Burning Glass (Burning Glass #1)(121)

“You do not know the meaning of mercy, and you do not have the stomach to do what it takes to redeem yourself.”

“I will do anything!”

I looked down at him, so intolerable and wretched. “I want to hear you beg.”

“I am begging!” He clung to the skirt of my dress and kissed the silk as he buried his head in its folds. “I implore you”—he rocked on his knees—“tell me what I must do!”

I deliberated a moment longer. “Rise to your feet.”

He sniffled, chin quivering as he straightened up.

“Come with me.” I led him past the doorway of his balcony, to the ledge outside where every man, woman, and child could see him. Heaps of dead peasants lay in the distance, and more than half of the Imperial Guard had fallen. Still, the lingering soldiers relentlessly fired, the peasants marched forward with their only remaining weapons. Rocks, slings, sharp sticks—anything they could hurl between the gold bars of the gate.

“Remove your crown,” I ordered Valko. “Tell the people your reign is over. Riaznin is theirs to rule.”

His nose wrinkled in the smoke. His mouth twisted with a grimace. “Never.”

“You will, or the spirits of the dead will guide those who live to slit your throat. And when you die, the gods will torture your soul until every memory, every lie of your noble blood burns to ashes.”

With a whimper, Valko collapsed to the ground. He hid behind the balcony wall from the people. “I will die, regardless. If I abdicate, they will never allow me to live.”

“Then make a trade: your throne for the promise of a trial—the fair judgment you denied so many.” Pia. Tosya. Anton.

Valko hesitated with indecision. He wrenched into a tight ball of pain, his face blotchy as if he couldn’t draw breath. Tendons corded at his neck. Tears streaked to his jawline. Now he knew what it was to have my gift.

“Do it now, or I will kill you myself!” I said. My weapon was no saber or pistol; it was the aura of legions. And for Valko, it was threat enough.

He shuddered against a fresh swell of tears and crawled back to his feet, using the balcony wall to drag himself up. He opened his quivering mouth. His confidence was broken, his voice as thin as parchment. “People of Riaznin,” he rasped weakly. The battle didn’t cease. No one turned upward. No one noticed him.

I moved closer to his ear. “That is no way to address your countrymen. Do you feel their rage and suffering? They will not listen to the drivel of a weakling. Give them respect and relinquish with grace.”

Valko bent his neck and stared down at his hands as they fisted, then uncurled. Swiping under his eyes, he inhaled a steadying breath and lengthened his neck. “People of Riaznin!” he cried. His voice grew in power like an orator’s at a great assembly. “Cease your fire! Lay down your weapons! I have heard you!” He withdrew his saber and raised it above his head to gain their attention. Once they quieted, he placed it on the balcony wall in a gesture of truce.

The guards’ firearms slowly lowered, but the peasants showed more wariness. They kept their rocks and slings held high. “Release Tosya!” someone shouted.

Valko stole a glance at me, as if hoping that would be all that was required of him. I shook my head. He briefly closed his eyes and swallowed. “I will do more than that!” he continued. “I will abdicate and give you the freedom you desire!”

His claim was met by silence. Somewhere in the distance a baby wailed.

I stepped to the ledge of the balcony. “He has agreed to these terms on the condition you lay down your arms and proceed peaceably.” Thinking of Anton and his fervent hope for true justice, I added, “And you must give the emperor fair trial for the crimes of which he is accused.”

Valko lifted his chin, but inside he was a mess of uncertainty. “I believe you will find I ruled impartially and to the utmost of my ability!” he told them.

Someone snorted with laughter. Another shouted, “We will judge you, and you will lose your head!”

With shaking hands, the emperor reached up to hold his crown. His brows drew tight, and his jaw muscle flexed.

The populace of Torchev hushed in utter silence. The only sound was the hiss and crackle of their torch fire.

Valko’s nostrils flared as he slowly removed his crown from his head and set it beside his saber on the balcony wall. The power was gone in his voice when he replied, “I will take my chances.”

The people, the guards—everyone within reach of his declaration—exchanged astonished glances. Then a beautiful cry of victory split the night. The peasants thrust their fists in the air, embracing and dancing, while others crumpled and wept against their dead—the people who had sacrificed so much to win liberty for all of Riaznin. Boys ran back to the deeper reaches of the streets and announced to those who hadn’t heard the news, “The mighty isn’t one, but many! The monarchy is no more!”

Their auras sang a song of triumph inside me. But I wasn’t finished. “Come with me,” I said again to Valko, and led him inside his rooms, past his giant bed, the velvet cushions around his receiving table, and the marble pillars to his lobby, until we arrived at his great door. I opened it. Twenty pairs of baffled eyes greeted us. Surely they had heard Valko’s decree of abdication.

I turned to the former emperor. “Tell the guards these rooms are your prison. Unless they wish to meet their deaths by the hands of the people—their new masters—they are not to release you under any circumstances.”