Burning Glass (Burning Glass, #1)(92)
“Well, I won’t do it.” Tosya crossed his arms. “Sonya is right. Whether she manipulates Valko or you defraud and usurp him, neither method is less ugly. The emperor must be overcome for this revolution to succeed. He must be hurt. You cannot prevent that. With great change always comes some destruction of the old. ‘His throne will be timber to build new cities. His palace gold for bread,’” he quoted from his book. “You need to remember that. You need to accept it.”
I watched Anton’s haggard and beautiful eyes, and despite the fact he’d dragged me out here in the middle of the night to have a poet convince me of my part in the revolution, I wanted to kiss his cheek and lay his head against my breast.
All this debate, this worry eating away at him, filtered down to how deeply he respected humankind. He wanted liberty and equality for all of us. He didn’t want anyone to suffer—not even his brother. Anton loved Valko, I realized. Maybe not the man he was now, but the boy he once had been, the man he could have become—that he still had a hope of becoming. That was why Anton wanted me to bend the emperor’s emotions, because perhaps Valko stood a better chance at redeeming himself after abdicating than he would if Anton usurped him. The prince didn’t wish to tear from his brother the barest part of his identity—that he was Emperor Izia’s eldest son, whether or not he continued to rule Riaznin.
“I’ll do it,” I said. When both men turned to me, their auras radiated amazement. I took a steadying breath. “At least I’ll try.” The task seemed as formidable as ever.
“Sonya.” Tosya set down his tumbler. “We planned this revolution without you, and it’s going to happen regardless of your involvement. Your parents never wanted this for you.”
“They never wanted me to be free?” I managed a grin.
“They always wanted your freedom, but not at the expense of your life.”
“That’s what life is—a massive choice.” I sat up straighter, trying to reach some of Tosya’s height. “One day you, like me, won’t be able to hide any longer. The authorities will find you, and you will have to face the consequences of everything you wrote in that wonderful book. I’ve read it, Tosya, and I’m so proud of you. I fear for you, as well. But I would never wish to take away the choice you made by writing those words. That was your part in this, your stand for what you believe is right. Now I must take mine.”
He smiled sadly at me. “I suppose I always knew I couldn’t comfort you forever. You would travel to another caravan and face your nightmares alone.”
Beneath the table, Anton found my hand. His skin was warm as he laced our fingers together. His aura burned with gratitude and something deeper, something far more powerful.
“I’m not alone,” I said.
Anton and I rode the tawny draft horse back to the palace. We’d left soon after I’d declared myself a fully fledged revolutionary. The dark sky was graying, growing closer to dawn. Soon the kitchen staff would arise to bake bread and pluck feathers from the fowl that graced the emperor’s tables.
Thankfully, even in this unsettling quarter of the city, the streets were finally empty. I let my eyes fall closed and trusted Anton would hold me upright.
A little while later, when the prince must have thought I was sleeping, I felt the warm press of his lips on my head.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE NEXT MORNING, AFTER THE SNATCH OF SLEEP I’D GOTTEN in the tapestry room, I crept back through the doors to my own chambers. I’d left Pia’s clothes and her pretty floral scarf in a folded pile in the corner of my room. I knew, like clockwork, she would arrive a quarter hour before Lenka—perhaps even a few minutes earlier since she must be eager to hear about my “romantic getaway.” I nudged my tired brain and tried to dream up some scintillating lies.
But Pia never came.
I chewed at my lip and looked at the table where she’d set her tray of food last night. We’d never eaten in our hurried plan to sneak me out of the palace. But now the tray was gone. Tosya’s book of poetry was also missing. I’d left it near the statue of Feya during my prayers and forgotten to hide it, though I checked beneath the mattress of the box bed to be sure. I also rummaged through the stacks of Pia’s reading lesson books against the far wall, but it was no use. The volume of poetry was nowhere to be seen.
I flexed my hands. My nerves crawled with unease. What if Pia had taken the book last night? She could have noticed it when she came back for her tray and thought it might contain a love sonnet—the sonnet I’d encouraged her to practice for Yuri.
What if Pia had been discovered with something treasonous?
The clock on my wall chimed the hour. I hid Pia’s clothes in the bed sheets I always rumpled so it appeared I’d slept there. My gut was a cavern of anxiety by the time Lenka opened the door.
She glided in, my other attending maids behind her like a row of ducklings. I stood in the center of my antechamber, my arms crossed as I felt Lenka’s smug aura. Her skin looked particularly gaunt and stretched today over her jutting bones.
“I haven’t eaten yet,” I declared, noting my headdress and Auraseer’s robes in the arms of my other maids. What special occasion merited such finery?
The corners of Lenka’s mouth pulled slightly upward. “This is a wise day for fasting,” she replied, dismissing my words. “It will help you focus. The emperor’s welfare is in your hands.”