Burning Glass (Burning Glass, #1)(56)
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.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE BALLROOM WAS ABLAZE WITH CANDLELIGHT. CHANDELIERS 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.”