Burning Glass (Burning Glass, #1)(37)
“When you leave his rooms,” he continued, “knock three times on my door so I know you are safe. I won’t come here and impose on you again.”
I nodded like a girl being sent to the gallows.
Anton angled to retrieve something from his pocket—an antiquated key. “Take this.” He set the key in my palm and folded my fingers around it. A fierce desire to protect him flooded through me. Or was it his yearning to protect me? I longed to take comfort in the sensation, but how could I when Anton had been unable to prevent this private meeting with the emperor in the first place?
“These rooms once belonged to my great-aunts,” he went on. “The chambers are interconnected, a secret long forgotten. The room beside yours is a ballet practice room, no longer in use. If Valko persists after tonight, you may wish to evade him by simply being absent. In the future, he may not use me as his guarantee to bring you to him. He may come for you himself.”
I felt the weight of the key, the press of Anton’s hands wrapped around mine. At his touch, his fervor and anxiety heightened inside me. “I’ve never seen another door,” I replied.
“It’s behind your bed. I doubt even the servants know about it.”
Had Izolda? I glanced back at the open entrance to my bedchamber.
“I must go now,” he said. “And you must hurry. Valko’s impatience will not work in your favor.” The prince squeezed my hand, then sucked in a sharp breath as he moved away to leave.
“Wait.” I stepped closer. Anton twisted to face me. I held the key to my breast. “You said to knock three times.”
“Yes.”
I shifted on my feet. “I do not know where your room is.”
A candle near him sputtered. Its light danced in his eyes. “Two doors down from you,” he answered quietly, “nearer the emperor’s rooms.”
I nodded, my fingertips tingling as they pressed into the teeth of the key. All this while he’d been so close. It felt close, anyway, even though the space between our doors was large enough to fit at least a secret ballet room. Being a neighbor to Anton brought me a measure of comfort as my panic threatened to double me over.
“I’ll stay awake until you knock,” he said. “I’ll knock back three times so you know I’ve heard you.” He swallowed and lowered his gaze before meeting mine again. A rush of complicated feelings invaded me, entwining me with warmth and intensity. “May Feya protect you, Sonya.”
His words lingered about my ears, but never entered. What I heard instead was forgive me.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I WALKED DOWN THE LONG CORRIDOR, MY NIGHT SLIPPERS sinking into the red carpet running the length of the hallway. My gaze lingered on Anton’s door as I passed by. I forced my legs onward without breaking the rhythm of my stride. The sooner I got this over with, the better.
Valko’s gilded door loomed in front of me with a relief carving of a seven-pointed sun. The supreme god, Zorog, stood in the beams of light, wearing a great crown and holding another in his outstretched arms. Seven painted rubies adorned the second crown, meant for the emperor chosen by the gods to rule Riaznin through his noble bloodline. Valko wore such a crown.
I drew in a steadying breath. He was just a man—no, just a boy—with mortal feelings. Feelings that didn’t need to ensnare me.
I rapped on the door, then clutched the panels of my robe together. I couldn’t come to him wearing just my nightdress—that would only seem an invitation—but Lenka kept my gowns in some unknown wardrobe elsewhere in the palace. The lone article of clothing she left in my room to tempt me with was my Auraseer robe. Before I’d draped it around me, I ripped out the fur lining, despite the death it marred me with and the silent screams of empathy I felt for the beasts. It was a price I’d pay again for the added layer of protection the robe gave me against the emperor.
“Enter,” Valko called from within.
I turned the latch with trembling hands and slipped inside.
My lips parted in awe. The luxury of the great hall was nothing compared to the emperor’s private chambers. His three rooms were open to each other, separated only by overhead domes and tiled columns supporting them beneath.
The room to the right held a golden bath set into the floor. The water was deep enough to stand in and so wide the emperor could float on his back. Exotic plants surrounded the bath, giving the illusion of a natural pool.
A massive four-poster bed dominated the room to the left. Sheer, veil-like curtains hung from the silk canopy, so light and fine they billowed when I shut the door.
In the middle room of Valko’s chambers and recessed two steps was an informal receiving area. A low circular table, lacquered in ebony, centered the space. Around it were an assortment of jewel-toned pillows in all shapes and sizes. There had to be more than fifty of them—some large for sitting on, others for leaning against, and some so small and ornate they could serve no practical purpose at all.
The seating furnishings surprised me. I’d expected Valko’s rooms to have fine Riaznian couches and divans. But for an emperor to lower himself to the floor in the tradition of the desert Abdarans loosened a knot of my anxiety. If I could forgive the lavishness of the largest pillow he sat upon, crimson velvet with golden tassels, I could almost imagine he was Tosya, lounging around a campfire, prodding me to tell him which Romska girls’ hearts had beaten faster after he sang them a new song. At the very least, Valko’s smile seemed as genuine as my friend’s.