Burning Glass (16 page)

Valko’s shoulders rounded. The storm clouds broke apart. “Don’t you care for me at all, Sonya?”

My balled hands opened at my sides. Did I? How deep did my affection run? How much of it was my regard for him, and not his attraction to me?

How sincerely did he care for me? He was planning to be married. Still, how often had I craved another summons to his rooms—or for him to knock on my door? There must be a reason I hadn’t used the key to the secret ballet room. Was the reason my own true feelings?

Valko stared at me, hard and unyielding. Before I could answer him, he swept closer and crushed his mouth on mine. His body pressed against me with none of the patient tenderness he’d exercised for weeks.

His abrupt passion came like a battering ram against my indecision. I held my body rigid, determined to first understand what I felt for him while he kissed me more roughly, while he yanked his hands through my hair and shoved me back against the table’s sharp edge. When I released a cry of pain, the door to the council chambers burst open.

“I’m sorry to intrude, but you’ll want to read this letter immediately.”

Anton.

Releasing a breath of irritation, Valko drew away and settled his forehead against mine. He blocked my view of his brother. “Give me the news quickly,” he said without turning.

Anton spoke in monotone and betrayed none of the furious emotions trapped inside him. “The Estens received your missive,” he answered Valko.

I squirmed in vain and tried to pull out of the emperor’s arms so I could see the prince, so I could study his features to see if they matched his hostile aura. Had Anton been listening outside the door? Why was he so upset? He’d made it clear he didn’t care one whit about me.

“What’s more,” the prince continued, “the emissary is already traveling to meet you. His messenger rode ahead. The emissary will arrive in two days’ time.”

Valko exhaled with supreme satisfaction. His impassioned anger transformed into something bright, like the sun had overcome the storm outside. The fact that the rain still pattered incessantly outside the windows didn’t faze him. He kissed me again, long and deep, not minding the audience of his brother—or perhaps making a greater display
because
Anton was there.

Embarrassed with the prince in the room and still trembling from the rage I had felt at the emperor’s rebuke, I willed my body to turn to stone. Inside me, however, was a cacophony of feeling, loud and forceful, midnight-dark and seductive. I longed to fall into the violent path of its rhythm.

Valko didn’t seem to notice my struggle. He pulled away from my lips with a gratified smile and smoothed the hair from my face. “What did I tell you?” he said, kissing my nose. “The gods foresaw my destiny. Under my rule, the empire will stretch from sea to sea.” He patted my arm. “Go and lie down, Sonya.
You will need your rest. And I will need you to be more watchful than ever once the emissary arrives.”

Afraid to speak or even breathe in case I broke the thin wall holding the racketing chaos within me, I only gave Valko a small nod.

Placated, he turned away, and in doing so revealed an unobstructed view of Anton. Our gazes locked. The prince’s brown eyes held misery, a wound gaping open, as if it had been growing larger every day. My chest ached with it. I didn’t understand how I had hurt him, how that was even possible when he’d spent weeks closing himself off to me.

“Come, Anton.” Valko motioned for his brother as he approached the door. “We have much to do.”

With one last pained look in my direction, the prince left me standing in the council chambers alone, my back bruised where it was still pressed against the table Valko had pinned me to, my hands clenched on its edge. The only sound was the rainfall, washing away every aura but my own.

It was enough to bear.

Later that night, I lifted the knotted plank of wood in my bedchamber, and I picked up the key.

I
THRUST MY WEIGHT AGAINST THE BOX BED.
F
OR
SUCH A SOLID
piece of furniture, it glided away easier than expected. Slick casters and a perfectly smooth floor made the job simple. As Anton had promised, the hidden door revealed itself—smaller than most doors, its height coming to my shoulders. Faded red paint with yellow daffodils peeled away from it in sections. It was a door meant for little girls. Sisters. Anton’s great-aunts. The Ozerov family who had rebuilt this palace.

I ducked my head, opening the door inward, then entered the decaying ballet practice room. It was plain and empty with pinewood floors and varnished oak paneling. The only embellishments were a tarnished, wall-sized mirror and a ballet barre fastened onto it. I held up my candle and inspected my dim reflection in the mirror and the dust that coated everything in the room. Izolda must have not known about this place. Perhaps no one but Anton did.

The strangeness of my bedchamber made better sense, seeing its almost-twin here. Perhaps my room had once been a private performance hall for the royal family, and my antechamber the receiving area. I pictured the girls, like ghosts from the past, flitting through the door to their practice room to change costumes and powder their noses.

This room, unlike my own, didn’t have a door off the main corridor. There was another door, however, on the other side of the room—the same size as the red door, only painted lavender with white daisies.

I bit my lip and turned the key over in my hand. Anton had told me there was a ballet room, and that my bedchamber connected to it. I didn’t realize there were adjoining rooms beyond the ballet studio. Did the rooms link all the way from my room to the prince’s? Surely this lavender door couldn’t be his; it was too close. How many hidden chambers separated us?

I had come this far wanting a safe place to hide from Valko. His attentions were growing more suffocating, more irresistible by the day. I didn’t trust myself. I had to do something beyond shying away from his advances. They needed to be thwarted altogether. Over the past hour, I had devised a solution. I needed to share it with Anton. After his reaction today in the council chamber, I hoped he would be willing to help me.

With a rush of determination, I hefted the box bed and pulled it flush to the wall with the red door. That way Lenka
wouldn’t find me if she entered my rooms. I stood, swiveled around, and swept across the ballet studio, next trying my key in the lavender door.

Once I entered, a child’s playthings confronted me, all sleeping beneath a thick layer of dust. A rocking horse. Clay pennywhistles and marionettes. Nesting dolls with their gradually smaller companions, all lined up in a row. Riaznian fairy tales displayed in flaking murals upon the walls. The Armless Maiden growing her limbs back to rescue her son from a well. Father Frost admonishing the Impolite Child.

Again, no door existed to the outer corridor, only another door to yet another room.

Heart pounding, I approached the door, painted evergreen with ice-capped mountains and a setting sun. This door was taller than the last two. I opened it, pushed away the chest of drawers blocking the entrance, and found myself in a beautiful bedchamber, also green—almost living. Tapestries of lush forests, streams, and flowering grass covered the walls.

This room had not been as neglected as the others. The furnishings and window glass had been dusted and polished at least once within the past year. An inviting bed with creamy satin blankets took residence against the corridor wall. This wall, unlike the ones in the previous rooms, had an outer door, though a heavy beam was nailed across it. I scanned the rest of my surroundings. Draped over a cedar chest beside the bed was the mossy-green and embroidered blanket that Anton had
brought on our journey to Torchev—the blanket belonging to his mother, the dowager empress. This room must have been her bedchamber.

Surely Valko knew about these hidden places, then. So why had Anton given me a key leading to supposed rooms of safety if his brother was aware of their existence? But then, this bedchamber was boarded up—most likely at Valko’s orders—and the door to the nursery had been hidden by the empress’s chest of drawers. No, Anton wouldn’t have directed me here if he wasn’t certain the rooms were secure.

I inhaled a deep breath and revolved to stare at the last intersecting door, painted midnight blue with silver stars.

Anton.
This had to be his room. And if it was anything like the ones I had passed through—each lovely in its own way, but not excessive like the emperor’s—then it suited the prince perfectly. Knowing Anton, he had chosen such a room himself, despite the grander ones on the third floor that remained unoccupied.

As I tiptoed toward the midnight-blue door, I felt the faint pulsing of his aura. Was he sleeping?

I set down my candle on a small table and put my key in the lock. With a quiet click, I opened the door.

The air, cool with moisture, penetrated my nightgown. A copper tub—the tub brought to my room when
I
needed bathing—rested before me. A cloudy film of soap had settled upon the water’s surface. Nearby, a wrung washcloth lay draped over a stepping stool.

“Sonya?”

My hair spilled over my shoulder as I startled to face Anton. He stood up from his desk chair. My heart thrummed, for he was wearing only his breeches, his chest still wet, his hair curled at his neck and temples. I clutched the folds of my nightgown and forced myself to breathe, to think clearly. I had surprised
him
by entering, not the other way around. Though I never imagined surprising him like this.

Try as I might, I couldn’t look away from him. I couldn’t be the modest girl who lowered her lashes. A beautiful need coursed through my veins. It was difficult to remember Anton wasn’t past his nineteenth year, especially when I saw him this way. Though his aura felt vulnerable, every inch of his body declared his strength and maturity.

With a shaky inhale, I rolled back my shoulders and steeled myself to the reason I came here. I didn’t wait for Anton to put on his nightshirt, though he hurriedly grabbed it from a chest at the foot of his bed. “Is Valko truly your brother?” I asked without preamble.

He frowned as he tugged his shirt on. The linen clung to the wet and defined muscles of his chest. I flexed my hands. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Did the emperor come to your rooms tonight?”

“I didn’t stay to find out. Is he your brother?” I asked again.

The candle on Anton’s writing desk underlit his face, catching on his cheekbones and the hollows around his eyes. “Yes, he is.”

Unconvinced, I drew closer. A book with a pale-blue binding lay open on the desk. He shut it and turned it over so I couldn’t see the title, then set it atop an unfinished letter. A quill rested beside it. Anton must have been writing when I entered his room. Secrecy shrouded his aura and prickled the hairs on my arm. My chest filled as he began his trick of deep breathing and intense focus to block me. “Are you certain?” I asked, forcing myself to exhale of my own accord. “I was young when my parents sent me away. I can’t even remember their faces. How can you be sure Valko is the same boy from your childhood?”

Anton moved away from his desk and folded his arms. “My mother was sure.”

“How could she be? Did Valko have a distinguishing feature—a scar or a birthmark?”

The prince’s hand drifted to his forearm. His thumb brushed a spot hidden by his sleeve. Something in my belly fluttered. I wasn’t sure why. “He doesn’t have a birthmark.” Anton watched for my reaction carefully. “As for my mother, she alternated visiting both of us when my father could spare her, though she never told me my brother survived.”

Releasing a breath of frustration, I paced away from him. The light of his candle cast a weak glow over the varnished woods and deep blues of the room. The window curtains were drawn shut.

“What is this about?” Anton approached me.

I shook my head as helplessness crowded my thoughts.
“Sometimes I wish Valko were the imposter. Then you could rule in his stead.”

Anton halted, his brow stern. “I have no desire to be emperor.”

“I don’t believe that.” I moved closer so I could see his eyes in the darkness, feel his aura with more clarity. His intense focus wavered the nearer I advanced. He swallowed and squared his shoulders. “You were raised to assume this position,” I said, “just as he was. I’ve heard you speak in the council chamber. I see how much you love your country, how much you can offer it.”

“That does not give me the right, under the empirical order, to govern Riaznin.” Anton shifted away, his jaw muscle flexed. “No one man should have that right.”

I searched him, trying to weave through his complicated emotions. Trying to understand my own. I’d come here in hopes of finding a way to hinder Valko. I didn’t trust myself to not reciprocate his desire for me. One day I might surrender to every dark quality I possessed. I might lose myself completely, live unrestrained, and to everyone’s detriment.

Anton was different from me, different from Valko. The prince was careful to keep himself guarded and his impulses in check. He wouldn’t sway me or let me sway him. He could be trusted with the empire.

“What if . . .” I went back to the midnight-blue door and shut it, fearing someone could be listening. What I was about to ask was dangerous. “What if you claimed Valko was the imposter? Are there enough people to support you?”

Anton’s gaze hardened and flickered to the letter on his desk.

“The dowager empress is no longer here to validate her son,” I added as respectfully as possible—I didn’t want to disgrace Anton’s mother—but my muscles went rigid as soon as the words fell from my lips. I’d set off something drastic in him.

Anton walked toward me slowly, his severity making my pulse race. “Sonya, take care.” His low voice quavered. “Your words are treasonous. If Valko were to learn of this, he would have your head.”

I lifted my chin. “He would not have the authority to take it if you wore his crown.”

He gripped my arms below the shoulders. “Think of what you’re saying! You’re his sworn protector. If we succeed in framing him as an imposter, he will be executed!” The prince’s gaze bored into mine. “Is that something you could live with?”

My throat went dry. I couldn’t speak. My jumbled plan hadn’t carried me as far as the emperor’s death. Of course I didn’t want that to happen.

“Are you sure these are your feelings?” Anton continued. “Valko’s councilors are nearby; they’ve been in his rooms for hours discussing the celebration for the emissary. I can only imagine you weren’t invited to the meeting due to your opposition this afternoon. But you may not be alone in your opinions. Perhaps some of councilors are also unhappy at the idea of an alliance with Estengarde.”

I blinked. I hadn’t considered the councilors’ malevolence
today in that respect, only as it might be directed toward me. As sovereign Auraseer, it was my job to anticipate any harm that might befall the emperor, but I’d been relying too hard on the idea that I’d feel any danger to him instinctively, like I had as a child when I’d sensed a robber approach my parents’ house.

But what if the threats in the palace were far more deceptive than I’d imagined? Could Anton be right? Could my impulses tonight belong to another? No one, including myself, had yet deduced who’d tried and failed to poison the emperor and succeeded in killing the dowager empress. Maybe it was one of the councilors, now only a few walls away. But at our meeting this afternoon, their resentfulness had only made me feel uneasy, not truly imperiled.

Were they more practiced at concealing their auras? Anton had a method for doing so. Did they? The councilors must be used to sovereign Auraseers hovering nearby. Perhaps if the villain who poisoned the empress was among them, he was more than unhappy at the prospect of an Esten alliance. Perhaps he’d been unhappy about
many
things—and for some time.

I placed a hand on my stomach and lowered my eyes, sifting through myself for what was mine, what was Anton’s, and what could be someone else’s. As always, it was never so simple. The feelings holding me together usually felt my own. Most novice Auraseers didn’t master these nuanced differences until they were ten years my senior, and the girls at the convent had begun their studies years earlier than me.

“This isn’t the answer,” Anton said, breaking up my thoughts. “We’ll find a different way to divert Valko’s attentions from you. With the news of the emissary’s arrival, he’s already caught up in his plans for marrying another.”

I shook my head. My hands clenched with stubbornness. “I fear for more than myself, Anton. Some of these feelings of impending danger have to be my own! I refuse to believe I’ve attended so many council meetings without forming my own opinions and convictions.”

“I do not doubt you have, but—”

“Did you hear your brother today?” I raised my voice, cutting him off. “He means to invade Shengli! Our people are already weak from famine. We’ve lost too many to the border wars. We don’t stand a chance against the Shenglin army. Valko will strip our people of their last shreds of morale and dignity—indeed, their very lives—in order to expand the empire! And he will never be satiated.”

In the same respect, I knew Valko would never be satiated by a marriage. He would grow restless, and when he grew restless his eyes drifted to me.

The prince fell quiet. Was he finally ready to truly consider what I was saying? I looked up at him beseechingly. “The people would follow you, Anton. I know they would. You have the potential for greatness and would never stoop to cruel measures in the name of Riaznin’s glory. The empire would flourish under your reign.”

His grip on my arms softened. His gaze turned heavy, pleading. “Do not tempt me, Sonya.”

My lips parted in surprise. He spoke as if I had power over him, not the other way around.

His smell of musk and pine encircled me, and my knees went weak.
Do not tempt me, Sonya
echoed through my mind. Was it possible Anton’s words held double meaning? Could he truly . . . did he really long for me the way I longed for him? I gazed into the warm cast of the prince’s brown eyes.