Burning Glass (8 page)

Anton brought the mare to a halt. “All northbound roads converge to the palace.”

I nodded, unsure why he was telling me this. We were on a northbound road.

“Now”—the prince eased his grip on my hands—“I’d say it’s time you showed me your skill with horses.”

My heart leapt with anticipation. Despite the auras of the curious onlookers that clamored for my attention, I inhaled deeply and centered myself against the warmth of the mare. It seemed years since I had ridden, though it couldn’t have been much more than the eight months I’d spent at the convent. The sestras couldn’t justify the expense of sheltering and feeding horses, for we had no need to travel long distances and the other Auraseers couldn’t sense an animal’s energy. My gifts were unnatural. But at the moment I didn’t care. I felt so at home astride a horse. If there were any beasts worthy of human companionship, they were these magnificent animals. Their auras seemed designed to complement ours.

I bent forward and murmured words of comfort to the mare. Beneath my fingers, her weariness was as palpable as my own. But even more pronounced was the strength of her
determination. She seemed to sense we were close to our journey’s end and didn’t intend to give up until we reached our destination. Her fortitude came like muscle to my bones. “What is her name?” I asked Anton.

“Raina.” He shifted closer to me.

I softened my hold on the mare’s mane and focused on her energy, not allowing myself to glance at the backstreet city dwellers. I had to keep the fragile control over myself, which Anton had constructed for me. “You’ve been trotting for days, Raina. Would you like to go for a run?”

She whinnied, and I sat back against Anton’s chest. “Let’s run, then.” I clucked my tongue and gave Raina’s girth a sudden squeeze with my calves.

She reared. Anton’s arms tightened around me, but I felt no fright in the mare’s reaction. I couldn’t say the same for the few onlookers surrounding us. Surely just as Raina must have intended, they jumped back and cleared us a path. At once, the mare took advantage and lunged forward.

A wide smile spread across my face. We ducked under a hanging sign and raced down the twisting street. At the speed we were traveling, the emotions of the people were nothing but a blur that couldn’t threaten me, a thought I could toss to the wind. Steam rose off Raina. Her muscles worked in precision, while at the same time, abandon. I felt Anton relax behind me. He even lifted one hand from mine to rest on my waist. I found the pressure there pleasing.

I angled forward and kept my legs secure around the
horse’s body. My dress was hitched up and exposed an indecent portion of my legs, regardless of my gray stockings. Throwing my shame aside, I kicked Raina’s flanks until we rode even faster. Without the weight of the sleigh or being harnessed to two other horses, she easily maneuvered around the occasional sledge cart and lessening congestion. The streets branched and intersected, but Raina kept choosing the northbound route with little nudging from me. She seemed to know where her home was. We galloped onward. Snow flew off the cobblestones in our wake.

I imagined we traveled south to Illola or east to the borders of Shengli.

I imagined I was free.

The illusion broke when we ground to a halt outside the massive palace gates. The bars were made of pure gold and fashioned into flowering vines. Together, they created a mighty barrier between the city and the home of the emperor.

A soldier, recognizing the prince, turned the heavy lock and let us pass. We cantered up a gravel road lined with manicured, snow-capped hedgerows. At least a hundred guards stood stationed outside and stared ahead, trained not to look at anyone. They wore the colors of Riaznin, red and gold, and strapped onto each man’s back was a musket, while a sheathed saber hung from his belt. My thoughts strayed to the men. My awareness expanded as I sought to know if behind their identical facades, they had identical feelings.

“Don’t think about them,” Anton said, realizing what I was
doing when my head craned to study a guard we were passing. “We’re almost there.”

My eyes lifted to the palace. Up close, it looked less like a confection, more like the ominous structure it really was. A pretty cage to belie what it held within.

Something winked from the leaded glass of a window three stories off the ground, almost like the sun had bounced off a mirror or a large jewel. Anton’s body straightened behind me as he looked up. Then his arms stiffened. “I have to go,” he said, and abruptly dismounted the horse. Keeping his head low, he quickly pulled the satchel off his shoulder and passed it over to me after withdrawing his mother’s blanket. He tucked it under his arm and departed.

“Anton?” I stared after him.

He paused, no more than ten feet from me, and half turned without meeting my gaze. “Remember what I told you, Sonya. Find a space within yourself and cling to it. Don’t lose yourself here.” His eyes shifted to the upper window. “Not to him.”

Before I could form a reply, Anton strode away, his dusk-blue cape billowing a brilliant arc behind him. Gone was the almost friend from the last hour, the steadying hand, the assuring voice. I saw the boy assume the role of prince in the way his boots clipped the stones, in the proud set of his chin and the narrowed slit of his eyes. He entered the palace without sparing me another glance.

My chest fell. He had done his duty to his brother. He had
brought back the eldest Auraseer intact. What sheer relief he must feel to be done with me.

A stable master came and helped me off the horse. The palace doors opened and out streamed a flock of maids and attendants. Their pulsing auras revealed their surprise at the unusual delivery of the new sovereign Auraseer. I steeled myself as I let them guide me up the curving steps of the great porch, all the while mourning the sudden absence of Anton. I could no longer hide behind the folds of his cape or let the color of his eyes be my distraction.

My feet crossed the threshold into a spacious lobby where amber-inlaid floors gleamed back at me. I gazed beyond them to four sets of marble staircases, each twirling flight topped with golden rails. A magnificent painted ceiling loomed overhead. The seven gods of Riaznin sat on seven mighty steeds. At their center, beaming with seven rays, was a red sun, the symbol of Torchev—of the emperor.

I breathed in, breathed out, and sought with desperation that place Anton had urged me to find. A place of solitude within my heart. A place no other person could abuse or dominate.

I prayed such a place existed.

I
WAS LED TO A BEDROOM ON THE THIRD FLOOR OF
THE PALACE
—a great honor. The third floor was reserved for the royal family, meaning the only two left: Emperor Valko and Anton.

I refused to let myself feel important for sharing such close proximity to the emperor. As his protector, of course I needed to be nearby. If anything, it felt like a punishment rather than a blessing. I was not ready for this responsibility. Though when I saw what “close to the emperor” really meant—rooms at the opposite end of the longest corridor I’d ever seen—some relief opened my balled hands. They fisted again when I thought twice about my removed situation. Was I near enough to send warning of assassination or robbery or whatever the emperor deemed worthy of my intervention?

A luxurious rug rolled out from the gilded door of the emperor’s rooms like the red tongue of a dragon. I counted the repeating flowers woven into the design. Too many, stretching
too far away. No wonder Izolda had been executed. She was well past her middle ages. Perhaps she couldn’t run down this corridor fast enough. I wasn’t sure I could do any better.

My attendants guided me inside my rooms and set my satchel on a table. I braced myself for excess, for the opulence that marked every corner and every bit of trimming in the palace. My antechamber didn’t disappoint my expectation, though I couldn’t say it pleased me. My idea of comfort would have been a bed of earth under a leafy tree, soft grass for my carpet, a ceiling painted with living stars. My time with the Romska had taught me true beauty, and it was not in the room before me.

The velvet couches had a stylish shape, but looked stiff and uninviting. In fact, nothing appeared welcoming. Every item seemed designed for one purpose—to impress. The walls were papered in a rich pattern, so red it made my head ache, and the varnish of the desk and tea table shone so highly polished I was afraid to touch them and cause some poor servant the extra chore of rubbing away my fingerprints.

A furnace towered from floor to ceiling in the corner of the room, its surface covered in beautifully painted tiles. I was glad to have warmth in the winter, but I couldn’t help wondering at the expense of such artistry when a simple wood-burning stove would do. The people of Riaznin were burdened beyond the breaking point from taxation. I hoped the majority of their money didn’t go into prettying up the emperor’s home—
my
home.

My attendants bustled around me. “Is she truly the eldest Auraseer?” one maidservant whisper to another as they stoked the fire behind the grate of my furnace. Both girls looked to be my age. They were surely used to a sovereign Auraseer outranking them by years, not to mention clout. I lifted my chin and did my best to appear unaffected by the disbelief radiating from them in waves. They couldn’t see my hand behind my back, where I wrapped a loose thread from my sleeve around my finger, making it throb with trapped blood. That sensation kept me tethered when this roomful of intrusive auras threatened to tunnel into my mind, make me lose all my wits, and expose me for the undeserving fool I felt I was.

Two men brought in a copper tub and carried it past the carved door at the rear of the antechamber, which led to, I presumed, my bedchamber. Following the tub came an onslaught of male servants carrying buckets of steaming water. Their eyes strayed to me and some slid down the length of my body. Worse was the way their energy made my skin tingle and my mouth water. I swallowed hard and tore the string from my sleeve as I rushed to wrap my arms around my torso. Heat flamed my cheeks. Was I expected to bathe with everyone here? I was used to doing so with Romska girls and fledgling Auraseers, but not while a host of curious men surrounded me—some boys younger than myself. Who knew what strange customs awaited me and my new status?

I nearly wept with relief when a wiry, black-haired woman clapped her hands and shooed out the men after a little boy
hefted in the last bucket. He tripped over his shoes as he scurried out the door and gave me one final look of wonder. The door shut, and I was left with six blessedly female companions. The wiry woman motioned to the others, and they swarmed around me. In moments they had me undressed, naked, save for the black ribbon around my wrist, and shivering under their collective scrutiny.

Too young. Too thin. Too dirty.
My imagination supplied their thoughts, and from what I sensed in their auras, I wasn’t too off the mark.

The wiry woman pursed her lips. “I am Lenka, Head Maid of the Sovereign Auraseer. I served Izolda before you.” Her jaw ticked and a pang of sorrow constricted my chest. Perhaps they had been friends. The sensitive moment passed. Lenka’s gaze hardened. I laced my fingers together and strove to appear relaxed with no clothes on.

“You must eat more,” Lenka said sharply, her eyes lingering on my belly.

I blinked.
I
must eat more? I’d never seen a thinner woman in my life. She was all bones and harsh angles. Even her teeth brought structure to her cheeks in a horselike kind of way. “Yes, about that,” I said, swallowing any tart retorts off my tongue. “I don’t eat meat.”

My maids exchanged blank stares.

“Pardon?” Lenka asked.

I curled one bare foot over the other. “I don’t eat meat, not even fish. So if you could see that my food—”

“We are your personal attendants”—Lenka looked down her nose at me—“not the kitchen staff.”

Her irritation, injured pride, and disregard combined like hot needles jabbing all over my skin. I needed to shake them off and protect myself before I lashed back at her with her own venom. I didn’t wish to make enemies here. I had to think of Dasha and Tola. I had to succeed. Twisting the black ribbon at my wrist, I asked, “Am I to have a bath now?” I looked about the women, but no one held a dressing robe.

Lenka’s nostrils flared. She gave a stiff nod, then clapped. I wasn’t sure if it was a call for me or the other maids to follow, but together we complied.

I gasped as we entered my bedchamber. In a flash, the grandeur of my antechamber was gone. Here everything was a monochrome of browns, from the scuffed floor to the planked wood walls. The space was large and empty, all save the copper tub—a temporary furnishing—and a strange box of a bed in the far right corner.

As the women busied about the tub, testing the water, and pouring in salts and oils, again, I looked for a robe. I suspected the absence of one was a form of Lenka’s cruelty. I’d only spent a few minutes with her and already she didn’t like me. She took no pains to conceal it from her aura. Her aversion shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Even among the tolerant Romska, only one boy, Tosya, had taken the trouble to form a long-lasting friendship with me—the strange girl passed from caravan to caravan every few months in case my ability drew too much attention to
their encampments and brought them danger. The Romska had a difficult enough time dodging the law without the worry of harboring an Auraseer, someone who always carried a bounty on her head. Most kept their distance, but not Tosya.

I eagerly awaited every spring when I would join his caravan. He was three years older and two heads taller, and his aura was open and easy. More than that, it was
easing
. My time with him promised to be full of laughter and adventure. My mad spells diminished when we were together. Maybe he recognized that, and that’s why he endured a little scamp like me. He was a gifted songwriter and even taught me how to read. In the most important ways, Tosya was like a brother, realer than the brother the Romska claimed I once had.

I found a stack of towels behind the tub and wrapped one around myself, since the water was still too scalding to step into. As soon as I’d done so, my attention turned to the peculiar bed in the corner of the room.

It reminded me of a covered carriage without wheels. While the maids laid out silver combs on a tray and added spiced herbs to the bath, my curiosity overcame me. I sneaked over to the bed, climbed the stepping stool, and opened a little door. Four walls and a low roof enclosed the mattress. My chest burned for air just looking at the cramped space. How would I be able to sleep—breathe? Why did Izolda have such a bed?

I poked my head inside, craned my neck around, and stopped short when I spied the inner ceiling. Claw marks raked the wood. They peeled back the paint and dug veritable
trenches. Some contained traces of dried blood. My stomach folded with dread. Even the celebrated sovereign Auraseer had her secrets, her own twisted form of emotional release.

“Come.” Lenka clapped at me. “You don’t have time to rest.”

I slid out of the box as if escaping the nest of a viper. “Must I have this bed?”

Lenka’s thin lips curved. “You will want it soon enough.”

I crossed the room to the tub and stepped into the burning water. My heart beat out of cadence. I didn’t dare ask what Lenka meant. Her dark forewarning said enough.

The maids scrubbed me over. They lifted my limbs, dug behind my ears, and washed my hair three times. Had I been so filthy? The scent of juniper and spices wafted from the steam. Despite the thoroughness of my cleaning, the bath was rushed. Just as the water cooled to a desirable warmth, I was prodded out and into a crisp linen shift. Next came a corset, which I wouldn’t let near me (I’d had an encounter with whalebones before, and it was no pleasant thing to feel the death of that beast), and a honey-colored gown of silk, embroidered at the neck and hemline with shimmering white threads. The gown was supposed to be topped by the golden robe of the sovereign Auraseer, but I refused to wear it because it was lined in fur. Lenka’s cheekbones carved into sharper lines as she sucked in her breath with frustration. I promised to wear my token robe in the spring, when I would surely have a fur-less alternative.

My maids next presented my headdress, trimmed with pearls
that would dangle down the sides of my face. Unfortunately for Lenka, I declined it, as well, seeing as it was also trimmed in fur where it crowned my head. Several minutes passed before my head maid gave up persuading me to conform. I held my ground. I may have to sleep in a torture chamber of a bed, but I didn’t need to spend my waking moments feeling death brush my skin. At least I tolerated the foundational dress without any suffering. Some silkworms were boiled alive after spinning their cocoons, but the ones that contributed to my gown must have been allowed to mature into moths and emerge free.

“Let the emperor deal with you!” Lenka threw up her hands. “Only let it be known I did everything in my power to prepare you.”

Unease troubled my blood at her words. She reminded me of Sestra Mirna in that moment, another woman who had tried to prepare me for my destiny and failed, thanks to my own stubbornness.
But this is different.
This was a simple matter. Emperor Valko might be a tyrant, but surely my
clothes
wouldn’t infringe on how he ruled his empire or how well I could serve him. “I’ll be certain to tell His Imperial Majesty tomorrow that you had no hand in my shame,” I bit out, Lenka’s irritation finally becoming my own.

She put her hands on her bony, jutting hips. “Did you think we were dressing you for a private supper in your rooms?”

My ribs seemed to close in and smash my lungs and heart. “I’m to meet the emperor tonight?” My voice rose in a pitch near hysterics.

She looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. “Some seer you are.”

I was too frazzled to be offended. Besides, she was right. Couldn’t I have divined from all the urgency and everyone’s rushed, ill tempers that the ritual I’d been led through wasn’t customary? Had I been so desperate to put off meeting the emperor that I deliberately ignored the obvious?

The six women stood in a semicircle around me. My shoulders felt heavy with fatigue—their fatigue, as well as my own. They had spent their strength wrestling me clean and dressed. Bridling a wild stallion must be easier.

“I’ll wear my hair down,” I announced, summoning my dignity and any remaining vigor I could borrow. If only my ability allowed me to keep their auras in my clutches when we parted. I would need all the fortification I could for this evening. Why in Feya’s name had I ever opened the convent gates? Why hadn’t I listened to Sestra Mirna, to Basil, to all my better instincts, weak though they were?

“The ladies at court wear their hair up,” Lenka replied.

“I am not a lady at court. I am Sovereign Auraseer. And if I cannot wear a headdress, I will let my own hair be my adornment.” I sounded as proud as any queen, but in truth, I was only anxious not to incur the emperor’s wrath at my lack of proper attire.

Lenka studied me. A sense of calm and rightness washed through my chest. She straightened her back. “Very well. You are young, so I suppose loose hair will not be inappropriate.
In fact, the emperor might find the virginal effect it lends you pleasing.”

Two of the prettier maids exchanged glances, like they knew something about Emperor Valko we did not. A flood of warmth came to my belly, but I didn’t know if it belonged to the two maids or if it was my own apprehension for this evening.

Lenka clapped. “Step closer to the furnace, and we will dry your hair.”

She didn’t chide me again as the ladies lifted my hair in sections and fanned it near the hot tiles. Once dried, they brushed it with burdock and nettle oil and let it fall in shining waves to the middle of my back. Perhaps Lenka had been testing me all along, waiting to see how far she could push me until I pushed back. Until I proved I might have a spark of Izolda—of greatness—in me.

I only hope it doesn’t cost me my head.
I glanced back at the box bed and suppressed a shiver.
Or my sanity.

Guided by Lenka as we left my rooms, I passed a gold-framed mirror. I was a different creature than the one who had entered. My head maid was right—I looked pure and undefiled with my hair down, almost like I wore the veil of a bride. But within myself, I felt a murderess’s guilt. If only Lenka knew what I had done. I drew in a deep breath. I wished this unraveling inside me was merely the flutterings of an anxious girl on her wedding day, that the long corridor before me was the aisle of a church leading me to an altar and a groom, not the ruler of Riaznin.