Burning Glass (14 page)

Sitting up taller, I swallowed hard against my emotions and searched for a safe subject to embark upon. “I, um, haven’t ascertained any serious threats from the nobles,” I began, launching awkwardly into my report of duty. “I did wonder for a moment about Councilor Ilyin this afternoon—he seemed relentless about your mother’s poisoning. But I believe he’s harmless—irritable above all else.” I twisted my fingers in my lap, not sure what else to add. Was I to give a day-by-day account of all the noble lords? “Do you wish to know more?”

He grinned like I wasn’t fooling him with my show of unaffectedness. “Not really. I trust you would tell me if any true malice had been detected.” He shifted closer so his knees bent toward me. “When did you first discover you were an Auraseer?”

I blinked twice. “Pardon?”

He laughed, and with the brightening of his mood came a feeling of weightlessness. “Forgive me if I have no further desire to discuss the thinly veiled malice of the people at court. I know that’s why I summoned you here tonight, but . . . well, suddenly I’m more curious about you.” Valko shifted onto his side to make himself more comfortable on his cushion.

I studied his aura for sincerity. His curiosity must have been authentic, for I found myself leaning back into my own pillow. “I was five years old when my gift manifested beyond doubt,” I said. “I awoke in the night to alert my parents of a thief who had yet to cross our fields or break into our home.”

Valko lifted his brows. “Fascinating.”

I gave a little shrug, though my heart panged with loss. The story was factual, but I couldn’t remember it firsthand. I couldn’t even remember my parents’ faces or the image of my home beyond a vague memory of skipping across flagstones in our yard. The Romska were the ones to relay the story. They told it to me as I’d once told them.

“Such a gift.” The emperor shook his head. “I’ve often wondered why the gods chose not to grant it to the heirs of the Riaznian throne.” Scores of candles on the table, tall stands, and ledges around the room cast his face in full light and made no space for shadow.

“Perhaps the gods knew that too much greatness would not be a blessing,” I ventured.

“Do you call your gift a curse?”

“Often.”

He laughed again and tossed his head back, giving his whole self to the mirth. It warmed me and brought a smile to my lips. Since arriving in Torchev, I’d only felt this easy with Pia.

“I like you, Sonya Petrova,” he said. “I hope we share many long years together.”

My heart beat stronger. “As do I. I’m determined to even outlive Izolda.”

Valko pulled a face. “Just promise you won’t go bug-eyed, mumble incessantly, and smell of rye vinegar.”

My smile broadened. “As long as I’m permitted to sprout whiskers on my chin, I won’t complain.”

He burst out with more laughter. Heat flooded my cheeks,
not from embarrassment, but in flattery that he liked my joke. A twinge of guilt pricked me that it came at the expense of my executed predecessor, but that was the wonderful thing about Valko—even something inappropriate felt amusing with him, the way it did when Yuliya and I had made fun of Nadia while she was sleeping.

His gaze followed my hand to where my fingers idly brushed a frayed thread of my robe. He scooted closer and took up the panel to examine the tattered seam.

“I tore out the fur lining,” I confided, seeing the question form on his mouth.

“And, for this, you touched death?”

I nodded, slightly flustered. “I didn’t want you to see me in only my nightdress. At least by wearing my robe, I could show you respect.” Not exactly the truth, but it seemed to satisfy him. I sank deeper into my cushions, the smoke beneath the samovar lulling my body backward. I never imagined I could feel so tranquil in the emperor’s presence.

Valko’s rested his chin on his hand. “I shall commission new robes for you, Sonya. I want Estengarde to herald you in your full regality, and that doesn’t require fur.”

My limbs tingled with warmth. “Thank you. Are we going to Estengarde?” Traveling with the emperor through the mountain pass would have seemed a daunting affair an hour ago, especially since it meant arriving in a country Riaznin had an on-and-off-again alliance with. But now the prospect infected me with wanderlust.

“No,” he replied, “Estengarde is coming here. At least, an emissary will make the journey after he reads my missive.” Valko tapped a sealed letter on the table. “Anton thinks he’s so clever with his yawning talk of rations and reinforcements, but I have a far better solution.”

A giddy eagerness bubbled inside me. “What is it?”

“Marriage, Sonya. I’m going to propose to Madame Delphine Valois, the king’s favored niece.”

“That’s wonderful!” I replied, his enthusiasm contagious. I adored weddings.

“Soon the snows will melt, and the emissary can cross the mountains to Torchev so we can discuss the dowry, the politics, and all the arrangements. Delphine and I will marry in the spring.”

I sighed. I adored springtime.

Valko’s smile sobered. His hand moved to stroke a lock of my hair, which had fallen across his pillow. “You’re very beautiful, Sonya.”

My breath hitched. Caution danced around the edges of my mind.

“I hope I can say that without offending you,” he added.

His calm assuredness eased every nerve in my body. Any whisper of caution flitted away. “Of course.” I curled onto my side so I was nearer to him. I felt safe enough to fall asleep on these pillows. Some yearning within me made me inch even closer. He didn’t shun from the dark parts of me; he gravitated to them. He accepted all of me. The moments slid by as I let
myself gaze at him. His eyes were twin pools of gray-blue water. They invited me. I could almost feel their cooling rush.

Another nudge forward, and our faces were almost touching. His breath was sweet, like currant tea. I pitied him that he must give over another portion of his life to his country by forming the alliance with Estengarde, especially since his heart didn’t seem to be in it.

He tentatively reached up to trace the skin beneath my lower lip. His face, bathed in warm candlelight, appeared so handsome, so open. It tore at my heart. If I kissed him, just once, it might be a kindness, a gift from one friend to another before he married.

The fragrance wafting from the fir cones made my lashes flutter. My aura pulsed with Valko’s in perfect synchronicity. I shared his aching desire, the urge to indulge in what we secretly wanted when so much of our feelings were restricted by our lives.

That longing within me—within him—built into a desperate need. It strung taut along my every muscle and pleaded for release. Unable to contain it a moment longer, I leaned into the emperor and closed the small distance to his mouth.

He shut his eyes and parted his lips. Our mouths pressed together. A gasp of pleasure escaped me. He kissed me with more fervor. I coiled my arms around him and worked my fingers up his neck. His hands slid inside the folds of my robe to encircle the waist of my nightgown. His aura flared to life in a shower of dark and wondrous feeling. My entire body shivered with it. I kissed him deeper, abandoning all thought, all
restraint, making room for only this powerful craving within both of us. It was exhilarating to surrender to inhibition, to not be tormented by self-reproach and shame and propriety for the first time since the convent fire. I could lose myself completely to Valko. Escape the guilty remembrance of who I was. Or better yet,
accept
myself. For perhaps this uninhibited version of me
was
me—someone I’d suppressed for far too long.

Three knocks sounded in my mind. I cast them away, but they persisted, echoing back a pattern.
Three knocks and a beat of silence. Three knocks and a beat of silence.

It was a signal. A signal I must give someone.

Why?

Valko’s kiss didn’t break. I didn’t want it to. Something in me might shatter. I feared for that to happen. I wouldn’t think of the destruction I always left in my wake when I unleashed the full throes of wildness within me. I refused to fight my true nature any longer.

Three knocks.

I cupped the back of Valko’s head and drew our bodies closer.

Rap, rap, rap.

He shifted abruptly and pulled me on top of him. The recklessness I succumbed to felt like freedom. From a life of hiding. From the empire itself.

Rap, rap, rap.

But Valko
was
the empire. He dictated the laws, laws that governed Auraseers, which made it legal to own us. Laws that
caused my parents to give me up and made me lose everything I’d known so I might
gain
something better, some piece of myself no one else would be able to master.

A rushing hiss sounded and mingled with the shrill call of a whistle. My eyes flew open to see the samovar venting steam.

At once my nerves fired. My mind cleared. I pulled away from Valko, lips burning, gut twisting. Three knocks. Anton’s door. I felt sick inside.

I couldn’t lose myself to Valko, even now as the prospect of escaping my own dark reality dangled within reach and formed a temptation so fierce it stole my breath and made my body tremble with need. How could I lose myself when doing so had created my darkness to begin with? My unrestrained empathy for the peasants had led me to destroy a convent of Auraseers.

“Thank you, My Lord Emperor,” I said, carefully peeling myself away as I rose to my feet. His hair was on end, making him appear boyish. I ached to comfort that lonely boy. “I wish you happiness in your forthcoming marriage.”

He sat upright. “Don’t leave, Sonya.” His gaze adeptly searched the room and fell on the samovar. “Have a cup of tea with me.”

I shook my head and backed away. “I must rise early. I need my sleep to better serve you. I do not take my duty lightly.”

“Just one cup.”

“Good night.” I curtsied and rushed from the room, even after I heard him call, “Wait!”

I ran down the corridor and closed the panels of my robe.
Tears pricked my eyes. I slowed, reaching my door, then tracked back to Anton’s. I pressed my forehead to the wood, my palms to the carvings. How long had he been waiting? How long had Valko held me in his embrace?

I knocked three times, then startled when the door immediately opened. Anton still hadn’t removed his boots, though his shirt was untucked and his hair more disheveled.

Not expecting to see him, I mumbled, “You were supposed to knock back.” It was better than saying,
I’m a weak fool with a weak heart and a completely backward Auraseer.

He studied me, his mouth hard and unyielding as his gaze traveled over my tangled hair and wrinkled robe. “Are you all right? What happened?”

“Nothing.” I smiled, but a tear betrayed me and streaked down my face.

His brows drew together. “Did he hurt you?”

“No.” I wiped my nose. “No, of course not.” Anton waited, knowing there was more. I touched my lips with a trembling hand. “We kissed is all. I don’t know how it happened.”

He released a portion of a sigh. I was so distraught I couldn’t sense if it held relief or disappointment.

“I’m sorry.” Another tear fell. Why was I crying? Why did I seek so desperately to please the prince? What did it matter what he thought of me? I would only ever let him down and bring shame to myself. I could never measure up to him.

He tilted his head. “I daresay my brother wanted more than a kiss.”

“Yes.” I brushed under my eyes, but the tears were relentless. I didn’t confess I was the one to kiss Valko in the first place.

“But you stopped his advances, didn’t you?”

I breathed in and out and nodded.

A hint of a reassuring smile graced his mouth. “Then I believe you fared remarkably. You have no need to be sorry.”

I stared at Anton, unsure if I’d heard him correctly.

He touched my arm. Warmth flowered in my belly. “Rest well, Sonya.” His hand lingered a moment before he drew it away. He shut the door before I could also wish him good night.

I stumbled back to my room in a daze, so unraveled that I climbed inside the horrid box bed, too exhausted to sleep on the floor. I set my hand in Izolda’s clawed trenches, ready to make them deeper, when Anton’s words echoed in my mind:
You fared remarkably.

I withdrew my hand and let sleep overtake me.

P
IA DIDN’T COME WITH MY TEA TRAY THE FOLLOW
ING MORNING
. When I inquired after her, Lenka told me she was being punished for having been tardy to the kitchens. Cook was making her clean out the second fireplace. Though I missed my friend’s company and felt sorry for the menial task she’d been assigned, I was more relieved I wouldn’t have to give her an account just yet of what had transpired between me and the prince last night, not to mention the emperor.

I wasn’t summoned for duty until dinner that evening. Valko was entertaining diplomats from Shengli and Abdara in the great hall. I tried to expand my awareness to the foreigners, to deduce any malevolent emotions they might be harboring, but all my energy kept straying to Valko.

He sat with his councilors at his raised table on the dais, his gaze often returning to me. I fiddled with the hem of my sleeve as I analyzed every measure of his aura. Did this heightened
feeling within me mean he was just as nervous as I was to be in the same room together? Or was this eagerness? I touched my neck and swallowed. Perhaps all these internal fluctuations were simply my own embarrassment for forgetting myself last night. How difficult had I made it for the emperor to now treat me as merely his sovereign Auraseer?

I cast my eyes to the empty chair at the left end of the emperor’s table. Anton never showed up to the dinner. Had the prince thought twice about the kiss I gave his brother? Was he angry with me, too?

After the last course of the meal, when the guests stood to mingle, Valko remained seated in his chair. He motioned me to him. My heart thudded as I ascended the dais. I curtsied, then knelt at his feet so I wouldn’t stand taller than him. “My Lord Emperor,” I said, remembering Tola and Dasha. I hoped I hadn’t lost his favor.

He twisted a ring on his finger. “What is the sentiment of the diplomats tonight?”

I glanced at the two men—the Shenglin in his silk robes with the insignia of the emerald dragon and the Abdaran in his turban and curl-toed shoes—and chastised myself for not having paid better attention to their auras. Now as close as I was to Valko and with my natural affinity toward him, I couldn’t sense a thing from the diplomats. “They’re, um . . . doing well. They’re satisfied with the fine meal you gave them and seem eager to watch the bear dancers.”

Valko nodded, thankfully accepting the pitiful report I
fabricated on the spot. “I’d like to keep them comfortable for as long as possible. They won’t be happy when they discover I’m arranging a marriage alliance with Estengarde.”

“Of course, Your Imperial Majesty. I’ll let you know when that happens.”

His gaze swept over my face, and his eyes warmed in the candlelight. “Did you sleep well last night, Sonya?”

“Yes.” I didn’t mean to whisper, but my breath caged in my chest.

His lips curved. “I’m glad to hear it.”

A silence descended upon us and overflowed with heated energy. The kiss we had shared occupied all my thoughts. I remembered the taste of currant tea on his mouth, the sweet aroma of the smoking fir cones beneath his samovar. I had a sudden yearning to be alone with him.

“Will you sit beside me while the dancers perform?” Valko asked. “I want—”

“Yes,” my whispered answer tumbled out of me.

His grin deepened, and he finished his sentence. “I want you to keep me apprised of the diplomats’ auras.”

“Yes,” I said again, feeling my cheeks warm.

I remained with him until the dancers came. Some wore bearskins and others were dressed like hunters. When the music began, I settled into my position at the emperor’s feet. As the dance intensified—when the eyes of the courtiers and diplomats were on the hunters as they prodded the bears with spears, as they leapt over the animals to the beat of the drums
and frenzied strings—Valko’s hand met the nape of my neck. He softly traced the scooped edge of my gown and the ridge of my spine. I exhaled against a swirl of light-headedness and curled my fingers in my lap.

Too soon the dance ended, and the emperor’s touch withdrew. He stood and clapped while the hunters bowed over their slaughtered prey. Without sharing any more words with me, Valko left the dais for the company of the diplomats. For a long while I sat at the foot of his empty chair, still shivering with a flurry of emotion as I struggled to understand my own feelings. Did they belong to me, or was my racing heartbeat still latched on to the emperor’s aura, to his newfound attraction to the sovereign Auraseer? He never did ask me again about the diplomats. It was just as well. I wouldn’t have been able to answer him.

I didn’t retire to my rooms after the festivities ended. I took an apple off a banquet table and wandered outside to the palace stables. The air was cool enough to frost my breath, but not turn my bones to ice. The season trembled in that tentative place between winter and spring.

I walked past stall after stall, admiring the horses, until I stopped at the gate of a beautiful white mare with a star-shaped patch of auburn on her brow. “Hello, Raina,” I said, holding out the apple.

She nickered and walked forward, chomping away at my offering. I stroked her mane with my free hand. “I’ve missed you,” I said, and brushed my nose against her coat. Her aura
was peaceful. I closed my eyes and tried to trap in her smell, her graceful strength.

My thoughts, which had been so tangled up with Valko, turned to Anton. I felt the remembrance of his hands on my waist when we rode this very horse from the city square to the palace. I heard the prince’s voice, soothing me, asking me to think of him so I wouldn’t be overwhelmed by the masses.
You fared remarkably
, he had told me last night.

Raina ate the last of the apple. I wrapped both of my arms around her neck and tucked closer into her warmth. I wanted to stay here all night in the safety of her uncomplicated affection.

A rumble of low voices made my body jolt. Raina jerked back. She heaved a loud breath and stomped her hoof. “It’s all right, girl,” I whispered, and smoothed her coat with my hand. As the mare settled down, I perked up my ears.

“Feliks is making all the arrangements for him to come,” said the deep voice of a man. Accompanying him was the clip-clop of at least one other horse. “How was your visit with Nicolai? Is he still committed?”

A second, slightly higher male voice answered, “He thinks he can persuade Duke Krayev.”

As they spoke, I tiptoed to the exit of the stable. The voices were nearer now, though they still spoke in a hush. I reached out for their auras, but there was a delay. I’d attached myself too strongly to Raina.

A burst of laughter rang out from a different direction. I peered out of the stables. In the moonlight, a group of guards
advanced toward the servants’ entrance to the palace.

“Go and join them when they enter,” the first man said in an attempt to whisper, though the low pitch of his voice rumbled with too much resonance to be quiet. I couldn’t make out either of their faces from where they stood in the stable’s shadow. “I’ll take care of the horses.”

As the shorter man handed over his reins, I retreated back inside and crawled under the gate of the nearest stall. “Shhh.” I patted a brown stallion.

Into the stable, leading two horses, came Anton. A gasp escaped my mouth, but he didn’t hear me. Crouching back against the hay, I kept to a dark corner of the stall. It wasn’t until several minutes later, after the prince had untacked the horses and left, that I came to my senses.

What was the matter with me? Why had I felt compelled to hide? Had Anton’s impulse to be secretive persuaded me, or was I trying to protect him? I sensed whatever he was doing was something he didn’t wish his brother to know about. I was Sovereign Auraseer. The prince knew my duty was to the emperor.

I thought back on the conversation I’d just overheard. Anton mentioned someone named Feliks, a name I now remembered as belonging to a man with piercing blue eyes, the same man Anton had given over the care of the troika to in the city square. But who was Nicolai, and what did Anton mean when he’d asked if that man was still committed?

Did any of this have to do with the letter Anton had been given from another mysterious man, the man with the amethyst
ring?
Midnight
and
Morva’s Eve
were the only words I’d seen on that letter. Morva’s Eve was still weeks away. What was Anton planning?

I waited until the servants’ door to the palace thumped shut as the prince entered, then I hitched up my gown and ran around to the main entrance. When the guards stationed on the porch lifted their brows at me, I said, “Just taking a stroll in the gardens.”
A late-night stroll
with no coat in the cold.
Sheepishly grinning at them, I rushed inside, past the amber lobby, and up one of the four twirling staircases as I tried to beat Anton to the third floor.

I succeeded. He entered one minute after I did. There was just enough time for me to catch my breath and pull a stray bit of hay from my hair. My heart, however, pounded like I’d run the length of Torchev. I put my hand on the latch of my door, so it seemed like I was on the verge of going inside my rooms. I wanted this meeting to appear coincidental. I needed a natural way to bump into the prince. We’d had another fresh start for a hopeful friendship last night. Perhaps he would come to trust me and confide his secrets.

Anton came nearer down the corridor, then froze when he noticed me there. The prince’s nose was pink from the cold, and he had his hand on the clasp of his cape, as if making ready to unfasten it. My chest panged with a flicker of hope.

I let go of my door latch and broke into a wide smile. “Good evening, Anton.” All my nerve ends tingled from his close proximity. I flexed my fingers.

He slowly approached me, still fidgeting with his clasp like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Just as I felt the promise of being able to sort out his feelings, part of him folded into himself with that same secrecy from the stables.

I bit my lip in frustration. How was he able to conceal his emotions like that from me—
me
, who should be able to read anyone? Then again, I could scarcely interpret my own aura, let alone how anyone else’s might be distinguished from it. As for what little I
could
sense from Anton, he felt nervous, as if anticipating my rebuke for some reason I couldn’t determine. Or was this
my
nervousness,
my
anticipation?

“How are you?” I asked. “I expected to see you at dinner tonight.”

He parted his lips. A door creaked open. I whirled around to see two guards emerge from the room beside the emperor’s. When I turned back to the prince, a change had come over his face. His features took on a stonelike but intensely focused appearance. My chest expanded with his as he inhaled a long and steadying breath. With it, his aura shut tight and entombed all of himself. My head prickled with a sensation between calmness and numbness as the excess oxygen flowed through my body.

Anton picked up his pace and walked past me without uttering a word.

I blinked in stunned amazement. What had just happened? Had he used a breathing trick to distract me? He must’ve known if he calmed his emotions, I could not read them. I watched
him as he nodded at the guards, who strode by in the opposite direction. Maintaining his distanced aura and intense focus, Anton entered his room and never again glanced my way.

I slumped back against the wall, overcome with hurt and rejection. I was used to Anton pretending not to see me from across a long room, but I thought after last night something had changed between us, that he might actually care about me. I never imagined he’d resort to some form of meditation to keep me—and the prying person I innately was—well away. But of course he did. I could count on one hand those in my life who had wanted me in their association.

I closed my eyes and rubbed an ache in my brow. What a fool I must have just appeared, beaming at the prince like he were a long-lost friend I hadn’t seen in months, like he were Tosya, journeying here from the Romska camps just to wish me a midnight hello.

I kicked open my door and slammed it closed behind me. I paced back and forth in my antechamber and balled my hands into fists. How many times would I put myself through this—through believing Anton would ever see me as more than someone he was duty-bound to help, when the fleeting moments arose? He would never go out of his way to greet me or give me a smile. He didn’t need me, nor would he ever confide in me. We would never be true friends.

I slowed my steps, and my hand spread across my breastbone. Was that all I wanted from him, to be friends?

Was that all I wanted from Valko?

At least with the emperor I felt wanted and valued and good enough, like he desired my friendship as well.

With a groan of frustration, I ran my fingers through my hair. From across my open bedchamber, the wooden figurine of Feya stared back at me from her perch on the windowsill. I didn’t want to think anymore. I didn’t want to attempt to interpret what I was feeling. I swallowed hard, strode into the room, and gripped the base of the goddess with the spatter of Yuliya’s blood.

The next morning was the second in a row that Pia hadn’t brought me my breakfast tray. Lenka wasn’t sure what my friend had done this time, only that it must be another punishment “for slacking in her duty.”

Since the emperor didn’t require me until the council meeting this afternoon, I hurried to the library, fetched three books of fairy tales—including my favorite story of the Armless Maiden—and made my way to the kitchens. The tiles were littered with chicken feathers, and the wooden table slabs dripped with pig’s blood. Pia was nowhere to be seen. I stepped carefully through the room and flinched when the butcher chopped into a leg of raw meat and red flecks splashed the air.

“Have you seen Pia?” I asked a little boy plucking a chicken. The bird’s wrung neck hung limply from its body. I kept my distance.

The boy looked up at me. His eyes widened to see the sovereign Auraseer. “Milking the cows,” he replied, and blew a
feather off his sticky mouth as he shot a glance at Cook. “Pia got caught filching a pie last night,” he whispered.