Burning Glass (17 page)

My breath caught in stunning revelation.

I wanted Anton.

I cared for him more than I’d ever dared to admit.

We stared at each other, our chests rising and falling in cadence. My heart drummed faster and faster. My arms tingled beneath the sleeves of my nightgown, under the gentle pressure of his touch. I forgot what we were arguing about. All I understood was my deep pull to him, to his strength and goodness—the very traits I lacked and the reason I’d denied my feelings so long. Who was I to think the prince, the same boy who sought to abolish serfdom and fostered self-reliance among his province, could ever fall for someone dark and turbulent like me?

The prince’s conflicted eyes wandered over my face. In that moment, I desired something more than for him to be emperor. I desired his hands to slide around my back. His touch to surround me. I shivered with the aching need to be closer to him.
My gaze dropped to his mouth. The wet air from his bath collected in a sheen of moisture above his lip. “I’ve learned to accept what can never be mine,” he said.

Our bare toes touched as I moved nearer. “Then unlearn it.”

The base of his throat ticked where his pulse beat rapidly. A new emotion scuttled across my mind. A strange curiosity. Somehow I knew it belonged to him. His hand traveled down my left arm. He turned my hand over and brushed the sensitive skin of my inner wrist. I drew in my breath as he pushed back the hem of my sleeve to my elbow.

He stared at my arm for several moments, his disappointment flooding me.

“What’s the matter?” I didn’t understand what had upset him, but it made my chest tighten, my heart compress with pain.

He dropped my arm and gave a mirthless laugh, rubbing the space between his eyes. “It’s nothing. I’m only tired.” He walked to the midnight-blue door. I’d left the key in the lock. “We should say good night.”

I held on to my arm, which had triggered his sudden mood change. “Won’t you think on what I’ve told you?”

“No.” His mouth formed a straight line. “And I ask you never to bring up the matter again.”

My eyes flew wide with hurt. What had come over Anton? A moment ago he was all warmth and tenderness. I even thought he might kiss me. What had I done to cause offense?

Would I never be good enough for him? Or did he have no desire to touch me because Valko had already staked his claim?

I locked my jaw and concealed my wounds with something stronger—my stubbornness. “Is this how it will always be?” I folded my arms. “Will things grow easier between us, or will you spend all your days avoiding me, treating me like I carry the plague?”

His brow hitched in pain; I’d pierced his armor with that. “I wish things could be different, Sonya. You must believe that.”

I bit my lip. “Why can’t they be? At least
here
? Without the emperor watching, surely we can be friends.” Anton must have known that giving me the key would propel me to open door after door until I found his room. He must have wanted me to.

“I suppose so,” he answered quietly, then glanced at his feet. He swiftly covered any vulnerability by forcing a light smile to his lips. “Though, in the future, I hope you learn to knock. Thank the gods you didn’t barge in a few minutes earlier.”

Heat burned to the tip of my ears as a stark image formed in my mind. I had to look away; I’d seen too much of him.

“You
do
need to leave,” Anton said, a little gentler this time. “The servants will be coming to clean up after my bath.”

I nodded and finally relented. And because my gaze was downcast when I walked to the door, it fell upon his desk. The top of the unfinished letter peeked out from beneath the book with the pale-blue binding. It was addressed to a Count Nicolai Rostav.

That name had a familiar ring. Was that the Nicolai that Anton had spoken of when I overheard him outside the stables? The prince had asked his companion if Nicolai was still committed. To what, I wondered.

“Come, Sonya.” Anton’s aura grew thick with a compulsion for secrecy again, as if he didn’t want me lingering near the letter. “You can’t be discovered here.”

His hand rested on top of the door. I nodded again. Now wasn’t the time to barrage him with questions. As I walked away from the desk and then under his arm, I felt a surge of yearning. His free hand moved to cover mine, and I gasped as the need between us flowed stronger. I darted my gaze up at him.

“Your key,” he said, his voice nearly breathless.

I felt the cool press of metal slide into my palm. “Thank you.” A flush of embarrassed heat rose up my neck. Until he mentioned the key, I’d had another lilting sensation that the prince might kiss me again. But perhaps all this racing emotion was my own. Still, Anton hadn’t removed his hand.

His eyes were heavy at the corners. “You can sleep in the room beside mine if it makes you feel safer.” My face burned warmer at the thought of spending the night so near him. Clearing his throat, he added, “Only be sure to return to your bedchamber before dawn so you won’t be found missing.”

His hand lifted away. I swayed a little on my feet, then walked out from under his arm. I’d only crossed two steps into the room of tapestries before I whirled around.

“I didn’t wish to kiss him,” I said abruptly.

“Pardon?” The prince’s brow arched.

“Today, in the council chamber, I didn’t wish to kiss your brother.” For some inexplicable reason, it felt imperative I tell Anton.

A long moment passed before he replied, “I know.”

I nodded, sensing he understood what I couldn’t say—that many times I
did
wish to kiss the emperor. When Valko teased me with kisses he never gave. When he threaded the want of them around my heart until my emotions were a mess of confusion. When I was lonely and tired from battling the demons of my past. When the auras of the palace made me sleepless at night.

For the most part I resisted him, and when I felt the pain in my back from where he had bruised me against the table, I was glad of my resistance. But despite all my resolve—despite the veil of the emperor’s true motives with me, growing thinner every day—his aura was nesting inside of mine with barbs of iron. The truth was I still craved his attention and acceptance of me.

“Good night,” Anton said. I stole a breath and nodded back my farewell. I didn’t wish to leave him. Struggling against my feelings for the prince was just as painful, just as real, as what I felt for the emperor. But I wanted Anton’s affection for a much different reason than I did his brother’s. If the prince could care for me, perhaps I still held a measure of goodness. Perhaps I could one day be forgiven for all I had done. Maybe then he could trust me and confide his secrets.

As Anton’s hand moved to shut the door, his loose sleeve fell back. There, on his inner forearm, was a mark, perhaps a smudge of ink. My own arm prickled in the same spot where he had earlier examined me.

The door closed, and I was left standing in the darkness of the tapestry room, lost in the mystery of him and my own conflicted heart.

T
HE NEXT TWO DAYS WERE A PALACE FRENZY AS
ELABORATE
preparations were made to herald the emissary. Valko was in constant motion, his eyes slightly crazed like a man withdrawing from opiates. He hurried from room to room with a list of impossible tasks and expectations while his entourage of councilors and myself trailed behind. Everyone was frantic. Their nervous energy escalated inside me. I scratched my arms and fidgeted, wanting nothing more than to crawl out of my skin and go screaming down the corridors.

Perhaps I was learning to hide my drawbacks as an Auraseer, because no one paid me—or my twitching—any heed. They were too self-absorbed with their enormous responsibilities. Even the emperor had no eyes for me as he shouted his orders. I ventured to hope Anton was right: this marriage might make Valko forget about me. If only the marriage was guaranteed. The emissary’s letter said he was coming to
discuss
the
match with Madame Valois, but nothing more. Thus Valko’s all-consuming mania to please him.

The emperor wanted everything perfect in order to meet the high standard of Estengarde, a country that thought itself more refined than us, even if Riaznin was four times larger and had a culture more tested by time.

When Valko decreed that every nobleman was to shave his beard to conform to the smooth-skinned Esten fashion, I could have swept their dropped jaws from the floor. And it didn’t escape my notice that Anton—who had been clean-shaven until the decree—began to sprout a shadow of stubble on his chin.

On the night the emissary was due to arrive, there was to be a grand ball. In order to spare more time for dancing and give the emissary a chance to freshen up from his journey, the emperor requested that his nobles feast in their own lodgings beforehand.

At last the day of the ball came, but the nobles’ elation only made me tremble harder with panic and dread. The thought of being present in a large room, packed from wall to wall with agitated people, would test my meager skills to their limits.

That morning, when Pia appeared with her tray, she was full of talk about a private banquet the emperor had ordered for the emissary in his guest rooms. Valko would not meet the Esten—a man named Floquart de Bonpré—until that evening, but he wanted him well fed with the finest Riaznian delicacies.

Luckily I’d risen early because of the energy buzzing about
the palace and slid the box bed back to hide the red, flowered door. I’d spent the last two nights sleeping in the tapestry room, but hadn’t disturbed Anton again. I didn’t dare. His closed-off aura was more pronounced than ever. I wondered how long he could maintain his practice of deep meditation, what letters he might be writing, what the book with the pale-blue binding contained, and above all else, what he might be up to tonight. He could not have known all those months ago that Morva’s Eve would fall on the day the emperor would hold such a festivity—a festivity that not only promised to test my ability, but also make me miserable with starvation.

“What do you mean you’ve brought me no breakfast?” I asked Pia. My stomach was a tight ball of nerves. Some people abstained from food when they were anxious; I, on the other hand, became ravenous. If Pia were to produce a meat pie from her apron pocket, I might have swallowed it whole, deathly aura and all.

Her mouth quirked at me. “No lady eats before a ball. I’ve brought you a special tea steeped in herbs to ensure you’re well dehydrated before the dancing begins.”

I frowned. “Why would I want that?”

“To dance?”

“No, to shrivel up like a dried fig!”

She laughed. “Oh, Sonya, please don’t tell me you’ve never been to a ball.”

I folded my arms. “Yes, as a matter of fact, we held them regularly at the convent. Each Auraseer took a twirl with a
sestra.” I’d never been so sardonic with Pia, but I couldn’t help it. No food? My body leeched of water? No wonder women had fainting spells.

My maid laughed harder, her hands clutching her sides. I realized too late I’d made a joke at the expense of all the people I’d left dead in Ormina. With lowered eyes, I cast a glance at the statue of the goddess, Feya, on my windowsill.

“There will be hundreds of ladies in attendance tonight,” she said. “How many chamber pots do you think we have in the palace? How many maids to unlace all those corsets?”

I sat back stiffly. “I will not be wearing a corset.”

“No.” Pia considered me. “But you
will
be required to attend the emperor at a celebration that is sure to last until the middle of the night.” She reached across the table and set my tea in front of me. “Trust me on this. You’ll thank me later.”

Reluctantly, I took a sip of the bitter drink and grimaced. Pia gave a satisfied smile. She leaned back and pulled an embroidered pillow to her chest, wrapping her arms around it. With a dreamy sigh, she said, “Yuri will be standing guard in the ballroom tonight, looking fine in his brushed regimentals. What I’d give to wear silk and dance in his arms.” She played with the fringe of the pillow, lost in her own imaginings.

Forgetting the rumbling in my stomach, I touched her arm. “At least you’ll be able to see him.” Even without a public feast, surely the emperor would provide his guests with refreshments and require his serving maids in attendance. “That’s something, right?” I knew Pia’s moments with Yuri were fleeting, stolen
from their busy days if they were lucky enough to cross paths.

“I suppose.” She picked at a stray thread.

My heart went out to her and the rare melancholy in her aura. Since Pia and I had begun our reading sessions together, she’d returned to her bright and contented self. And her cheerfulness intensified as she mastered every consonant and vowel in the alphabet. I’d never been more proud. Tosya would have shared in my delight to watch my friend learn so adeptly, as he had taken it upon himself to be my reading teacher among the Romska. Pia even stumbled through an entire page of the Armless Maiden story without my assistance.

“Imagine Yuri’s surprise,” I said, “when you’re able to read him a love sonnet—or better yet, write one yourself.”

A twinge of a grin teased her mouth, but didn’t remain. I sighed, wishing I could trade places with Pia. Then we’d both be happier. She could be at the center of a ball she longed to go to, and I could hide away on its outskirts.

Trying once again to lift her spirits, I presented an alternative solution. “With so many guests and so much commotion, I doubt anyone will notice one maid and one guard slip away for a few minutes. There must be some abandoned corridor where you two can share a private dance.”

Those words did the trick. Pia turned to me, eyes sparkling. Her lips curved with a radiant smile. “You’re brilliant, Sonya!” She kissed my cheek. “You deserve an extra hour of my ‘highly sought-after training.’” Her dimples caved. “You might even be able to win our game.” She referred to her favorite method of
strengthening my ability. Now that she was gaining confidence as a reader, she had advanced from studying illustrations to silently reading snippets from tragic histories, while I tried once more to guess at the content by discerning her emotional and physical responses. “Let’s hope Vladimir the Terrible doesn’t drown in a pool of his own vomit the next time we study,” she said.

I held up my hands. “That was your fault. It’s never a good idea to gorge oneself on pastries before tucking into a nice story.”

Pia gave a light shrug. “An unfortunate hazard of my occupation. Besides, they were
hazelnut
pastries. Irresistible!” She rose from the couch and smoothed her apron. “I should get going before Lenka catches us enjoying ourselves.” She rolled her eyes. “And now that you and I have reminisced over the finer points of retching, make sure to drink up your tea.”

I groaned, which made her giggle. Pia glided to the doorway on pointed toes. “I’ll wink at you from across the ballroom tonight. I’ll be the one emitting waves of
love
,” she dramatically declared, laughing at herself. She blew me a kiss and danced her way out the door.

I grinned with the lingering, sweet spell of her aura. Even a second sip of the tea didn’t sour my mood. But Lenka did. She marched in on the tail of Pia’s exit. I braced myself for an hour of callous remarks and sneers. However, none of her usual irritation was evident. I relaxed somewhat and tested her emotions for her changed mood and the triumphant way she held her head on her matchstick neck. Without a word, Lenka lifted me to my feet. At a clap of her hands, my other attending maids
entered, each bearing a box tied with silver ribbon.

“What’s all this?” I asked warily.

“New robes.” Lenka’s nostrils flared with pride. “Commissioned by His Imperial Majesty, Our Lord Emperor himself.”

My shoulders fell with understanding. Tonight Lenka would have her glory by me. I would look the part, once and for all, of the grand sovereign Auraseer.

Three hours before the ball began, my maids returned, and the copper tub was brought inside my bedroom. My skin tingled at the remembrance of who I last saw using it. The maids gave me the careful attention of a bride on her wedding day. All the cleansing, dressing, primping, and perfuming was done with a slowness that set my teeth on edge. Beyond the walls of my rooms, I felt flurries of panic at the last-minute preparations. The fact that six maids were deemed necessary to wait on me when they could be used elsewhere made me feel ridiculous. I thought of the widows living in rags in the border towns of Riaznin, scraping meals together for children who would only grow up to be soldiers, without a choice in the matter. All the while, my face was powdered, my nails trimmed, my lips stained red.

The emperor’s gift was suited to me in that the robes bore no fur trimmings. According to Lenka, Valko even insisted I wear no corset, which, for the first time, made me want one. The emperor must have known all this while that I was free of bindings. His hand had been on my waist often enough. A corset would have provided another barrier beneath my white
satin gown. But did I really expect him to make another pass at me tonight when he was so desperate to finalize his arranged marriage? He would be a fool to try.

I ran a hand across the bodice of my dress and skimmed the bones of my ribs beneath it. Even though Valko had ample reason to leave me alone, I wasn’t comforted. I didn’t trust myself to deny him, even if he didn’t make an obvious move. I hadn’t forgotten the first time we kissed.
I
had initiated that.

As Lenka continued to clothe me, I tried to bolster my courage. Anton once said I’d fared remarkably at resisting his brother. I could fare remarkably again. I could resist my own desires, as well.

My next article of beautification was a tall headdress of embroidered silk stretched over a flat crown standing six inches off my head and dangling with ropes of pearls that brushed my shoulders. Perhaps the emperor thought the pearls would be safe for me, that an oyster didn’t die when it was robbed of its jewel.

He was wrong.

And there were more on the gown itself.

Seed pearls were sewn into swirling patterns across my robes, and when the two front panels parted as I walked, a sash of crimson gossamer could be seen circling my waist.

Unlike touching the potent blood of the deceased dowager empress, the pearls only bore a dull sting. Still, I felt an echo of the oysters’ ghostlike misery. I exhaled, but their auras remained trapped inside my breast. I should be thankful. They would keep me grounded tonight, focused on one type of energy
instead of the myriad bound to come.

A large but limited number of nobles dined regularly at the palace. I had grown used to their presence, but tonight would be different. Tonight, both the first and second class of court ranks would be in attendance. I’d heard Councilor Ilyin say that would be nearly seven hundred people.

I fretted over their numbers while Lenka and her maids wrapped long locks of my hair around a heated iron until they fell in soft curls. That my hair should be unbound was another of Valko’s requests. By the time my maids were finished with me, I felt like nothing more than the emperor’s doll.

I stared in my gold-framed looking glass. I could have seen more of myself in the full-length mirror of the ballet room, but I kept that place secret. Besides, I had no desire to see any farther than the sparkling rubies at my throat—seven to match those in the emperor’s crown.

“May I go now?” I asked, eager to escape the maids’ prodding hands. The three hours they had spent in my rooms felt like ten.

As her eyes swept over me, Lenka beamed like I was Izolda reborn. “Of course. Your guard is waiting to escort you.”

I followed her to the door, but no one was outside. Lenka’s shriveled lips pinched together. She craned her neck down the corridor. “Yuri!” she hissed.

The guard who had captured Pia’s heart stood conversing at Anton’s open door. He startled, jerking his gaze in our direction. Anton’s door thudded shut.

Lenka clapped her bony hands at him. “Get down here, you idle boy!”

Yuri had the sort of ruddy skin that was always in a constant flush. Now it crept to his jawline and ears. He jogged down the hallway and bobbed nervously on his feet upon reaching us. “My apologies.” He gave me a little bow—the first time he ever had. I hoped he wouldn’t do it again. Things had always been informal between us.

With a farewell to my maids and one last bit of fussing from Lenka over some excess powder on my chin, Yuri and I set off down the long corridor and began our descent down two twirling flights of stairs. The strained repression in his aura made it difficult to breathe, let alone speak. I wanted to ask why he’d been conversing with the prince, but I kept my lips sealed. Yuri attended to more people in the palace than myself, including the emperor, so why not Anton? Still, I couldn’t brush my curiosity aside. The young guard seemed to have been infected with the prince’s air of mystery just by lingering too long at his door.

“You look very nice tonight,” he said at length.

“Thank you,” I replied, and glanced askance at him. It wasn’t that I didn’t think him sincere, but I sensed he was trying to distract me from something. Was he in on Anton’s scheme, whatever the prince meant to have happen tonight, specifically
midnight
on Morva’s Eve? The thought sent a ripple of anger through my chest. Why had Anton confided in one of his attendants, but never me?