Burning Glass (Burning Glass #1)(108)

And then his beautiful face was gone, just as the great doors groaned on their hinges. I pressed back into the glass.

“Seize him!” someone commanded. With a start, I recognized the voice as Valko’s. His familiar aura met mine like poison.

Boots shuffled with the rattle of chains as the guards clapped the prince in irons. Anton didn’t groan or make a sound of struggle. I wanted to scream, to burst out and fight the men, even though I had no weapon. Instead, I squeezed my lips together and fought to keep my labored breathing silent.

“Take him to the dungeons.” Valko’s words were emotionless now that Anton was captured, as if arresting his own brother was nothing of importance. But I knew differently. I felt the triumphant smile in his aura. “He can make his bed on the muck of his favorite gypsy traitor.”

Chains clanked and boots clipped the marble floor as they guards went to leave, no more thunder in their movements, only the sad patter of an abating storm. I sensed their reluctance to lock away the prince of the empire alongside their resolve in their duty.

“Keep an eye out for the sovereign Auraseer,” Valko called after them.

I tensed at his words.

“She had no involvement in this!” Anton’s anger scorched my skin.

Valko ignited. His voice was no longer cool and apathetic. It flamed with rage. “Not warning me of the threat of a traitorous prince is all the involvement she needs to be sentenced to death!”

A shock of cold seized my body. Would Valko really kill me? I trembled as Anton’s chains clashed and scraped in his struggle to break free. “You bastard!” he shouted.

“No, brother,” Valko replied, his voice so arrogant I could almost see the sneer on his face. “Unfortunately for you, I didn’t die. I was never the changeling prince.”

The ruckus of jangling irons and angry curses grew dimmer as Anton was dragged away. I scarcely dared breathe. If I did, I would scream.

How could I help Anton now? How could I save him? How could I save anyone?

Valko’s energy lingered in the room. I felt the horrible weight of the sapphire around my neck. My fingers curled like frozen claws against the windowpanes. I fought the urge to rake my nails down the glass. Go away, I silently pleaded. I couldn’t face Valko now. I had no chance of persuading him when all I felt was my own harrowing fury and despair.

At last, the emperor’s haughty footfall receded as he swaggered out of the room, and the latch on the door clanged shut.

All of the oxygen rushed out of my lungs. My tears fell. My body slid to the floor. I burrowed into the window, my cheek pressed against the panes. The heat of the sun melded into my bones, but brought me no warmth.

Outside, a man with a flop of dark hair and sloping shoulders exited the palace. He took the long walk from the porch to the gate in quick strides.

“Coward!” I cried in a strangled whisper, and smacked the glass with my fist. I held no empathy for him, only hatred.

I forced myself to stay hidden until I felt no trace of Valko’s aura. Then I fled the ballroom and ran down the main corridor, across the amber lobby, up the twirling flight of stairs, and into my chambers. Shoving my box bed aside, I raced through the red door, the lavender door, and crumpled on the dusty planks of the nursery room.

I sobbed and shook and screamed until my throat burned dry. The painted eyes of the rocking horse and nesting dolls watched me with disinterest. I picked up the largest doll and prepared to hurl it across the room, when a rush of frenzied curiosity urged me to be silent.

I listened. Moments later, I heard the muted sounds of a door burst open, furniture knock about, and thuds hit the floor. The emperor’s guards must be raiding Anton’s chambers, only two rooms away.

My heart pounded as I clutched my hair at the scalp. How much longer could I hide? How was this serving anyone I still cared about? Because I hadn’t acted fast enough, Pia had died. When I went to plead for her life, Valko had already executed her. Now Anton and Tosya were next.

From the moment I had agreed to take part in this revolution, I knew I would have to confront Valko and use my ability to persuade him. I had hoped when the time came I’d be courageous, like the plaintively beautiful Armless Maiden. She looked down at me from the flaking mural of Riaznian fairy tales. Pia had finally read me her entire story; it took her seven long nights to stumble through the words.

As I imagined my friend’s sweet voice again, I recalled my favorite part of the tale. In her moment of trial, the maiden wasn’t brave, she was terrified. Her baby had fallen into a well, and to save him she needed to reach inside. Having no arms below the elbows, she despaired, knowing the task was impossible. But when an old man asked her to apply fortitude and faith, she did. She stopped seeing herself as the victim of her past and started believing in a future where she was whole again. Her arms grew back until her hands were restored and she was able to reach her son.

My situation was just as dire. I couldn’t have dreamed of worse circumstances in which to try to bend the emperor’s emotions—not when I was wanted for arrest, Anton and Tosya were imprisoned, and the people were coming to storm the palace.

I shook my head and rocked back and forth. There was too much pressure, too many ways my attempts could go wrong. Too many people who would die if I failed.

I looked up to the Armless Maiden. Her face was heart-shaped like Pia’s.

Try, Sonya.