Blood Heir (Blood Heir Trilogy, #1)(113)

It was a fight between a sparrow and an eagle.

For a moment, Ramson thought of calling back to Linn with a Kemeiran blessing. But blessings and prayers were for the fainthearted, and Ramson had never believed in leaving your fate to the gods.

Besides, he would thank her in person after all of this.

Ramson turned and sprinted down the ruins of the Hall of Deities.





A stunned silence filled the Grand Throneroom. All around, expressions of confusion and shock were mirrored across the faces of Imperial Councilmembers and guests alike. Ana stared at Luka, struggling to process his words.

Only, instead of the sunken and gaunt shell of a man her brother had been a second before, Luka was sitting up straight, his face alight with triumph. And he was looking back at her. His grin widened to a full-on conspiratorial beam as he put a finger on his lips, and then, just for that moment, they were small children again, protecting each other from a world of cruelty. It was their act of defiance. Their secret.

The Throneroom burst into cacophony. Imperial Councilmembers stood in their seats, some leaning over the mahogany banister, calling out to Luka and Morganya, whose expression was frozen in a look of horror. The remaining guards at the dais appeared just as dazed as they raised their hands to placate the crowd.

We won.

The thought stunned Ana so much that she could only stare at the scene unraveling before her. Morganya would be tried for treason and murder; the poisons that would indict Morganya and the antidote that would save Luka’s life were in the apothecary’s wing.



The guards holding Ana looked just as uncertain; they shifted their stances, lowering their blades slightly from the now-heir to their empire.

Ana wrapped her Affinity around them and pushed. She straightened and stepped forward. The din quieted, and every pair of eyes in the room watched as she walked across the aisle to the dais.

A cry sliced through the air. “Stop her!” Morganya stood by the throne she only moments earlier was confident was hers. She had one hand clamped across the back as though she wanted to both protect it and to hide behind it. “Guards!”

“No!” Luka commanded. He was trying to stand, and it hurt Ana to see him struggle. “My sister is the heir to this empire, and she will be treated as thus.”

Morganya whirled to him. “Kolst Imperator,” she said. “I appreciate your love for your sister, but you cannot deny what she is! The Blood Witch of Salskoff!” She turned to the crowd. “Or were you not all there that day in the Vyntr’makt, when she slaughtered eight innocents out of her monstrous bloodlust?”

There were gasps around the room; a few guests and Councilmembers cried out.

“You’re right,” Ana said, and the entire room turned to watch her as she closed in on the throne, one step at a time. “I’ve done terrible things, and the world made sure to remind me of my monstrosity. But so have you, Morganya.” She slowed, facing her aunt across the dais. “Don’t you see? We’re the same. But someone once told me that our Affinities don’t define us. What defines us is how we choose to wield them.”



Luka’s eyes shone with pride.

“We both know this empire is broken. But we cannot fix it through fear or revenge.” Ana thought of Sadov’s words, of how they had carved themselves deep inside her. Of how she had grown to believe them, and to believe she was what the world told her she was. Monster. Deimhov. Her voice was a cracked whisper as she said, “Please, mamika. Choose to be good. We could help our people…together.”

For several moments, Morganya stood frozen, as though carved from stone. And then her eyes narrowed. Her voice echoed across the hall, calm and cold. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Anastacya.”

A strange pressure descended upon Ana’s body, locking her in place so that she couldn’t move. A darkness rolled across her mind like fog.

A flesh Affinite with control of the mind.

They were mirror images of each other, her and her mamika, Ana realized. Both born to gruesome Affinities. Both vilified by the world.

There is good and bad in everything.

Morganya had made her choice.

With all her strength and fury, Ana hurled her Affinity at Morganya.

Morganya’s lips parted in a cry. She stumbled and fell, clinging to her throne. Within the space of a second, she seemed to have transformed back into a broken, frightened girl. “Please,” she sobbed, and reached a shaking hand toward Luka.



“Guards!” Luka had pushed himself to his feet and was gripping his throne to hold himself upright. “Take Countess Morganya to the dungeons for questioning. As your Emperor, I order you to follow the orders of the Crown Heir. We will overturn this castle to find the evidence of the poison Morganya has been using.”

Chaos fell upon the Grand Throneroom as Councilmembers and guests began shouting over each other at the sudden turn of events. But Ana kept her gaze on the dais.

She alone caught the look Morganya gave Luka. It was a look that promised death.

Sudden fear gripped Ana. She knew, from some primal instinct in her gut, that something was about to go horribly, unfathomably wrong.

Ana burst into a sprint toward the dais. “Luka!” she shouted. She didn’t know why she was calling his name. She only knew that she had to get to him.

Her brother turned to her. His smile slipped when he caught her panicked expression.