Burning Glass (Burning Glass, #1)(78)

Blood warmed my cheeks and I took a sip of tea, but the hot liquid only made my blush bond to my skin. The wood crackled behind the grate of the furnace. It was altogether too stifling in here.

“Are you all right?” Anton brought his glass to his mouth. The tea made his lips glisten.

I stood and looked away. “Yes,” I answered a little breathlessly, then shook my head. “That is, no. Valko—I mean, His Imperial Majesty—was quite impossible today.”

Anton stilled. “What has he done to you?”

Fire raced up my spine at the prince’s altered mood. I eyed him. He must be imagining the worst—me swept up in another violent fit of his brother’s passion. “Nothing like that, I assure you. He was gentlemanly enough.”

Anton’s scowl told me he doubted it.

I smoothed my robe. “The night of the ball I was able to comfort Valko in the loss of his alliance. When he stayed locked in his rooms these past days, I thought . . .” I shrugged, realizing how mistaken I’d been. “I thought it was over . . . that he’d humbled himself and seen the error of his ways.”

The prince looked down and thumbed the rim of his glass. “But my brother’s thirst for power emerged stronger than ever?”

I nodded and launched into a recap of the entire morning: Valko’s plans to utilize the Torchev military, lower the draft age to include mere boys, and then march against Shengli—all to plunder our neighbor and enslave its citizens, who more likely had the might to conquer the whole of Riaznin.

Anton seemed disturbed, but not surprised. “And you think your efforts to persuade him were not sufficient?”

“I thought they were the night of the ball, but I was wrong. And what I said today never reached his ears.”

He inhaled a long breath. “You may be right.”

I folded my arms, feeling cold now. Disappointment iced over my limbs with the fear that Anton had lost his confidence in any positive influence I could have upon his brother. But it was the truth. Nothing could be done to rein in the emperor, and I wasn’t sure I could endure a life in his shadow while I watched my homeland canker in ruination.

“One thing can be certain, however,” the prince said. “You do have the power, when you truly wish it, to persuade him. I’ve seen it. It isn’t enough to control him long-term, but we don’t need that. We simply need him tempered for one critical, well-timed moment.”

I shifted on my feet as caution and excitement—even hope—fluttered inside me. “What do you have in mind?”

He took a deep drink and placed his glass on the table. “Sit down.”

I lowered myself into the chair, my hands tucked beneath my thighs until I forced them onto my lap in a show of confidence. This was it. I was on the cusp of receiving the answers I’d been waiting for. Anton needed to see I was ready to hear them.

“What did you think of Tosya’s book?” he began.

My gaze fell on the volume beside the tea glasses. “Tosya is brilliant.”

“How so?”

“The way he clears the fog away.” As Anton leaned closer, I tried to elaborate. “The people subject themselves to harsh rule and unrelenting taxation because they’ve been conditioned to believe the gods sanctioned one man to lord over them, as well as those of noble birth. But Tosya takes the faith of the people and turns it in their favor. He portrays the gods as loving of all of Riaznin’s children equally. Gods who mourn that we cannot see ourselves the way they do.”

“And this you gleaned after reading one book?”

“I’d had some of these thoughts, but Tosya distilled them for me.”

“What do you think the common people would do if they felt as you did?”

I considered the prince. “They would likely demand new rights.”

“What rights would you give them?”

This was beginning to feel like a test. Somehow that didn’t bother me. I was too zealous about the subject. “Equal privileges and punishments among the nobles and peasants. Equal taxation. The freedom to choose how to lead one’s own life, so long as it doesn’t infringe on someone else’s liberty to do the same.”

Anton rested his elbows on his knees. “What about the right to self-govern?”

My lips parted. For a long moment I couldn’t say anything. The breeze rattled the windowpanes. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Shouldn’t equality mean the people have a right to collaborate on who rules them? If they can vote, they have a voice. They could even choose to campaign for leadership.”

An ache flowered in my temple. I rubbed it, hoping to also wipe away my confusion. “But you should lead—as emperor. The people would follow you. They wouldn’t need to cast a vote about it.”

Anton tilted his head. “What if I did lead? What if I even granted the people the rights you spoke of? Could I ensure that my eldest son would uphold the new law when his time came to rule? What about his son?”

“You can’t give the government to the people!” I rose to my feet and stepped away from him. “Commoners and nobles drawing up laws together? Working side by side to enforce them? It’s preposterous! Unheard of!” Is this what he and his friends had been plotting all this time? What part did he expect me to play in it? I’d hoped the prince somehow meant to usurp his brother. But this? This was an impossible scheme of madness.