Burning Glass (29 page)

“Of course you are good enough, Sonya. It has nothing to do with that.”

I met Tosya’s deep-brown eyes. It was such a comfort to see him, this boy who’d been like a brother, to remember who I was when he had known me, the feeling he’d fostered within me of fragile self-worth. But Tosya had no idea of what I’d done since I left the Romska, no idea the convent’s burning was because of my willful recklessness. The black ribbon at my wrist itched.

I shouldn’t chide Anton for his secrets. Mine were so dark I hoped he would never uncover them.

Tosya put his hands in his pockets. “Anton once treated me the same as you. Being abandoned at such a young age . . . it
had a profound effect on him. It’s difficult for him to place his trust in anyone.”

“I was also separated from my parents.”

“Yes, well, as he said, you are truly incredible. Don’t judge him too harshly for grieving differently than you. Be patient with him.”

I looked past Tosya’s dim figure to Anton several feet away. He sat, head lowered, his hands clasped together on the parlor table, as if steeling himself for another long council meeting. “I don’t think any amount of patience can outlast his resolve. When it comes to me, the prince is determined to remain distant.”

Tosya rubbed my arm. “Perhaps that’s because he needs you more than anyone and doesn’t know who he would be if that need in him was gone. He’s only ever learned to
fight
, to be without everyone he’s ever cared for, to guard his emotions from others.”

“Until he met you.”

“Yes,” Tosya relented. “But through me he’s found another reason to keep fighting. That is what binds us in the end. I was content with the Romska, writing my songs and secret stashes of poetry until Anton saw something within me larger than myself—something in my words that could give people hope. And I’m assuming he’s seen something bigger within you, as well, and you’re now a part of this fight.”

I nodded, though I’d never quite committed to the role the prince had laid out for me.

Tosya leaned closer and whispered with a chuckle, “It’s terrifying, though, isn’t it?”

I looked at him in surprise. Tosya may have inadvertently launched a revolution, but he was still the same unassuming Romska boy who had been my friend for years.

“I try to let Anton and the others do all the talking and political maneuvering,” he confessed. “My poetry has said all I want to say.” With a wink, he added, “Now I’m just the pretty face of the cause.”

I lifted a brow. “One who will be executed if he’s ever discovered by the authorities.”

“Always the first to sour the mood, Sonya.”

That drew a small laugh from me.

“Come on.” He draped his long arm around my shoulder and guided me back to the parlor. “Let’s go pretend we’re as qualified for this revolution as the prince believes we are. With any luck, we’ll start believing it ourselves.”

Tosya’s humor could only briefly lift my spirits. It might have been terribly selfish of me, considering we were talking about war and the future of the empire, but all I could think of was that no amount of luck would make a lynx-shaped birthmark materialize on my arm.

“F
ELIKS IS STILL PRESSURING ME TO OVERTHROW
V
ALKO AND
claim myself as emperor,” Anton said as he scratched the growing stubble on his chin.

He and Tosya had spent the last half hour catching up on all the latest happenings. The situation was dangerous for my Romska friend. He’d been accused of high treason, the empire’s bounty hunters and soldiers were searching for him, and any copies of his book were to be burned if discovered. He spent most of his days in hiding and had taken a great risk in coming to Torchev to meet with Anton. Tosya was supposed to have convened with the prince and his revolutionaries on Morva’s Eve, but when the night before the modest holiday had turned into a grand ball in honor of Floquart de Bonpré, Anton instructed Tosya to stay away.

Their thus-far-quiet rebellion was coming to a head, the wrath of the people transforming into its own beast. Something
violent was on the brink of happening. Anton feared the spark might be ignited when the people learned of the lowered draft age. “Feliks believes it will be easier to transition the government to the people if I first take it myself,” the prince said.

“Why
don’t
you do it that way?” I asked, seeing the merits of Feliks’s reasoning. I’d learned that the man with the piercing blue eyes was also Anton’s representative of the people. Every large city or group of villages in Riaznin had a similar leader in the plot of the revolution. They held secret meetings, shared their dreams of freedom, and reported back to Feliks, who also headed up the circle in Torchev.

“Then you’ll have the backing of the nobles,” I added. “At least for a time.” Many would support Anton as emperor; many believed Valko was only the changeling prince. “In that case, Count Rostav would be a stronger ally.” While Feliks represented the people, I’d discovered Nicolai was assigned to the nobles, only a tiny fraction of whom were being slowly conditioned to the infant steps of equality. “He would have more time to persuade other nobles to your cause and grant the peasants and serfs more rights.”

Tosya leaned forward, arms folded on the table. A nearly empty tumbler of kvass rested beside him. “Is Nicolai holding steadfast?”

I remembered the count’s disturbing neutrality in our last council meeting. Anton hadn’t forgotten it, either. “He is faltering the more perilous this becomes.” The prince sighed. “My
vision for this revolution is peaceable, and Nicolai has clung to that. He isn’t the warrior his father was, and, in truth, I’m not confident he can remain loyal to our cause. It’s all happening too fast, and if we can’t persuade the people to be more patient, blood will spill, and too much of it.”

“Which is why Feliks’s idea isn’t a bad one,” I said, circling back to the version of the revolution where Anton took the throne first before carefully giving the people their rights.

The prince frowned as he studied me. Dark rings had surfaced beneath his eyes. “You know why I won’t rule over my brother. Because he
is
my brother. And by order of birth, the throne is his.”

“Yet you seek to take it away from him, regardless. By direct manipulation. Through
me.
Which is worse?” The challenge between us coiled hot in our auras. It broke apart at Tosya’s exclamation.

“You wish Sonya to force Valko to abdicate?” His brows lifted with incredulity. “How?”

We hadn’t gotten to this part—Anton’s pivotal, impossible plan. “Sonya can do more than sense emotion,” the prince replied. “She can alter it in someone else.”

“Once!” I said in exasperation. “I was able to do it only one time!”

Tosya stared at me like a stranger. “Truly? And when did you acquire that gift?”

“When Valko tried to kill her,” Anton replied flatly.

Tosya’s brows raised another notch. “Ah,” he said, his gaze drifting between us, all too keen on everything left unspoken. “I see.”

I felt blood rush up my neck into my cheeks. Here, in this run-down boardinghouse, I felt far away from the palace, far away from Valko and the spell of charisma and attraction he’d cast over me, the link of mutual understanding he’d claimed we shared. It was hard to believe how conflicted I had been, how torn I’d felt between my desire for him and his brother.

“You’ve had an interesting few months at the palace, haven’t you, Sonya?” Tosya asked. Despite himself, he grinned. His perplexed and light emotion sent a tickle under my arms.

“Don’t tease her,” Anton said. “It isn’t funny.”

That only gave his friend permission to laugh. “You’re right. It isn’t.” Tosya tried to compose his features, but his humor only rose and flitted across my skin. “It kind of is.” He snorted, his eyes watering. “Just a little.”

I sucked in my cheeks and struggled not to laugh with him and let his aura overtake me. Anton’s frown deepened “What’s the matter with the two of you?”

“It’s him.” I pointed at Tosya, lips quivering.

“Stop it,” Anton commanded his friend.

Tosya chortled harder. I smacked his shoulder, and he buried his face in his hands. His palms pressed against his eyes as his entire body trembled with laughter. “I’m sorry! Truly, I am. It’s late and I can only handle so much surprise in one evening.” He pulled his hands away, his face red with merriment. “Thus
far I’ve learned the two of you are not only
acquainted
”—his emphasis on that word designated it as a euphemism for something far more complicated—“but also that the young girl I once knew, who once rolled in the mud with the pigs when she had a sudden urge to cool off, is now the sovereign Auraseer, and that her entanglement in our revolution means she must ‘alter the emperor’s emotions’ to the extent he willfully and joyfully hands over the throne.”

“You see?” I said to Anton. “Even he thinks it’s ridiculous!”

The prince’s jaw twitched. He leveled a firm stare on his friend. “You haven’t seen her do it.”

Tosya shrugged. “Granted.” He tossed back the dregs of his kvass and strangely gained sobriety in doing so. “So let’s see her do it now.”

I blinked at him. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. Maybe that’s why you were such a charmer with the wild horses in your youth. Could you bend their emotions, too?”

My mouth opened and shut a few times while I considered him. “If I did, I had no idea what I was doing,” I finally answered.

Tosya cocked a half smile. “Come on, then. Show me something. Make me get up and do a jig.”

“This is absurd!” Anton snapped. “She doesn’t do parlor tricks.”

“But we’re in a parlor.”

“Tosya.”

“Couldn’t resist.”

“I’ve had enough! This isn’t a joke!” Anton’s voice was severe. “Sonya
has
this gift. She’s suffered enough to discover it; she doesn’t have to suffer more to prove herself to you.”

“Very well, Anton.” Tosya held up his hands. “If you say Sonya has this power, I’ll believe you because I
trust
you, and I trust her. But please tell me you’re aware of all the danger you’re putting her in.” He turned to me, all of his humor gone. “And please tell me
you
were aware of the danger before you committed yourself, because when I penned all those lofty words, I never dreamed they would put anyone in peril.”

“I haven’t committed yet.” My hands slid under my thighs.

“And she isn’t cornered,” Anton added defensively. “I’ve given her the choice.” His nostrils flared as he lowered his gaze. “Though the life she is forced to live is already stripped of any freedom.”

Swirling the ghost of kvass in his tumbler, Tosya eyed Anton. “This is why you brought her here tonight: you want
me
to persuade her.”

Anton didn’t deny it. He exhaled and met Tosya’s accusatory stare. Their auras fought inside me and caused my stomach to cramp. I felt like I was back in the council chamber, sitting between the prince and his brother, not the prince and his closest friend.

“Well, I won’t do it.” Tosya crossed his arms. “Sonya is right. Whether she manipulates Valko or you defraud and usurp him, neither method is less ugly. The emperor
must
be overcome for
this revolution to succeed. He must be hurt. You cannot prevent that. With great change always comes some destruction of the old. ‘His throne will be timber to build new cities. His palace gold for bread,’” he quoted from his book. “You need to remember that. You need to accept it.”

I watched Anton’s haggard and beautiful eyes, and despite the fact he’d dragged me out here in the middle of the night to have a poet convince me of my part in the revolution, I wanted to kiss his cheek and lay his head against my breast.

All this debate, this worry eating away at him, filtered down to how deeply he respected humankind. He wanted liberty and equality for all of us. He didn’t want anyone to suffer—not even his brother. Anton
loved
Valko, I realized. Maybe not the man he was now, but the boy he once had been, the man he could have become—that he still had a hope of becoming. That was why Anton wanted me to bend the emperor’s emotions, because perhaps Valko stood a better chance at redeeming himself after abdicating than he would if Anton usurped him. The prince didn’t wish to tear from his brother the barest part of his identity—that he was Emperor Izia’s eldest son, whether or not he continued to rule Riaznin.

“I’ll do it,” I said. When both men turned to me, their auras radiated amazement. I took a steadying breath. “At least I’ll try.” The task seemed as formidable as ever.

“Sonya.” Tosya set down his tumbler. “We planned this revolution without you, and it’s going to happen regardless of your
involvement. Your parents never wanted this for you.”

“They never wanted me to be free?” I managed a grin.

“They
always
wanted your freedom, but not at the expense of your life.”

“That’s what life is—a massive choice.” I sat up straighter, trying to reach some of Tosya’s height. “One day you, like me, won’t be able to hide any longer. The authorities will find you, and you will have to face the consequences of everything you wrote in that wonderful book. I’ve read it, Tosya, and I’m so proud of you. I fear for you, as well. But I would never wish to take away the choice you made by writing those words. That was your part in this, your stand for what you believe is right. Now I must take mine.”

He smiled sadly at me. “I suppose I always knew I couldn’t comfort you forever. You would travel to another caravan and face your nightmares alone.”

Beneath the table, Anton found my hand. His skin was warm as he laced our fingers together. His aura burned with gratitude and something deeper, something far more powerful.

“I’m not alone,” I said.

Anton and I rode the tawny draft horse back to the palace. We’d left soon after I’d declared myself a fully fledged revolutionary. The dark sky was graying, growing closer to dawn. Soon the kitchen staff would arise to bake bread and pluck feathers from the fowl that graced the emperor’s tables.

Thankfully, even in this unsettling quarter of the city, the
streets were finally empty. I let my eyes fall closed and trusted Anton would hold me upright.

A little while later, when the prince must have thought I was sleeping, I felt the warm press of his lips on my head.