Blood Heir (Blood Heir Trilogy #1)(66)

A sob choked Ana’s throat. “No,” she gasped. “We’re going to find her, May—May!” She cradled her friend’s head as her eyes fluttered. “Listen to me. Your ma-ma is waiting for you out there. Waiting to see you. We’re going to find her together, all right?”



“I don’t…I don’t want to go.” May fought for breath, tears drowning her eyes. “I want…to live.”

Ana scrabbled at May’s wound, desperately grasping at the blood and pushing it back. It leaked through her fingers and her Affinity. She’d never learned to use her power this way. For her entire life, she’d learned only to hurt and torture. She had never learned to heal.

A gut-wrenching scream tore from her throat. “I can’t,” she gasped. “Ramson—Yuri—someone! Help!”

“The Revolution.” May’s small fingers curled around Ana’s, tugging gently, insistently. “Promise me, Ana, you’ll make it better. For my ma-ma. For all the Affinites. And promise…you’ll find her.”

“I will, I will,” Ana sobbed. She would have promised anything in that moment to keep May talking for a little while longer. “I’ll do it, May, but I need you—”

The world spun, and May’s blood poured out like sand in an hourglass, time careening in a relentless blur toward that inevitable end.

“Dust and stars,” May whispered. She had started to shiver. “We are but dust and stars.”

“Please, May.” Ana couldn’t breathe. “Please. Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

May drew a long breath. “I’m always here, Ana,” she whispered, and closed her ocean eyes, her words fading like a whisper of wind. “You’ll find me in the stars.”





Ana clung to May, curling her own body around the child’s. Was there a word to describe grief so deep that it cleaved you apart, carved a hole inside of you and left you hollow?

Ana was dimly aware that the fighting had stopped, that the guards’ bodies littered the corridor before them. Several people had fanned out around her, watching her. Warm hands grasped her shoulders. A familiar voice called her name.

A hand cupped her cheek, lifting her chin. She found herself looking into Ramson’s eyes. The usual mirth had disappeared from them, leaving them a somber hazel. Gently, he brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering by her cheek. She could almost read his thoughts in the gesture. I’m sorry. The words trembled in the air between them.

“Ana.” Yuri’s voice was hollow. “I’m sorry.”

Ramson whirled and slammed Yuri against the wall. “You,” Ramson snarled, “have no right to be sorry.”

Yuri choked, his hands flying to Ramson’s wrist, but Ramson didn’t let go, and Yuri didn’t resist.

“If you hadn’t tried your little stunt, this would never have happened. You think a revolution is a game? You think making a big show in Kerlan’s backyard counts as impressive?” Ramson wrenched his hand free; Yuri staggered, rubbing his throat. “This isn’t a revolution. This is a massacre. And it’s about to get worse if we don’t get out of here right now.”



Ana barely registered the words; they were beyond her. Something had been torn from inside her, left a gaping wound in her that was raw and bleeding and numb. She was one step from the abyss, just as she had been almost a year ago. “Ramson,” she said.

Ramson started, and backed away from Yuri.

All around Ana, watching with expressions ranging from sorrow to fear, were Affinites. They ranged from children to grown men and women, from all over the world. They wore an assortment of glitzy, gaudy outfits still fresh from the night’s performances. She counted nine of them.

Nine Affinites. Nine lives in exchange for May’s. Was it worth it? How did one balance the significance of a life against another? Was there even a way to measure?

You don’t, Ana thought, placing a hand on May’s cheek. It was still warm.

Papa had once told her, after Mama’s death, that there were two types of grief. One was the type that crushed you, that broke your soul and shattered your heart, and left you an empty shell. The other was a grief that made you stronger. You rose from it, you sharpened it, and you carried it with you as a piece of your armor. And you made yourself better.

In that way, you never truly lost that person. You carried them with you.



Ana closed her eyes and burrowed her face in the crook of May’s neck. Tears slipped down her cheeks, sinking into May’s hair.

Promise me, Ana, you’ll make it better. For my ma-ma. For all the Affinites.

Ana drew another deep breath. The urgency to act, to move, sparked in her a smallest light in the dark. For the first time, she focused on the faces of the Affinites all around her, watching her silently. Waiting.

She pushed herself to her feet, cradling May’s body against her chest. Ana searched the chamber and met Yuri’s eyes; he looked down, guilt stamped onto his face as clearly as if it had been branded by a hot iron. “We need to take the tunnels out,” Ana said.

“Dyanna taught us to navigate the tunnels,” Yuri said, the sadness almost swallowing his voice. “She’s been working with the brokers for years, preparing for this moment. We have a safe house just outside of town.”