Blood Heir. Amelie Wen Zhao
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was aware of May tugging at her cloak. She heard the gasps of the crowd as she finally let go of the nobleman’s blood and his body hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. Horrible wheezing sounds came from his mouth.
“Ana,” May shrieked. “We need to go, before—”
Someone screamed. As the Vyntr’makt erupted into panic, Ana realized that she had gone too far.
“May,” she gasped, and the child’s hand was in hers, and they were stumbling away from the collapsed nobleman and the pastry vendor.
Yet the crowd had grown oddly still, and the skin on Ana’s back pricked. It took her a moment to realize that a hush had fallen over the entire square. All the vendors and townspeople were gazing at a spot behind Ana with expressions of awe and anxiety.
Slowly, Ana turned. And looked into a squad of Cyrilian Imperial Patrols.
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