Blood Heir (Blood Heir Trilogy #1)(120)

“Do you really think that matters?” Ramson spoke suddenly, his anger a quiet undercurrent. “If Ana goes back now, she’ll be killed. Pardon me,” he added. “The Princess. The Heir. The Empress. Whatever you want to call her—it doesn’t matter. This is a coup, and Morganya has solidified her power already; the majority of the Cyrilian Court sides with her. We’ve been outmaneuvered. But there is one advantage we hold over her— everyone believes Ana is dead.”

He was right, Ana realized. This was a war that Ana could not win with brazenness and the strength of her Affinity. This was a long game, and Ana needed to outscheme, outwit, and outmaneuver Morganya.

Ana held a hand up, and the three men fell silent, their attention on her. “I must leave,” Ana said. “But I will not disappear. Morganya plans mass murder and a reign of terror. She must be stopped.” Yuri’s defiant face appeared in her mind’s eye, his hair as bright as fire. “I have a small group of allies in the south of the Empire. I will travel there and begin my campaign. I will gather support; I will gather an army. And once I am ready to prove to this empire—to this world—that I am worthy of being heir…I will return.”

Markov gave a slow nod. “How you have grown, Little Tigress,” he murmured.

“Kapitan, Lieutenant,” Ana continued. “If you support me, then I need you to stay here. If I am to win, and if I am to return, then I need allies close to my enemy. I need you to be my eyes and ears within the Palace, within the Imperial Court. Can you do that?”



Henryk gave her a sharp salute. There were tears in his eyes. “We will not fail you, Kolst Imperatorya.”

“You must go,” Markov said, and Ana could tell how much of an effort it took for him to say those words to her.

Ana met his eyes. “I will return, Kapitan,” she whispered. “And I will see you again.”

Guided by Henryk’s torchlight, they made their way to the secret passageway in the back of the dungeons. The narrow cell door stood ajar from their earlier entry.

Markov took Ana’s hand and squeezed. “Deys blesya ty, Kolst Imperatorya.”

“Deys blesya ty,” she replied.

A grating sound reverberated throughout the dungeons. With a grunt, Henryk straightened. The door to the passageway gaped from the wall, darkness beyond.

Ramson tapped two fingers to his forehead in a sharp salute and slipped in. Ana followed, placing a hand on the entrance to steady herself.

She glanced back. Markov and Henryk stood behind her, the torch flickering like a beacon in the darkness. Only one year ago, she had run through this door, afraid and alone and completely lost. Ahead of her lay darkness, uncertainty, and a long, long path she’d have to fight her way through. Behind was a crumbling empire, a people in peril, and a world divided.

Promise me.

Ana turned and slipped into the darkness that welcomed her like an old friend.





The stars had reeled a full cycle above her head, and the faintest edges of blue had begun to crown the horizon in the east. In the distance, the Salskoff Palace was barely visible beyond the white-tipped forest that stretched in all directions beneath the hills. It glowed a faint, predawn gold, thick tendrils of morning mist clinging to its spires and crenellated walls.

Ana exhaled, her breath fogging in the air before her. From their vantage point atop the hill, she could barely make out the curved back of the Kateryanna Bridge, linking the castle to the sleeping town below. Salskoff spread out under the watchful gaze of its Palace, the Tiger’s Tail winding protectively around it.

“Quite beautiful from up here, isn’t it?” By her side, Ramson wore a placid expression as he gazed at the sight before them. “I suppose that’s what it must look like to the gods, or Deities, or whatever. Who cares about the petty battles that humans fight? There’s a whole world out there for them to look at.”

“That’s why it’s up to us to fight our battles. Not the Deities.”

“That’s what I’ve always said. Gods, I should become a priest.”

A snort burst out from Ana. “You? A priest? It’s not the end of the world yet, Ramson.”



He shot her a grin, and Ana realized that, despite everything, Ramson had managed to make her laugh. “Then we should get moving, to stop the end of the world. If you really don’t want to see me become a priest.”

Ana glanced back at her home. A weight seemed to settle on her shoulders again. For so long, she’d been trying to make a life in a place that had not been a home for a while. And for so long, it had remained distant yet visible, close yet just out of reach. Her heart was heavy as she steeled herself for the inevitable.

Ramson clasped a hand over hers. He tilted her chin with a finger so that she was gazing into his warm, clear eyes. “Have courage, Princess.”

She shut her eyes briefly, leaning into his light touch. “I’m afraid, Ramson. I feel like I’ve been fighting for so long, and yet…I’m back where I started.”

“That’s life,” he said quietly. “This isn’t one of the fairy-tale stories you read in your childhood, where the hero always wins in the end. You’ll have many battles to fight, and you won’t win them all. And at the end of every single day, you’ll always face the same choice: keep fighting, or give up.”