Burning Glass (18 page)

After the ice broke between us, Yuri kept up a babble of
one-sided conversation—the increased number of guards outside the palace; his first impressions of Floquart de Bonpré, whom he saw arrive with his entourage of Estens; whether Pia had mentioned if she’d be serving in the ballroom or shut away in the kitchens. His nervous prattle continued until we reached the orchestra’s door to the ballroom, a more covert entrance than the great double doors, where the hundreds of guests must be lined up and ready for the grand procession.

My empty stomach fluttered with their eagerness. I hoped that would be the worst I’d experience from their auras tonight, though I doubted I would be so lucky.

“You
will
see Pia,” I said before Yuri took his leave of me. “She has a surprise in store.” I smiled, and unable to resist myself, added, “Though I doubt it will happen at
midnight
.”

A jolt of shock ran up my legs. My stomach cramped with anxiety—and something darker I couldn’t name.

Perhaps it was cruel, but I couldn’t help testing Yuri. And feeling what he did confirmed what I’d suspected—he
was
in league with Anton. Whatever they’d planned months ago was still transpiring, despite the grand ball. Perhaps Yuri was even the mysterious companion Anton had spoken with that night outside the stables.

I curtsied a farewell before the stunned guard could think to bow, and left him and his troubled aura as I entered the ballroom. My duty may be to the emperor tonight, but I also determined to discover what Anton was hiding from me.

T
HE BALLROOM WAS ABLAZE WITH CANDLELIGHT.
C
HANDELIERS
hung from the ceiling, and candelabras lined the windowsills and the mingling tables that edged the vast room. Beyond them, tall lamps rested in even intervals along the walls. The colors of Riaznin—red and gold—were strung together in silk bunting adorning the banquet tables and curtain valances and every available space.

The grandest use of Riaznin’s colors surrounded the emperor. Red velvet cloaked his dais like a luxurious carpet, and the fabric also made its way into his kaftan and the upholstery of his high-backed throne. The gold of his crown, his buttons, and his sash, which fell diagonally across his chest, broke up the blinding abundance of crimson. The last glimmer of gold was displayed on a low, satin-cushioned stool situated on the right side of the throne, like it belonged to a favorite pet. Dread knotted in my stomach. Somehow I knew the stool was for me.

Valko’s mouth stretched wide when he saw me approaching. “Welcome, Sonya,” he said, using my first name since no one but ourselves was in the room. The guests were still waiting to be admitted. I rubbed my hands against my skirt and wished to brush off my anxiety. How much longer until the people entered?

Curtsying deeply, I bided my time before I had to sit at Valko’s side. “My Lord Emperor.”

“The robes flatter you well,” he said as his gaze traveled over me. “You look remarkably fine this evening.”

“Thank you,” I replied, hoping to sound unaffected, but my blood pulsed faster and a flush of heat swept my cheeks.
Stop it
, I commanded myself.
I don’t want Valko’s attention. I won’t respond to it.

“Come take your place.” He gestured to the stool as if it represented the highest honor in Riaznin.

I struggled to focus on the deathly aura of the pearls. I struggled to focus on anything but Valko and
his
aura. Because once it became entangled with my own, I might come undone. Stepping onto the dais, I awkwardly lowered myself at his side. My shoulder touched his hand on the armrest, and that was enough. A warm tenderness settled beneath my breastbone, and with it a touch of sadness and regret. It made me turn to the emperor as if pulled by hidden strings.

“Would that you were the king’s niece in Estengarde,” he said softly.

I blinked. My heart quickened at his fervent tone. Is this
who he would be if he had been raised a country boy, and not the heir of an empire? This gentle, thoughtful boy was one I would not waste my energy resisting.

“It’s tradition that I dance with every first-class-ranking lady.” Valko swallowed like he was actually nervous, and from the way I twisted my fingers in my lap, I knew he was. “But I must confess I would rather hold you in my arms.”

I cast my gaze to the ballroom doors, where the nobles would be entering at any moment. “Is it the custom for the sovereign Auraseer to dance?”

“It is now.” He set his hand on mine, and heat prickled up my neck. “Dance with me tonight, Sonya. Promise.”

My palms itched. I felt jittery all over. Did these sensations belong to the emperor or were they mine? “What about the emissary?” I asked. “Will your favor to me upset him?”

Valko waved a hand, as if he could so easily dismiss my worry. “I’ll make some excuse to appease him.”

I tilted my head. “Forgive me, My Lord, but I don’t understand. You’ve worked so hard to prepare for this ball—for this marriage. You
do
want it, don’t you?”

As he considered me, his smile slipped away, his zealousness of the past two days returning. “I do need this alliance, Sonya. It is imperative. I intend to be a great emperor, like my father before me. The duty of our dynasty is to spread our people’s culture and religion and way of life as far across the world as possible.” He spoke like I was a councilor who needed convincing. “Riaznin’s future depends on our growth.
We must expand before we are trampled upon. I
need
Shengli.” He jabbed a finger on his leg, as if it were a map of countries. “And I need the strength of Estengarde so I can rival the force of the Shenglin army.”

Valko’s adamant passion flowed through me. My qualms over his plans for invasion, which I’d so vehemently shared with Anton, seemed a faraway concern. Still, I couldn’t grasp why the emperor would gamble with that “necessary” future because of me. “If it would risk the alliance,” I asked him carefully, “then why do you ask me to dance?”

His gaze wandered back and forth between my eyes. His mood shifted as he tentatively touched a lock of the hair I’d worn down at his request. “Because I want you nearby,” he said, then gave a small shake of his head, like that wasn’t quite the right answer and he also needed to explain it to himself. “So much of my reign is uncertain, and you make me feel safe.” His brow furrowed. “No, it’s more than that—you know every feeling that makes up who I am, and you accept it.” He bit at his lip. “You are the only thing getting me through this evening, Sonya.”

A sweet pain flowered in my heart. I yearned to comfort him, to stroke his cheek and whisper all would be well.

He brought my knuckles to his lips. “Say you will dance with me.”

The red and gold of the room seemed to blur in my periphery as my focus on Valko intensified. I felt nothing but the heady blend of our auras. “I will, My Lord.”

He leaned nearer, and just as my eyes were beginning to close in anticipation of his kiss, the ballroom doors opened. The master of ceremonies entered. Valko pulled back, hurriedly let go of my hand, and sat up taller on his throne. In a flash, he became the dignified emperor with his head held erect and his gaze forward and stoic. With his sudden grandeur swelling in my breast, I corrected my posture and sought to look just as important on my little stool.

The royal orchestra filed in on the opposite side of the ballroom, taking their seats and tuning their instruments. A moment later, the conductor took up his baton, and the strains of the grand polonaise resonated through the air. My chest tightened. This was happening. They were coming. All seven hundred guests.

The master of ceremonies beat his staff twice upon the marble floor, and my heart pounded in trepidation. I reached for the pearls of my headdress and prayed for their sting to distract me from the wave of oncoming auras.

“I hope the reversed order of arrival will be easier for you,” Valko murmured without breaking his gaze from the great doors where the first of the guests filed in at the master of ceremonies’ heralding.

I frowned, my mind fuzzy as I tried to think past my anxiety. “How do you mean?”

“Per the custom of the grand procession, I would have arrived last, and you with me as my guardian. But if we had done so, this room would already be teeming with people. You
would have to contend with their collected auras at once. Now you can acclimate to each of them one at a time.”

I stole a surprised glance at him. “Do you mean to tell me you arranged it this way . . . for
me
?” A tingling sensation spread through my chest. I’d thought Valko had wanted to appear the gracious host by reserving the last entrance for the emissary.

He gave a subtle nod. “This occasion will bring together my greatest supporters and worst accusers—a veritable recipe for danger. Is it not in my best interest to ensure my sovereign Auraseer isn’t overly tested before the evening has begun?”

I shifted on my stool, a little abashed for feeling self-important when his reasoning came down to politics. “Yes, of course, Your Majesty.”

A smile teased the corner of his mouth, making him seem all the more young and handsome. “That is what I told my councilors, anyway. In truth, Sonya, I only wish to make you as comfortable as possible.”

Valko’s gaze finally detached from the approaching nobles and slid to mine, warm with affection. The tingling in my chest returned and spread lightness through my limbs and fingers and toes.

I returned the emperor’s smile, then sucked in a sharp breath as the master of ceremonies beat his staff once again and announced more guests.

Past the great doors came the arch-marshal, the civil servants, the military officers in their regimentals, the diplomats from Shengli and Abdara with their small assembly of noble
foreigners, the bearers of Riaznian court ranks, the dukes and duchesses, counts and countesses, barons and baronesses.

As Valko had promised, their gradual entrance was far easier to bear. But that didn’t make my task simple. I had to gather all my wits about me and summon my full strength for the task at hand. Inhaling and exhaling, I reminded myself of the work I’d done with Pia to prepare for this challenge. I called up everything I’d learned.

I first studied the allegiance of the Riaznian nobles by the red and gold of their sweeping gowns and tailored kaftans. Their dress was another decree from the emperor. As for the beard decree, I caught the grumbling auras of some men with little nicks along their jaws and throats, the evidence of shaving with unpracticed hands.

I felt more than that.

Now that my hyperfocus on the emperor had subsided, a wash of new emotions and sensations tumbled into me with sheer force.

My pulse slowed as an elderly baron leaned upon his cane. It raced as a maiden twirled and showed off her dress to a young lord. I flinched when two dukes exchanged bitter glances. My stomach cramped when a lady put a hand on her waist, likely shrunk by diuretic tea. Awe and scorn mingled with my pent-up breath as the nobles stared aghast at me, observing where I sat on the dais, a place of honor that had never been reserved for a sovereign Auraseer.

As, one by one, the nobles approached the emperor’s dais
to bow and be acknowledged, I fought to contain the impulses begging for release inside me.

“Everything is hanging by a thread tonight,” Valko said in a low voice meant for only me to hear. “You must let me know how the foreign diplomats receive the Esten emissary, and how my nobles receive
him
. Here in the palace we may smile at one another, but do not forget there are wars on all borders of Riaznin.”

“I will not fail you, My Lord.” I sounded as calm and collected as the master of ceremonies when he heralded each guest, but the pressure inside me bubbled to the surface like an overflowing kettle. The dowager empress’s murderer was likely in this very room.

My hands, clutching the pearls, began to tremble. How could I do this? How could I control myself
and
guard the emperor? I swallowed hard and looked out among the finely dressed people, much greater in number than the peasants had been at the convent’s gates.

We are far from the border wars
, I reminded myself.
These guests are largely in good humor. They’re not a violent, single-minded mob. I have nothing serious to fear.

As I tried coaxing reason into my brain, I realized I was tugging the black ribbon around my wrist, the pearls of my headdress forgotten. At the thought of the convent, my imagination went wild. The Auraseers seemed to circle me like wraiths.
Something is very wrong with you
, I recalled Nadia’s accusation.
You were the ruin of me
, Yuliya would say if she had life to move
her lips. The dead peasant man joined them as they swarmed me, his skin blistered and charred from being burned to death at my hands.

A small whimper escaped me as I stared at the mass of guests in the ballroom, the scores of palace servants behind them at the walls, the guards stationed near every window, every exit. I felt them all.

After a lull of arriving guests, the master of ceremonies abruptly rapped his staff again. I startled to find I’d been rocking back and forth and pulling my hair. “His Imperial Highness, Prince Anton Ozerov.”

My head jerked to the ballroom’s entrance. Awash in candlelight, Anton stood, his kaftan black and gold and perfectly cut to his body. His emotions were shrouded, his brows drawn low in concentration. Somehow the sternness only made him look more handsome.

A warmth cascaded through my body and settled my nerves. I wasn’t the only lady in the room admiring the prince, but the reaction radiating inside me was assuredly my own.

That inexplicable certainty, that grasp on my aura, pushed back the others fighting for space within me. The ghosts of my past also fled, shying away from the luminous feeling swirling through my breast. My ribs expanded. I took a deep and sustaining breath.

“Has my brother caught your attention, Sovereign Auraseer?” the emperor said as the last of the House of Dyonovich paid their respects and strolled away from the dais. Valko wore
a light smile for me, but his jealousy scraped against my bones.

I strove to appear natural and shrugged one shoulder. “Only in that the prince is wearing gold with black, rather than gold with red like the other nobles.”

“Mmm.” Valko’s eyes darted from me to Anton, and the bone-scraping sensation dulled to a scratch. “He always insists on making a spectacle of himself.”

“Indeed, My Lord,” I replied, even though I regarded Anton’s rebellious nature as far more subtle than that. The emperor had no idea what the prince was really up to this Morva’s Eve. Then again, neither did I.

I allowed myself only one more glance at Anton, who never returned my gaze, then turned to face the orchestra. I forced my attention on their music and as far away from the prince as possible. The diversion worked, and the scratch of Valko’s suspicion abated entirely.

A moment after the prince was heralded, the murmur of guests in the ballroom silenced. Their energy rose in a crescendo of intrigue—and a dash of disdain. They had anticipated who was to come next. “His High Nobility, Monsieur Floquart de Bonpré,” the master of ceremonies announced. Anton stepped away from the double doors, not bothering to approach the dais as custom dictated, and in the place he vacated stood the emissary.

The fashion in Estengarde must have been monochromatic elegance, for the gentleman wore only pale hues of gray: his silk waistcoat; his ballooned breeches, gathered at the knee;
the hose on his legs; and his cunning heeled shoes, complete with satin bows. Lace dripped from his collar and the cuffs of his sleeves. And his hair, fastened at the nape of his neck, was flocked with an abundance of white powder.