herself touch a hand to the cream-colored walls. This was real. She was home again.
Ana drew a deep breath. When she reopened her eyes, it felt as though she had shed the skin of the lost girl who hated herself and feared the world. She stood straighter, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin.
She was the Crown Princess of Cyrilia and the Blood Witch of Salskoff in one, and tonight, she would take back her empire.
“Kolst Pryntsessa.” Ramson stood by the door in a fresh navy-blue doublet, his hair still wet and tousled, curling at the nape of his neck. “Are you ready?”
The halls were blessedly empty when they stepped out, yet with each twist and turn of the path, Ana reached out farther with her Affinity, expecting at any moment to happen upon guards or servants or other guests.
As they turned to the corridor that led to the Grand Throneroom, Ana gave a soft gasp. She’d been so tense that she hadn’t paid attention to where they were going.
A grand hallway materialized before her as though from a dream, with sweeping marble balustrades and crystal chandeliers that cast the whole place in golden light. Pillars rose as high as the arched ceilings, statues of Deities and angels poised atop as though they had just alighted from the heavens. The Hall of Deities.
“Hello again, old friends.”
Ana and Ramson spun around. The voice had made Ana’s blood freeze even before she caught sight of the speaker.
Dressed in an immaculate suit of deep violet, a gold fountain pen glinting at his breast, a man stood beaming at them from ten paces away. It wasn’t until she heard Ramson’s sharp intake of breath and caught sight of the plant with the small bell-shaped flowers pinned to his lapel that she realized who it was.
Alaric Kerlan, the Head of the Order of the Lily, spread his hands in a magnanimous gesture.
“Ah, what spectacular company we have. The Princess and the con man.” Alaric Kerlan stood ten paces away from them, his smile stretching from ear to ear. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Ana crouched into a defensive stance, her Affinity flaring as she took in Kerlan and the three bodyguards at his back. One of them looked large enough to snap a person in two, his muscles bulging like the exaggerated proportions of a Deity. The others—a man and a woman—were neither large nor intimidating. Which meant they were likely Affinites. Their eyes latched on to Ana.
“Three against two,” Ramson said with a resigned sigh. “You do know how to fight fair, Alaric.”
Faster than a whip, Ramson flung his hand out, and a dagger flashed silver in the air. In the split second she had to process this, Ana hurled her Affinity at his target—the woman—and held her in place. The woman barely had time to widen her eyes in shock when Ramson’s dagger struck her squarely in the stomach.
The woman sank to her knees and fell forward, blood pooling onto the pristine marble floor beneath her.
A shout sounded nearby; Ana turned to see a squadron of Palace guards pouring in from the direction of the Grand Throneroom.
Kerlan looked up from the body of the woman. His expression was calm, but his eyes burned.
“Fortunately, I play dirty.” The cocky grin on Ramson’s face disappeared as he shouted, “Again, Ana!”
Ana was about to throw her Affinity forward when she felt that cold, impenetrable wall in her mind. Her Affinity snuffed out. Ramson’s knife clanged on the floor as Kerlan’s second Affinite leapt out of its path.
Ana turned, knowing already what she would see.
The Nandjian yaeger stood behind them, his eyes burning into hers. Sweat shone on his skin as he stepped forward and drew his sword.
Ana swore. To their left, palace guards advanced from the direction of the Grand Throneroom. To their right, the yaeger blocked the way out. And in front of them, Kerlan’s male Affinite flexed his arms. A nearby marble column tore from the wall with a great, reverberating crack. Behind him, Kerlan smiled.
“Ramson, my son,” Kerlan called. “I had hoped to save you for my own special treat. Give up the witch and save your own skin. It’s what you do best.”
Ana sank to her knees as the pressure on her mind increased from the yaeger’s power. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him advance, his heels clicking on the marble floor. From the other end of the hallway, the Palace guards drew closer, their swords flashing silver.
A shout cut through the air; Ramson knocked into her with such force that her breath caught. Pain burst through her shoulder as they slammed into the ground and skidded.
Ana looked up just in time to see a marble pillar smash onto the spot where they had been a heartbeat ago. Bits of chipped marble and rock exploded in all directions.