Blood Heir (Blood Heir Trilogy #1)(70)
The light of the stars fell around her like tears.
“I unsee you, Little Tigress.”
Ana spun at the voice. Outlined by a single flickering lantern was Shama?ra. “What did you call me?” Ana whispered.
Instead of responding, Shama?ra crossed the garden in a newly donned pair of woven shoes, holding a silver tray carrying a samovar and a lamp. She gently placed both items on the ground before seating herself. The lamp shone a warm light over the earth that held May.
“It’s been a long day,” Shama?ra said, and proceeded to pour steaming tea from the samovar into two curved glass teacups. A small glass bowl in the center of the tray held sugar cubes. “Nandjians—we have tea for every occasion.”
Ana took the teacup with a murmur of thanks. The cup warmed her hands and was nested in a metal holder patterned in silver medallions.
“You’re not the only one who’s lost people in this silent war we’ve been waging,” the woman said after she had taken a long sip from her glass. “I lost my son to the Affinite trade many years ago, and I’ve been searching for him ever since. Twelve years, and I’ve never given up. Why the hell do you think I’m still in this rotten empire, entertaining Cyrilians with fortune-telling from tea dregs and poetry? Who in their gods-damned mind would shelter rebels leading a revolution that I may never see happen?” Shama?ra’s eyes burned. “Few in this world are born to pure happiness and a life of comfort. The gods know that’s not what life is about. No, Little Tigress—we take what we are given and we fight like hell to make it better.”
Shama?ra’s words blazed in the air between them long after she was silent. The tears on Ana’s face had cooled and, ashamed, she turned away and swept a quick hand over her cheeks. Her thoughts focused on two words. Little Tigress.
It was the nickname Mama had given her. “Why do you call me that?” she said quietly.
“I know who you are.” Shama?ra’s voice had the silent strength of steel. “I saw the events of that day, at the Vyntr’makt in Salskoff. The Sister showed me; she whispered to me of a great fire inside you, and a grand destiny.”
Ana summoned the courage to meet the woman’s gaze. “Who are you?”
“I am an Unseer, my darling.” Shama?ra’s smile was charming yet dangerous beneath her shawl. “There is a myriad of faiths practiced in Nandji, but my particular beliefs also lend to a form of magic. A…branch of what you Cyrilians call ‘Affinities,’ I suppose. We believe in a divine Spirit, split into two halves between a Brother and a Sister.” She held up the lamp. “The Brother, the Lord of Light and Lender of Fire, rules over all that is visible to the eye and physical in this world. And the Sister”—Shama?ra set down the lamp—“is the Deity of Darkness and the First Unseeress, goddess to all things metaphysical and spiritual. My Affinity is to her; specifically, to time—both what’s past, and what’s to come.”
Ana frowned. “You can…change time?” It felt ridiculous to say.
“No, my child. But I can catch glimpses of it, as one might dip a finger into a grand, sweeping river.” Shama?ra put a hand to her heart. “I unsee, Anastacya.”
“Then can’t you unsee your son?” It felt too easy, too unfair; it felt like false hope, all over again. “Can’t you find him?”
And, she thought, ashamed to say it, can you unsee where I’m meant to go from here?
Shama?ra laughed. “I cannot unsee without seeing first. Without you in front of me, I would unsee nothing.” Her smile turned sad. “Without my son before me, I cannot unsee his path.”
“Then you are as cursed as I,” Ana said, “with your Affinity.”
“All Affinities are a double-edged sword. One must simply learn to wield it.” There was a brief silence as Shama?ra lifted her cup to her lips. “Drink your tea. It’ll get cold.”
Ana took a sip; she thought she tasted roses. “Can you tell me where to go from here?” The question stole from her lips in the barest breath.
Shama?ra set down her cup with a gentle clink. Lifting the samovar, she poured herself more, and offered to refill Ana’s cup. “That’s the funny thing about time, my child. It is a great river, made of an infinite number of little streams. It is your choices that define your path.”
Your choices. The words stirred a gentle breeze around Ana. Your Affinity does not define you.
But no matter how she wished her Affinity gone or even just different, she was an Affinite. Us, May had whispered, back in the Kyrov Vyntr’makt and at the Playpen. Like us.
May and countless other Affinites were all victims of cracks in her empire. Ana would fight her way back to Luka’s side with Pyetr Tetsyev’s confession. She would end the Affinite trade.
Promise me.
She and Luka would fix it all, together. Crack by crack.
Ana drew a deep breath, filling her lungs with the refreshingly cold Cyrilian air. Overhead, the clouds had parted, and stars twinkled in the vast canvas of the moonless night. The scent of snowfall lingered in the air. Snow was coming, and soon. “It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Shama?ra.”
Shama?ra’s chuckle was like the sound of metal grating. “I have a feeling this is not the end for us. Our paths will cross again, Little Tigress.” She placed a hand on Ana’s shoulder. “Now, my darling, the Sister tells me there is someone waiting for you in the back room. Someone you, too, wish to see.”