Blood Heir (Blood Heir Trilogy, #1)(61)
Bogdan paced the stage, his voice booming across the crowded auditorium. Was it Ana’s imagination, or did a sheen of sweat coat the entertainer’s brow?
The Ice Queen had finished her performance; she stood at the side of the stage outside the glass, beaming at the crowd. She was the constant on a stage of rotating Affinites, their displays filling the arena with water and rocks and fire and all other elements imaginable.
Bogdan spread his arms. “Next up, mesyrs and meya damas, we have an earth Affinite.”
Every fiber in Ana’s body drew taut.
“She can coax life from nothing but mud; she can make your favorite flowers bloom brighter than the stars in the night sky!”
Onstage, the curtains parted. An assistant scurried out and placed a pot at the edge of the glass wall before ducking backstage.
From the darkness of the curtains, a silhouette emerged—and Ana’s world hissed into sharp focus. The Affinite shuffled forward in an oversized dark brown dress sewn with glittery red flowers, their stems curling around her body. Her shoulders were slumped, her outline smaller and bonier than Ana remembered, and her head was bent. Her lovely ocean eyes were hidden.
Ana fought down tears as May, barely half the size of the other Affinites that had appeared in the ring, stumbled onto the center of the stage. Titters started in the audience, and Bogdan gave an accommodating chuckle. “Come now, darling!” he boomed. “We haven’t got all day!”
May’s eyes were fixed upon a spot on the floor as she tried to quicken her pace. Her skirts twisted around her ankles; she stumbled and fell with a thud.
A small, distressed noise escaped Ana as the crowd jeered; she felt Ramson’s hand close around her arm. His eyes glinted. “All good things—” he whispered.
—come to those who wait.
Still, Ana’s rage coiled white-hot within her. She stretched her Affinity, brushing it hungrily over the blood of the crowd. How she wished to unleash her power unto these bastards—to let them feel pain and helplessness.
“She may be small, but she is extremely talented,” Bogdan boasted. “She can create rocks, and she can break them apart. She can manipulate them. And she has a special touch of life with anything growing from the earth. My honored guests, I present to you: Child of Earth!”
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Onstage, May crouched by the pot of dead flowers. Despite everything, the expression on her face was a mix of sorrow and hope as she stretched out her hands.
For a few moments, nothing seemed to happen. And then the crowd gave a collective gasp, pointing as a lovely green hue seeped up the stalks like ink. Red blossomed into the petals. In front of their very eyes, May was breathing life back into the plant. And Ana found herself leaning forward slightly.
The gasps of the crowd, the animal masks, the torches, and the blackstone glass faded, and there was just May. She sat in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by tall, snowcapped pines. Her hands were cupped around a single white daisy, wilted from the snow and locked in the hard, frozen ground. Her eyes were closed, and she hummed softly. Ana had watched as, slowly, the daisy unfurled, its petals uncurling to face the winter sun.
It had felt like watching a miracle.
The memory dissipated as the crowds in the Playpen broke into a smattering of applause. Onstage, the Ice Queen beamed.
Bogdan spread his arms. “The smallest ones are often the most underestimated and tend to be much stronger than we anticipate.” He paused theatrically, waving his hands. The rings on his fingers glittered.
“Now, does anyone have any requests for our talented Child of Earth?”
A cry immediately went up. “Have her grow a fruit tree!”
“Make her juggle rocks!”
“Ask her to make a statue from earth!”
And on and on it went, copperstones and silverstones and goldleaves clattering at Bogdan’s polished black shoes while May kept her head bowed. Nausea pounded at Ana’s stomach as wave after wave of jeering calls and mocking yells continued, and Bogdan shouted orders for May to comply with.
“Hey.” A pair of hazel eyes, a warm hand coming to rest gently but firmly on her shoulder. “It’ll all be over soon. She’ll be safe, with us.”
Ana looked down and realized that she had gripped the sleeve of his peacoat. She snatched her hand back.
Something caught her attention. Onstage, a leather sack the size of Bogdan’s head had landed. Gold coins spilled like guts across the Penmaster’s feet, glittering viciously in the firelight.
A hush fell across the crowd. Ramson straightened.
From somewhere near the stage, a clear tenor rang out. “Penmaster, I have a very special request to make—one that I believe the audience will very much enjoy!”
Bogdan stooped to pick up the bulging pouch of goldleaves, his mouth hanging open. Coins continued to spill like water from the overflowing bag.
“Well, mesyr,” Bogdan exclaimed, a slight breathlessness to his tone. “You have certainly shown your dedication to entertainment!”
Behind him, May had finally lifted her head and was watching with sharp intent. The Ice Queen’s beam looked frozen, forced. In the shadows of the wings, the pale-eyed broker observed with unimpassioned interest.
A feeling of foreboding descended upon Ana. She searched the crowd for the owner of the voice, panic low but rising within her. This was wrong. The amount of goldleaves offered up was enough to feed fifty families for an entire year. It was enough to buy a small dacha.