Blood Heir (Blood Heir Trilogy, #1)(64)

Ana was already running. She reached Ramson’s side at the same time as Yuri; together, they hauled Ramson and May off the stage and into the darkness behind the velvet curtains.





Backstage, the air was musty and the scent of sweat lingered. They stumbled through the sets of drapes and down the stage into a chamber, dimly lit by several torches in sconces. Dark corridors stretched out toward their left and right. The screams of the crowd seemed to come from a distant world, as though the thick drapes had partitioned them from the chaos and granted them this temporary sanctuary.

In the semidarkness, a small voice found her. “Ana?”

A sob welled up in Ana’s throat. “May,” she croaked. They both moved for each other at the same time, colliding with cries of relief. Ana held on tightly. “Your hair.” Tears burned her eyes. “It’s all sooty.”

May laughed and clasped Ana’s cheeks in her hands, tracing tears away with her small fingers. “It’s you. It’s really you.”

More tears spilled down Ana’s face. She chuckled, a wet, gargling sound, and pressed her forehead to May’s. “Of course it’s me. I would never leave you.”

Ahead, Yuri cleared his throat. A small flame danced in his palm, illuminating the corridor ahead. “This way.”



Ana clasped May’s hand, and they hurried after him. “Where are we going?”

“It’s the Revolution, Ana,” said May. Her eyes were bright. “Yuri’s a Redcloak—a rebel, for the Affinites. I met the other Redcloaks when I was brought here. We’re going to rescue them right now.”

Behind them, Ramson coughed loudly and stumbled to a sharp stop by the stone walls. Ana’s stomach clenched as he braced himself, one hand at his side where the arrow had grazed him. She could sense the blood seeping into the cloth of his tunic. “Ramson!”

“I’ll be fine,” he rasped. “Just our luck. Damn…Revolution.”

“The Whitecloaks have stood by for too long and done nothing, watching us as we suffer.” Yuri’s fists were clenched, and he spat the words. “It’s time we take matters into our own hands. We’re a reminder that their cloaks are not white, but red—stained with the blood of Affinites. We represent the flame of hope—”

“Man, now is not the time for poetics,” Ramson gritted out. “If we don’t get out of here, the only thing red will be your blood on a Whitecloak’s sword.”

“We need to leave,” Ana agreed, gripping May’s hand tightly. “Now.”

Yuri looked slightly put out, but it was May who spoke. “No,” she said, pulling her hand from Ana’s. “I won’t leave without the others.”

It was as though, in a week’s time, May had aged years.

May’s mouth was a firm line as she gazed back at Ana, but her eyes were pleading. “Yuri and Dyanna planned this, and they saved me. They’ve saved a lot of other Affinites. And I want to…I want to help, too.” May reached out again, taking Ana’s hands between her own. “Remember the girl who gave me a ptychy’moloko at the Vyntr’makt? I thought of her every day I was here.” Her voice trembled, but Ana heard a hint of steely determination beneath. “You saved me, Ana. And I wanted to help her, and others like her. I want…” May drew a deep breath, and her eyes were shining as she looked up. “I want the whole Empire, every single Affinite, to know how it feels to…to have hope.”



The spark in May’s eyes and the strength in her words stirred something in Ana’s chest.

Before she could say anything, a noise sounded down the corridor to their right. A rhythmic clacking that grew louder by the second.

Ramson swore. “Guards,” he whispered, heaving himself up. “You, Poet. Where are the Affinites?”

“Corridor on the left,” Yuri said quickly. “The room at the very end.” He reached into his pocket and took out a set of keys.

“I can get them.” May stepped forward and took the keys from Yuri. She turned to Ana, her eyes bright, the torches carving her small, solid shadow against a world of flickering flames. “Wait here, Ana.” And then she was gone, a slip of light swallowed by the darkness.

Ana gestured at Ramson. “Go with her. Yuri and I will stay here and fend off the guards.”

Ramson hesitated. “Don’t die,” he said.

“Don’t get kidnapped,” she replied.

She heard his raspy chuckle and hid a smile even as she turned to face the approaching footsteps.

She felt Yuri’s gaze burning into her back. “You’re alive,” he breathed, and she finally let herself look at him. His eyes were wide, as though he were drinking in the sight of her. “I…I don’t believe this.”



“And you,” Ana said. “You’re a…a rebel.”

The footsteps thundered, just around the corner. “Later?” Yuri said, tilting his head.

“Later,” she agreed, and raised her hands.

Six guards appeared, just as Ramson had predicted. Their eyes widened as the torchlight exploded at them in two columns of flames. Ana hung back, watching in awe as the once-scrawny boy advanced on the guards, flames erupting from his palms and curling on the narrow stone walls of the corridor.