Burning Glass (Burning Glass, #1)(114)
“Sonya.” Yuri’s hoarse voice bounced off the stones. “Now. We must hurry. Five minutes.” I startled as I felt him at my side. I hadn’t seen him coming in the darkness. He pressed a heavy ring of keys in my hand. “This way.” He set his hand on the small of my back and guided me forward.
We rounded a corner into a pool of torchlight. The stench of the dungeons increased tenfold. A long gallery of cells loomed in the distance. The quiet misery of countless prisoners gripped me and surpassed the terror of the upstairs servants and nobles. The prisoners’ auras held the expected hunger, pain, and affliction—but their energy was weak and without hope. Their collective despondency made me want to lie down and sleep in the rotting straw that littered the floor. It spilled out past the iron bars from what must have been their pitiful beds and refuse heaps. The dreary feeling made me never want to wake up. What was the use? Who would save me?
A burly guard kept watch and walked away from us down the gallery of cells. When he turned on his heel to pace in our direction, Yuri hurried me to a heavy oak door. Unlocked. We crept inside. The helpless aura of the prisoners abated to the extent I was able to widen my eyes and take in my new surroundings.
The room was split in two, the middle divided by a wall of bars. This place seemed to be a separate, solitary prison for the more dangerous criminals of the empire. My side of the room held two torch sconces and nothing more. The side beyond held two weary friends, who after all their years of plotting a glorious revolution had been led to this miserable fate.
Tosya sat in the far left corner on a bed of fresh straw. It hadn’t mildewed yet as he’d only arrived last night. The intervening time seemed enough to sober him more than I’d ever seen. He had his knees bent to his chest and twirled a piece of straw between his fingers like it was the most precious thing in the world. Like it was the last thing he would ever look upon.
Anton rested against the middle of the wall, his ankles crossed over each other, his aura strangely at peace. He didn’t seem to fear for his life—perhaps due to his confidence in me. Until this moment, he probably thought I was with Valko as the emperor crawled like a subservient dog at my feet. He must have imagined I’d succeeded in the hellish task he’d given me. I hesitated to disturb his calm surety, even for the promise of rescue.
But then Anton saw me. His eyes lifted to roam over my face with wonder. He knew me well enough to see what I couldn’t hide. I hadn’t overcome Valko; he’d nearly overcome me. I hadn’t persuaded the emperor to abdicate.
“Sonya.” He sat up from the wall.
The empathy in his gaze undid me. All of the fear and helplessness I’d felt with Valko as he’d tried to force me into submission came back to me now. I’d suppressed it as I fled to Anton like the needle of a compass to north. “I’m sorry,” I said and hovered near the door. “Valko tried to . . . I couldn’t . . .” A sob caught in my throat. “I’m so sorry, Anton.”
A look of sadness crossed his face. Perhaps he was disappointed. Perhaps he simply felt my pain—as if he, for the moment, were the Auraseer. He rose up on his feet with difficulty—had the guards wounded him in their struggle to bring him here?—and came to the barrier between us, to its bolted door. He reached past the bars, and I rushed to him, feeling the warmth of his arms enfold me, despite the cold iron at my chest.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, and pressed a kiss on my head.
I blinked back my emotions as I fought to awaken myself from the spell of his tenderness. “We’ve come to free you.” I pulled away. My hands trembled as I flipped through the keys for a size to match the lock. “Yuri knows one of the guards,” I explained.
Tosya stood and glanced past me. “Yuri? Is that you?”
The soldier came to my side. “Apparently a beard makes me invisible. I should have grown one long ago, but Pia . . .” His voice hitched. He cleared his throat and took the ring of keys. “Let me. Our time is running short.”
As he tried key after key, I looked to Anton and Tosya, my spirits lifting. “The peasants did not wait until tomorrow. They’re marching on the palace as we speak.” When Anton’s face fell, I said reassuringly, “This is good. The emperor planned to have you both executed in the morning.”
The prince stepped back and rubbed a hand across his jaw. Tosya quietly studied him, as if he knew what he was thinking. “This isn’t good,” Anton replied. “Our lives aren’t worth the deaths of so many. And make no mistake, the casualties will be enormous—no matter which side wins.”
I stared at him in bewilderment. “They’re coming whether you like it or not, and I won’t leave you here if the palace burns. Now is your chance to fight for the dream you’ve given these people!”
“I have been fighting, Sonya. For years. But not like this. Not with gunpowder and sabers. If that is the dream I gave, I want no part of it.”
“Will you not even defend yourself?” His obstinate idealism made me want to reach through the bars and shake him.
“Hush, you two!” Yuri struggled with another key. “You’ll alert the guards and—” His words fell silent as he put all his strength into turning the lock. His fingers went white. His veins bulged at the temple. But it was no use. “Damn!” He hit the barred door. The noise rang through the chamber with greater volume than that of my or Anton’s voice. “None of these fit.”