Burning Glass (25 page)

He’s becoming a monster.
And he thanks me for it.

I kept my lips sealed together. I dared not say more because he didn’t listen. Everything I spoke he twisted, until it fit his corrupt vision of glory.

And so I sat and bided my time. I didn’t pretend to share so much as a spark of his enthusiasm, for I had none. It wouldn’t have mattered if I did. Valko was so caught up in himself and his ramblings of a greater empire that he no longer sought out my encouragement—or whatever his reason was for desiring my company today. He hadn’t even apologized for hurting me the night of the ball.

I didn’t realize until now that I’d clung to a small shred of
hope he might be sorry, that he might revert back to the charming boy whose touch had so often made my blood quicken.

I would never waste my hope on him again.

I knocked on the midnight-blue door that night. Anton opened it. “Your brother is mad,” I said.

He nodded, his eyes lowering to the volume of Tosya’s poetry in my arms. “Did you finish the book?”

“Yes.”

“Come in.”

A
NTON DREW TWO CHAIRS NEAR HIS TILED FUR
NACE.
S
PRINGTIME
in Riaznin was lovely enough during the daytime, but the cold still bit at night. I traced the gilded lettering of Tosya’s book while the prince tended to a copper samovar, which whistled with uncanny timing. He poured two servings for us in glasses lodged inside pewter casings, not delicate Shenglin porcelain like the emperor used. The aroma of briar tea filled the air.

“Jam?” Anton asked. I nodded and watched him spoon something of the rose leaf variety into my glass. In his own, he tipped a dash of rum. Perhaps he needed something to settle his nerves—perhaps some of the anxiety dancing through my veins belonged to him. This was going to be a night of answers. I felt it. My mind whirred with what they might be.

He set the tea glasses on a small mahogany table between our chairs. The wood matched the other varnished furnishings in the room and complemented the earthy colors of the
upholstery, bedding, and curtains. Several candles were lit. Again, I wondered if he’d anticipated my visit, if he knew, somehow, enough time had passed for me to finish the book and be ready for him.

My gaze drifted over his clothing—a loose shirt tucked into breeches and tall black boots. The only time I’d caught him wearing less was the night he’d just finished bathing. I began to wonder if he slept wearing those boots. I twirled the soft ends of corded belting on my night robe. Perhaps he slept wearing nothing at all.

Blood warmed my cheeks and I took a sip of tea, but the hot liquid only made my blush bond to my skin. The wood crackled behind the grate of the furnace. It was altogether too stifling in here.

“Are you all right?” Anton brought his glass to his mouth. The tea made his lips glisten.

I stood and looked away. “Yes,” I answered a little breathlessly, then shook my head. “That is, no. Valko—I mean, His Imperial Majesty—was quite impossible today.”

Anton stilled. “What has he done to you?”

Fire raced up my spine at the prince’s altered mood. I eyed him. He must be imagining the worst—me swept up in another violent fit of his brother’s passion. “Nothing like that, I assure you. He was gentlemanly enough.”

Anton’s scowl told me he doubted it.

I smoothed my robe. “The night of the ball I was able to comfort Valko in the loss of his alliance. When he stayed locked
in his rooms these past days, I thought . . .” I shrugged, realizing how mistaken I’d been. “I thought it was over . . . that he’d humbled himself and seen the error of his ways.”

The prince looked down and thumbed the rim of his glass. “But my brother’s thirst for power emerged stronger than ever?”

I nodded and launched into a recap of the entire morning: Valko’s plans to utilize the Torchev military, lower the draft age to include mere boys, and then march against Shengli—all to plunder our neighbor and enslave its citizens, who more likely had the might to conquer the whole of Riaznin.

Anton seemed disturbed, but not surprised. “And you think your efforts to persuade him were not sufficient?”

“I thought they were the night of the ball, but I was wrong. And what I said today never reached his ears.”

He inhaled a long breath. “You may be right.”

I folded my arms, feeling cold now. Disappointment iced over my limbs with the fear that Anton had lost his confidence in any positive influence I could have upon his brother. But it was the truth. Nothing could be done to rein in the emperor, and I wasn’t sure I could endure a life in his shadow while I watched my homeland canker in ruination.

“One thing can be certain, however,” the prince said. “You do have the power, when you truly wish it, to persuade him. I’ve seen it. It isn’t enough to control him long-term, but we don’t need that. We simply need him tempered for one critical, well-timed moment.”

I shifted on my feet as caution and excitement—even
hope—fluttered inside me. “What do you have in mind?”

He took a deep drink and placed his glass on the table. “Sit down.”

I lowered myself into the chair, my hands tucked beneath my thighs until I forced them onto my lap in a show of confidence. This was it. I was on the cusp of receiving the answers I’d been waiting for. Anton needed to see I was ready to hear them.

“What did you think of Tosya’s book?” he began.

My gaze fell on the volume beside the tea glasses. “Tosya is brilliant.”

“How so?”

“The way he clears the fog away.” As Anton leaned closer, I tried to elaborate. “The people subject themselves to harsh rule and unrelenting taxation because they’ve been conditioned to believe the gods sanctioned one man to lord over them, as well as those of noble birth. But Tosya takes the faith of the people and turns it in their favor. He portrays the gods as loving of
all
of Riaznin’s children equally. Gods who mourn that we cannot see ourselves the way they do.”

“And this you gleaned after reading one book?”

“I’d had some of these thoughts, but Tosya distilled them for me.”

“What do you think the common people would do if they felt as you did?”

I considered the prince. “They would likely demand new rights.”

“What rights would you give them?”

This was beginning to feel like a test. Somehow that didn’t bother me. I was too zealous about the subject. “Equal privileges and punishments among the nobles and peasants. Equal taxation. The freedom to choose how to lead one’s own life, so long as it doesn’t infringe on someone else’s liberty to do the same.”

Anton rested his elbows on his knees. “What about the right to self-govern?”

My lips parted. For a long moment I couldn’t say anything. The breeze rattled the windowpanes. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Shouldn’t equality mean the people have a right to collaborate on who rules them? If they can vote, they have a voice. They could even choose to campaign for leadership.”

An ache flowered in my temple. I rubbed it, hoping to also wipe away my confusion. “But
you
should lead—as emperor. The people would follow you. They wouldn’t need to cast a vote about it.”

Anton tilted his head. “What if I did lead? What if I even granted the people the rights you spoke of? Could I ensure that my eldest son would uphold the new law when his time came to rule? What about
his
son?”

“You can’t
give
the government to the people!” I rose to my feet and stepped away from him. “Commoners and nobles drawing up laws together? Working side by side to enforce them? It’s preposterous! Unheard of!” Is this what he and his friends had been plotting all this time? What part did he expect me to play
in it? I’d hoped the prince somehow meant to usurp his brother. But
this
? This was an impossible scheme of madness.

Anton stood and planted himself in my path. “Why is it such a radical idea? Why should one man decide the fate of so many? How could he understand them all? He would need your abilities, but to feel the auras of hundreds of thousand people would drive a person insane. Ruling them
without
that insight is enough to do so. Look at Valko.”

I rubbed the pain in my temple and twisted away from the prince. He took my arm and pulled me back. “Talk to me, Sonya.”

I shook my head, panic overwhelming me. “You won’t listen! You and your brother both have your wild visions, and neither one of you will listen to me.”

“I will. I’m listening now. Tell me why this won’t work.”

I swallowed as I remembered the fury of all the auras in Ormina, the mob of starving peasants rallying against the convent gates. “I’ve felt what the wrath of injustice does to a people,” I said. “And when they learn how deeply they’ve been wronged, and then are given the reins of such power—such shared dominion . . . Anton, it will be a massacre! They’ll seek to destroy everyone who has ever oppressed them.” I pressed a hand to my stomach, imagining what that kind of energy would do to me—to those I loved. “I don’t see how this can come about peaceably. Change on that scale will mean war—among
ourselves
. Can you really condone that when one great man”—I looked at him beseechingly—“could carefully
nudge
them in a
better direction? Perhaps in a century we would be prepared for a ‘people’s government.’”

Anton smiled—actually smiled—after all I’d just told him. “Would it surprise you to know I share your same concerns?” he asked. “Do you realize I’m a pacifist? Sonya, I don’t wish death on anyone in order to bring this revolution about, not even my brother. And you are right that too much change, too fast, would result in chaos. I daresay the noble lords aren’t, at present, willing to let the serfs earn their portion of the land. But if every man and woman, rich or poor, had a voice—a representative—surely we could bridge to equality over time. One thing, however, is certain: We can’t postpone this new government. If we leave the empire in Valko’s hands, there may be no Riaznin left to unite. He will bring war in his fixation to expand. He’ll have us slaughtered by the tens of thousands until no one is exempt from his draft, and his dream of glory is nothing more than a wasteland covered with bones and ash.”

“And what of
your
dream?” I asked tentatively. “You were bred as an emperor, as well as your brother. Have you truly no desire to sit on the throne?”

The prince sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “That was what I thought my life would be . . . for far too long.” His face was confined in a strange spot of shadow in the candlelit room.

I moved in closer, trying to see his eyes better. “What changed your mind?”

He scuffed his boot on the floor. “Valko lived . . . I swallowed
my pride.” His brow twitched. “It tasted far more bitter than I anticipated.” With a sharp inhale, he lifted his chin to meet my gaze. “I met Tosya. He lingered around the woods of my estate every summer when his caravan rolled through. He didn’t treat me as his better; he treated me as a friend.” Anton lowered his eyes briefly. “A friend was a luxury I’d never had.” He scuffed the floor again, then straightened and ran a hand through his hair.

“Tosya asked if I could lend him books from the manor library,” the prince went on. “He pieced together quite an education by studying them over the years. I sponsored him at university and later printed his book, though nobody but him and myself knows that.” A glint of pride, sweet and noble, caused my heart to swell. “More people than you realize have read that book, Sonya.” Anton smiled, leaning closer in his earnestness. “And they have spread the most important phrase within to those who haven’t read it:
The mighty isn’t one, but many.
” The candlelight now burned in the prince’s eyes. “There is a revolution already brewing, Sonya. I don’t desire to be emperor anymore. I desire to be a part of the uprising.”

I felt Anton’s goodness in my soul, just as certain as the breath of
rightness
that filled me when I’d read Tosya’s words. I also felt such a sweep of fierce insecurity, it nearly knocked me to the ground.
He can never care for me as much as he cares for this cause. Nothing will ever be as important to him.
“I am Sovereign Auraseer,” I said, striving to remember my duty, though unlike Anton’s devotion to self-government, mine stemmed from compulsion, not choice. “Is that why you haven’t shared
with me your vision until now? Because it is treasonous? You know that I’m required to tell Valko of any threats to his crown.”

I couldn’t fathom doing so, but I needed to know that Anton understood what was at stake by confiding in me. If I were caught with the knowledge of what I’d learned tonight, it would cost me my neck and require Dasha and Tola to take up my stead.

“I trust you,” he replied.

“This isn’t about trust! You haven’t trusted me for months! You
need
me now.” I crossed my arms and scrutinized him. “You only gave me that book after you saw me with the emperor the night of the ball,” I added, as if I’d caught him guilty of a great crime. “Something has changed, and you need me now.”

“You’re right,” he answered unapologetically. “I do. I care too much about your welfare to endanger you otherwise.”

Something fluctuated between our auras. He composed himself so quickly, however, that I dismissed it as my own restless gut. The revelations of the evening were taking their toll on my body.

“But you’re wrong that this isn’t also about trust,” Anton continued. “That night you proved to me you had the mettle to stand up against Valko, that your strength of will would always find a way to shine through. I also understood you had no wish to unite yourself with him.”

“I gave him compassion,” I said, feeling slightly ashamed.

“Because it was a tool of resistance—a remarkable tool! One I’d never considered.”

I turned my head away to study the intricately painted tiles of his furnace. My heart drummed in my chest. Some part of me always knew how dangerous the prince’s secrets were, yet I’d been relentless about digging them out. And now that I knew them, they might cost me my life. As I turned to meet his gaze, his eyes warmed with belief in me. I asked, “What is it you want me to do?”

He took both of my hands. He squeezed them. “Persuade Valko to give up the government.”

My brows shot upward. My mouth went paper dry. I wanted to laugh. I tried to, but Anton’s aura, rooted inside me, was sober, as if none of the rum in his tea had met his bloodstream. “Abdicate? That’s not . . . How could I possibly . . . ? You’ve lost your mind!”

“You’re the key, Sonya. With you, this revolution can succeed without bloodshed.”

I found myself yanking away from him, but he kept his grip on my hands. “You’re spectacularly wrong about me!”

“You have a power over my brother I’ve never seen the like of. He gave up Estengarde for you.”

“I didn’t ask him to do that! That had nothing to do with my ability. I stopped Valko from
kissing
me—from hurting me. That’s pitiful next to what you’re talking about. He won’t relinquish the throne of his empire because I whisper comforting words in his ear!”

Anton’s conviction didn’t falter. “It was no small thing for him to let you go that night, not after what he lost because he
couldn’t bear losing you. He wants you, so very, very badly. He could charm a snail from its shell, and yet you keep him in check. Do you know how many women he’s seduced?”