Burning Glass (Burning Glass #1)(43)
“Yes.” I didn’t mean to whisper, but my breath caged in my chest.
His lips curved. “I’m glad to hear it.”
A silence descended upon us and overflowed with heated energy. The kiss we had shared occupied all my thoughts. I remembered the taste of currant tea on his mouth, the sweet aroma of the smoking fir cones beneath his samovar. I had a sudden yearning to be alone with him.
“Will you sit beside me while the dancers perform?” Valko asked. “I want—”
“Yes,” my whispered answer tumbled out of me.
His grin deepened, and he finished his sentence. “I want you to keep me apprised of the diplomats’ auras.”
“Yes,” I said again, feeling my cheeks warm.
I remained with him until the dancers came. Some wore bearskins and others were dressed like hunters. When the music began, I settled into my position at the emperor’s feet. As the dance intensified—when the eyes of the courtiers and diplomats were on the hunters as they prodded the bears with spears, as they leapt over the animals to the beat of the drums and frenzied strings—Valko’s hand met the nape of my neck. He softly traced the scooped edge of my gown and the ridge of my spine. I exhaled against a swirl of light-headedness and curled my fingers in my lap.
Too soon the dance ended, and the emperor’s touch withdrew. He stood and clapped while the hunters bowed over their slaughtered prey. Without sharing any more words with me, Valko left the dais for the company of the diplomats. For a long while I sat at the foot of his empty chair, still shivering with a flurry of emotion as I struggled to understand my own feelings. Did they belong to me, or was my racing heartbeat still latched on to the emperor’s aura, to his newfound attraction to the sovereign Auraseer? He never did ask me again about the diplomats. It was just as well. I wouldn’t have been able to answer him.
I didn’t retire to my rooms after the festivities ended. I took an apple off a banquet table and wandered outside to the palace stables. The air was cool enough to frost my breath, but not turn my bones to ice. The season trembled in that tentative place between winter and spring.
I walked past stall after stall, admiring the horses, until I stopped at the gate of a beautiful white mare with a star-shaped patch of auburn on her brow. “Hello, Raina,” I said, holding out the apple.
She nickered and walked forward, chomping away at my offering. I stroked her mane with my free hand. “I’ve missed you,” I said, and brushed my nose against her coat. Her aura was peaceful. I closed my eyes and tried to trap in her smell, her graceful strength.
My thoughts, which had been so tangled up with Valko, turned to Anton. I felt the remembrance of his hands on my waist when we rode this very horse from the city square to the palace. I heard the prince’s voice, soothing me, asking me to think of him so I wouldn’t be overwhelmed by the masses. You fared remarkably, he had told me last night.
Raina ate the last of the apple. I wrapped both of my arms around her neck and tucked closer into her warmth. I wanted to stay here all night in the safety of her uncomplicated affection.
A rumble of low voices made my body jolt. Raina jerked back. She heaved a loud breath and stomped her hoof. “It’s all right, girl,” I whispered, and smoothed her coat with my hand. As the mare settled down, I perked up my ears.
“Feliks is making all the arrangements for him to come,” said the deep voice of a man. Accompanying him was the clip-clop of at least one other horse. “How was your visit with Nicolai? Is he still committed?”
A second, slightly higher male voice answered, “He thinks he can persuade Duke Krayev.”
As they spoke, I tiptoed to the exit of the stables. The voices were nearer now, though they still spoke in a hush. I reached out for their auras, but there was a delay. I’d attached myself too strongly to Raina.
A burst of laughter rang out from a different direction. I peered out of the stables. In the moonlight, a group of guards advanced toward the servants’ entrance to the palace.
“Go and join them when they enter,” the first man said in an attempt to whisper, though the low pitch of his voice rumbled with too much resonance to be quiet. I couldn’t make out either of their faces from where they stood in the stables’ shadow. “I’ll take care of the horses.”
As the shorter man handed over his reins, I retreated back inside and crawled under the gate of the nearest stall. “Shhh.” I patted a brown stallion.
Into the stables, leading two horses, came Anton. A gasp escaped my mouth, but he didn’t hear me. Crouching back against the hay, I kept to a dark corner of the stall. It wasn’t until several minutes later, after the prince had untacked the horses and left, that I came to my senses.
What was the matter with me? Why had I felt compelled to hide? Had Anton’s impulse to be secretive persuaded me, or was I trying to protect him? I sensed whatever he was doing was something he didn’t wish his brother to know about. I was Sovereign Auraseer. The prince knew my duty was to the emperor.
I thought back on the conversation I’d just overheard. Anton mentioned someone named Feliks, a name I now remembered as belonging to a man with piercing blue eyes, the same man Anton had given over the care of the troika to in the city square. But who was Nicolai, and what did Anton mean when he’d asked if that man was still committed?
Did any of this have to do with the letter Anton had been given from another mysterious man, the man with the amethyst ring? Midnight and Morva’s Eve were the only words I’d seen on that letter. Morva’s Eve was still weeks away. What was Anton planning?