Burning Glass (Burning Glass, #1)(63)
I resisted the urge to hang on him like a beggar. All I wanted was one dance. More than that, I felt desperate for one, desperate that the prince take this chance to prove to me—in the presence of everyone else—that I was a good enough person to be in his association. If he would dance with me, maybe I could hope for something more between us. Or better yet, drive the darkness from my soul.
Anton took a long drink and watched the dancing resume, his lips pressed together in a firm line.
“He’s gone,” I said, referring to the emperor.
A beat later, Anton replied, “I know.”
I folded my arms. “The nobles can see we’re conversing, even if you don’t look at me. Though I’m sure no one can hear our words above the music, not from this corner, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Anton sighed and drew his brows together. Something sharp lodged in my chest near the region of my heart. “Sonya, what do you want from me?” He kept his eyes averted.
I shifted on my feet. What did I want? What was this fragile thing between us? Did it only exist when the palace was asleep and we were closed away from the world? Was it only in my imaginings that Anton cared for me in some small way—some way that would still exist if he didn’t feel the need to protect me from his brother?
“I want a dance,” I said.
“No, you don’t. You want more than a dance, more from me than what you understand. I know you. You’re reflecting something that is not your own. Let it go.”
My mouth fell open as hurt and anger suppressed my breath. More powerful was the cold and lonely part of me wanting to warm at the hidden meaning in his words. But he kept pushing me away. “I’m not a mirror, Anton. And I don’t break like glass. I’m capable of my own feelings. You told me as much. The difference between you and me is I don’t hide my emotions. The part of me that’s me has a chance to shine through.”
“Emotions alone can’t tell you the whole truth of who a person is,” he replied defensively.
“Well, they’re all I have to go by,” I quipped. “And you hide more than your emotions; you hide your potential for greatness. You would discover it if you embraced who you are.” When he didn’t respond, I lowered my voice, despite my surety no one could hear us. “You could be greater than any man in this empire.”
He set his cup down hard. The remaining liquid sloshed out. “Hush, Sonya!” he rasped. “Leave me be.”
My eyes burned with the prick of frustrated tears. I was only trying to make him see how I saw him. I whirled to leave, to return to my stump of a stool, when Anton brushed past me and asked another lady to dance, even though the quadrille was halfway over. Steam practically rose off my skin. Through the haze of my jealousy, I formed a mad idea. Resolved, I wove through the ballroom and searched for someone. Not just anyone, a man with an amethyst ring. I found him in a corner, laughing with two young noblemen.
I curtsied deeply and offered the required salutation: “Your High Nobleness.”
His eyes rounded. “Sovereign Auraseer.” The men behind him exchanged glances. Something like panic fluttered in my belly. Did I make them that nervous? Were they all anxious, or just the amethyst-ringed man?
“Are you acquainted with His Imperial Highness, Prince Anton?” I asked.
The butterfly inside me beat harder. The man shot a look at the crowd, no doubt at the prince, though I didn’t turn to see. “Every nobleman has an association with him,” he answered with a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Well”—I batted my lashes—“the prince and I have a little wager. He’s dared me to see if I’m brave enough to take my pick of the barons and ask the most handsome to dance.” I’d taken a wild guess at the man’s title. Based on his fine attire and demeanor, he seemed higher in ranking than the other noblemen at court.
The man chuckled, and the butterfly’s wings beat slower. My flattery had hit its mark. “Is that so?” He took in the length of me. “Well, I’m afraid I cannot consent.”
My brows launched up. Was I seriously being rejected again?
“Oh, come, Nicolai.” One of the young men slapped him on the shoulder.
“Nicolai?” I asked. The image of Anton’s unfinished letter blazed across my mind. “Nicolai Rostav?”
He shrugged. “The very same.”
“Let me guess. Are you denying me a dance because you’re a count and not a baron?”
His grin broadened. “I’m afraid you’ve found me out.” Stepping closer, he added, “Though if Anton might bend the rules, I’d be happy to help you win your wager.”
I put my hands in the air, palms up. “I’m afraid he won’t. If you know the prince, you’ll understand what a purist he is to his principles. I shall have to find some other, unassuming man.”
The nobles behind Count Rostav looked hopeful. I gave them a demure smile and glided away, returning to the dais.
I wouldn’t ask anyone else to dance. I’d shocked the ladies of the court enough for one night. Besides, at just the drop of his name, Nicolai had given me another piece to the puzzle of Anton. The more evidence I gained, the sooner the prince would relent to sharing his plans, the sooner he’d permit me into his ring of trust. That was better than turning circles with him to the sweetest melody. Or so I kept telling myself.