Burning Glass (Burning Glass #1)(39)
I managed a grin to placate him, for I sensed he was trying to understand me. He didn’t. No one really could. No one knew the awful extent of my crimes. “It’s more than that,” I said before I pressed my lips together. I didn’t wish to admit to the way Yuliya haunted my thoughts or how I had left Kira and Dasha with Sestra Mirna to bury the dead.
Valko waited for me to say more, but when I didn’t, he replied, “I’m sorry if your transition here has been a difficult one”—he set his hand on my arm—“and if that’s why you are wakeful in the night.”
Under the gentle pressure of his fingers, I was filled with the same stalwart calm and steady reassurance I experienced at Anton’s touch. The emperor’s aura felt . . . sympathetic. It reverberated with the same aching sorrow and regret as mine did, even though he didn’t know my dark history.
“I’m well versed in rough transitions,” he went on, and drew in a long breath. “When I was a child and en route to the secret manor that would become my home, an innocent boy was murdered to ensure I was raised in safety.” He ran a hand through his hair and released a heavy exhale. “I’m sure you know the story.”
I nodded as I remembered what Pia had told me about Valko and the changeling prince.
The emperor withdrew his hand from my arm and picked at his thumbnail. “It’s difficult to explain the exquisite form of torture it was to grow up in a beautiful countryside manor, knowing I would one day be emperor, when I had someone else’s death to thank for that. And the pain didn’t lessen after I ascended the throne—another harsh transition. The choices I’ve made have caused even more death and suffering. That is the inevitable part of ruling Riaznin—some must be hurt so the majority survive.” He folded his hands together and glanced up at me with a sad smile. “But it doesn’t mean I’ve found it any easier to sleep at night.”
His gaze lingered upon me, not in a passionate sort of way, but in the way of a friend. “I’m glad I have found someone who understands,” he said.
For a moment, he felt his age—a boy, not much older than myself, the weight of the empire resting on his still broadening shoulders.
Perhaps Anton had misjudged Valko. He couldn’t know him well; they had been raised apart. Perhaps what the emperor needed most was a trusted companion, since he never had the closeness of a sibling.
“I understand you more than you know,” I replied. “I also attained my position due to the death of others.” As the words fell from my lips, my eyes widened with astonishment. I couldn’t believe what I’d just confessed. My hand flew to the black ribbon on my wrist. Was it the emperor’s forthcomingness that loosened my tongue or the realization that I may have found someone who could relate to a measure of the pain I’d endured?
“Izolda’s failure to protect my mother wasn’t your fault,” Valko said.
“She’s not whom I’m referring to. There was a tragedy at the convent—a fire,” I rushed on, despite my better instincts to stop speaking. “And I—I started it. It was an accident, but that doesn’t excuse my hand in it. So many Auraseers—women and young girls—would still be alive if I had been a better person.” Better trained, less stubborn, more humble. I buried my hands in the folds of my robe. “You would have a polished sovereign Auraseer at your side instead of an unrefined girl.”
A wave of shame spread up my neck to my ears. I wanted to hide, but I couldn’t tear my gaze from Valko. I scrutinized every feature of his face for an appalled reaction—a disgusted curl of his lip or admonishing slit of his eyes. I searched within myself for any physical manifestation of his reproachful aura—an angry clench of my muscles or humiliating twist of my gut. No such things were present. The shame was my own. It began to fade, however, as I mirrored the steady beat of Valko’s heart and the expanding of his chest as his lungs made room for a deep and consoling breath.
He watched me for several moments. What was he thinking? “Do you know what my father’s parting words were when he sent me away?” he asked at length.
I frowned and shook my head.
Valko lowered his voice to affect Emperor Izia’s menacing tone. “Come back an emperor or don’t come back at all.” He gave a rueful laugh. “I’m sure my father meant to forge within me a desire to return to Torchev with greatness and preparedness for the crown of our dynasty. But as a child, all I felt was the sheer threat that there was no room for failure in my life.”
“How terrible,” I murmured, though my anxiety bled through my pity for him. Was he telling me this to distance himself from the horror of my confession?
“Thank the gods I also had a mother,” he continued, softly grinning with fondness. “She left me with more hopeful words: Live your life without looking too far behind you or too far ahead.” He sighed. “I can’t say I’ve done either parent justice. Like you, I let the past torment me and the future cast a foreboding shadow. Sometimes I fear I will never live up to my destiny. But I believe my mother was right.” He shifted nearer, his eyes trapped upon mine with all the fervor of what he was trying to convey. “Though the blood of innocents has been spilled to bring you and me this life, wouldn’t we be committing a worse crime to those who died by being ungrateful for our positions? Shouldn’t we seize the present, live for now?”