Blood Heir (Blood Heir Trilogy #1)(42)

“They have her!” Her voice rose hysterically. “They have May. The yaeger—he said they were going to lock her up—”

“Ana, stop!” His voice rang sharply in the empty temple chamber. The easy smile had slipped from Ramson’s face, and his hands were raised in a placating gesture. “Stop and think.”

A lump rose in her throat as she thought of May, standing alone in that empty square, fists clenched. You will not hurt her.

Tears burned behind her eyes. She had promised to protect May forever. “All right,” she said, and though her voice shook slightly, she steeled it. She was going to get May back. And she would do it Ramson’s way—by thinking through it thoroughly, and coming up with a plan and ten backup plans. “Sit.”

Ramson’s brows twitched, but he gave a seemingly good-natured shrug and sat across from her.

“You’re going to help me get her back, con man.”

“Me? Deities, who would have thought?”

“I’m not playing around. I don’t care if it isn’t part of our Trade. I saved you from whatever fate those bounty hunters had in mind for you. Since you speak so well in the language of bargaining, let me put it this way: you owe me, and you’re going to pay me back.”



“Since you think you speak so well in the language of bargaining, let me tell you this.” Ramson’s eyes had taken on a playful glint, and he leaned forward as he spoke. “If you hadn’t saved me, you would have lost your Trade and your precious alchemist.”

She would not be distracted by the taunts he threw her way. “I left you alone for thirty minutes and you were outsmarted by a bartender and two mercenaries.” Her mood perked slightly at the sullen look that flitted across his face. Ana leaned forward, mirroring his pose. They were barely an arm’s length from each other. “Why did they kidnap you? Who’s hunting you?”

“I told you. It’s the mark of an excellent crime lord to have many enemies.”

“It’s also the mark of an excellent crime lord to be able to defeat his enemies.” Ana leveled an even gaze on him. “You need me. You need my Affinity. I’m your Trade. And I’ll only uphold it if you help me.”

Ramson ran a hand through his hair. “If you want to save May, we may not make it in time to find your alchemist. Whose name and location I now have, by the way.”

He’d stolen the breath from her again. Yet Ana found herself leaning forward, reeled in by his line. “Where is he? Why won’t we make it?”

“The only way we can find him,” Ramson said, “is if we arrive in Novo Mynsk before the Fyrva’snezh. There’s an event that we should…attend.”



“Novo Mynsk,” she repeated breathlessly. “That’s where they’re taking May. They’re going to make her perform at a place called the Playpen.”

“Who told you?”

“The yaeger—the Whitecloak.”

“Ah,” Ramson said slowly. “That…complicates things quite a bit.”

“It doesn’t. Our destination is Novo Mynsk.”

Ramson sighed. “There is a name you should know. Alaric Kerlan. Remember it well.”

That name again. The Gray Bear’s Keep bartender had said it. He’d called him “Lord,” but there was something more alarming, something that hadn’t clicked until now—

“Alaric Kerlan,” she whispered. “You mean A. E. Kerlan? The founder of the Goldwater Trading Group?” It was a name most nobles in the Cyrilian Empire were familiar with. Ana had read entire tomes of Cyrilian history with the Goldwater Trading Group lauded as a turning point for Cyrilia’s modern economy. Yet for the greatest businessman in the Empire, A. E. Kerlan remained reclusive. The most anyone knew of him was that he was a nobody who had come from the gutters of Bregon and single-handedly built a thriving trading route between the then-run-down Goldwater Port and the rest of the world.

Caution flickered in Ramson’s eyes. “Yes,” he admitted, “but also the most powerful Affinite broker in the Empire.”

“What?” Her world tilted. Ana gripped her arm, nails digging into flesh. “You’re lying.” The words came out sharp as shards of glass.



The founder of the Goldwater Trading Group—the largest business corporation in the Cyrilian Empire—an Affinite broker?

“I assure you, there are plenty of times I’ve lied to you, but this is not one of them,” Ramson answered, deadpan.

Something in her was unraveling, her image of her empire crumbling into pieces and rearranging themselves into something sinister and strange and utterly unfamiliar. “How do you know?”

It sounded like such a na?ve question. Did everyone around her know?

Had Papa known?

“It’s my vocation to know things,” Ramson said. “Now, as I was saying, Kerlan is the complication to our plan.” He reached for her rucksack and fumbled through it, producing her map. With a flourish, he held it up and pointed. “Novo Mynsk is Kerlan’s territory. If May is being carted there, the broker must be under Kerlan’s Order. You say she’s going to perform at the Playpen? That is owned by Kerlan. And it just so happens that your alchemist is a close associate of his.”