Burning Glass (Burning Glass #1)(103)

Pia.

An ache emerged in my throat, but I swallowed it down. I couldn’t lose myself to tears again. “I have to go,” I said. “Lenka will be looking for me.” Why had I come to Anton’s room last night? My selfishness put him in danger, too.

A sharp rapping came on his outer door. The prince and I jolted upright. I scrambled for the other side of the bed, aiming for the tapestry room, but the hinges of the outer door squeaked and the handle turned as it prepared to open.

My jaw hung. I couldn’t think. I would never make it out of here in time.

Anton’s reflexes were faster. None too gently, he tossed me across the bed to plunk down on the opposite side of the floor. I landed squarely on my rump, and a little yelp escaped me.

The door creaked open. “Good morning, brother.”

Valko. I ducked lower. My nerves flashed cold. Beneath the bed, I watched his polished black boots approach Anton’s bare feet and clip along the floorboards from across the room.

The prince cleared his throat. “Good morning”—the boots halted—“Your Imperial Majesty.”

The emperor’s boots came three steps nearer. My breath thinned as they swept close to the bed. “It’s been a busy two days,” Valko remarked casually. “The people’s reception went well, I daresay. There was that unfortunate matter about the serving maid”—he slightly rocked back on his heels, then revolved and put a little more space between himself and Anton—“but what’s done is done. It was necessary.”

I narrowed my gaze on the gleam of black leather. Why had the emperor come? Was this usual for him to barge in on Anton and ramble about tedious matters of the empire? Never mind that they regarded the death of my dearest friend.

The tendons contracted at the back of Anton’s ankles. “And what is the news of today? Is it cumbersome, as well?”

My stomach knotted from their auras. Their voices were light, but cords of tension strung between them, thicker than ever.

“On the contrary,” Valko replied, “the gods are smiling on me. Only yesterday I raised the bounty threefold on refugees from the law, and already I’ve received word that one man has been captured.” He chuckled. “Seems people can’t resist their share of a bounty hunter’s purse, especially when all that is required is the whispering of a criminal’s whereabouts.”

“Indeed,” Anton replied stiffly. “Am I to presume then that Yuri has been apprehended?”

“No, no. Someone far more valuable.” The heels of the boots snapped together, side by side. “That infamous gypsy poet.”

All my breath rushed out of me. Anton’s toes clenched white against the floor. “Tosya?” After a strained moment of silence, the prince walked past Valko, no doubt so his brother wouldn’t see the look of horror etched across his face. “Tosya . . . Pashkov, isn’t it?” Anton tried to sound disinterested, but I heard the tremor in his voice, mirroring the tremor inside him. My entire body quivered with it. He knew as well as I did that Tosya’s fate was sealed. If Pia had been executed for mere association with a traitor, there was no question the supposed instigator of the revolution would not be spared.

“The very same,” Valko answered.

Anton’s feet turned slightly toward the emperor. “And is he here now? Imprisoned?”

“I’ve seen him myself. An odd fellow. Rather too tall to be hunched over a writing table.”

The prince twisted around to fully face his brother. “If I may, My Lord, I would caution you not to execute him straightaway. He has won the favor of many countrymen, and they will demand a fair trial. You wouldn’t want any riots, not when you are seeking to boost your popularity in light of the lowered draft age.”

I silently praised Anton for his quick logic. The only card he had left to play was delaying Tosya’s execution for as long as possible. Perhaps, with a little more time, we could find a means of helping our friend escape.

The emperor shifted, leaning his weight into his left boot. “Tosya will be tried,” he said at length. “Publicly,” he added, “so all those intoxicated by his words will discover him for the defamer and blasphemer he is.”

“Good thinking. I agree that is the best recourse,” Anton replied, masterfully turning the conversation so the trial seemed to be the emperor’s idea in the first place.

“I will speak to my councilors.” The black boots clipped back to the door, first with deliberation, then they slowed, hesitating. The emperor spun around to the prince. “You haven’t seen Sonya this morning?”

I pressed my body flat to the floor. The jealousy in his aura tasted bitter on my tongue. Was this the real reason Valko had come, to see if I was here?

“No, I haven’t.” Anton didn’t miss a beat. He lazily padded toward the furnace where he kept his samovar. “Perhaps she went on a stroll through the gardens.”

“Yes . . . perhaps.”

I cringed and waited for Valko to say more—that he knew I hadn’t returned to my rooms last night, nor was I there at daybreak. But when he didn’t pursue the subject any further, I presumed Lenka had covered for me, once again.

The emperor opened the door. “If you do see her, tell her I’ve left her a gift in her antechamber. A peace offering. She’ll know why.”