Burning Glass (Burning Glass #1)(52)
I shook my head. My hands clenched with stubbornness. “I fear for more than myself, Anton. Some of these feelings of impending danger have to be my own! I refuse to believe I’ve attended so many council meetings without forming my own opinions and convictions.”
“I do not doubt you have, but—”
“Did you hear your brother today?” I raised my voice, cutting him off. “He means to invade Shengli! Our people are already weak from famine. We’ve lost too many to the border wars. We don’t stand a chance against the Shenglin army. Valko will strip our people of their last shreds of morale and dignity—indeed, their very lives—in order to expand the empire! And he will never be satiated.”
In the same respect, I knew Valko would never be satiated by a marriage. He would grow restless, and when he grew restless his eyes drifted to me.
The prince fell quiet. Was he finally ready to truly consider what I was saying? I looked up at him beseechingly. “The people would follow you, Anton. I know they would. You have the potential for greatness and would never stoop to cruel measures in the name of Riaznin’s glory. The empire would flourish under your reign.”
His grip on my arms softened. His gaze turned heavy, pleading. “Do not tempt me, Sonya.”
My lips parted in surprise. He spoke as if I had power over him, not the other way around.
His smell of musk and pine encircled me, and my knees went weak. Do not tempt me, Sonya echoed through my mind. Was it possible Anton’s words held double meaning? Could he truly . . . did he really long for me the way I longed for him? I gazed into the warm cast of the prince’s brown eyes.
My breath caught in stunning revelation.
I wanted Anton.
I cared for him more than I’d ever dared to admit.
We stared at each other, our chests rising and falling in cadence. My heart drummed faster and faster. My arms tingled beneath the sleeves of my nightgown, under the gentle pressure of his touch. I forgot what we were arguing about. All I understood was my deep pull to him, to his strength and goodness—the very traits I lacked and the reason I’d denied my feelings so long. Who was I to think the prince, the same boy who sought to abolish serfdom and fostered self-reliance among his province, could ever fall for someone dark and turbulent like me?
The prince’s conflicted eyes wandered over my face. In that moment, I desired something more than for him to be emperor. I desired his hands to slide around my back. His touch to surround me. I shivered with the aching need to be closer to him. My gaze dropped to his mouth. The wet air from his bath collected in a sheen of moisture above his lip. “I’ve learned to accept what can never be mine,” he said.
Our bare toes touched as I moved nearer. “Then unlearn it.”
The base of his throat ticked where his pulse beat rapidly. A new emotion scuttled across my mind. A strange curiosity. Somehow I knew it belonged to him. His hand traveled down my left arm. He turned my hand over and brushed the sensitive skin of my inner wrist. I drew in my breath as he pushed back the hem of my sleeve to my elbow.
He stared at my arm for several moments, his disappointment flooding me.
“What’s the matter?” I didn’t understand what had upset him, but it made my chest tighten, my heart compress with pain.
He dropped my arm and gave a mirthless laugh, rubbing the space between his eyes. “It’s nothing. I’m only tired.” He walked to the midnight-blue door. I’d left the key in the lock. “We should say good night.”
I held on to my arm, which had triggered his sudden mood change. “Won’t you think on what I’ve told you?”
“No.” His mouth formed a straight line. “And I ask you never to bring up the matter again.”
My eyes flew wide with hurt. What had come over Anton? A moment ago he was all warmth and tenderness. I even thought he might kiss me. What had I done to cause offense?
Would I never be good enough for him? Or did he have no desire to touch me because Valko had already staked his claim?
I locked my jaw and concealed my wounds with something stronger—my stubbornness. “Is this how it will always be?” I folded my arms. “Will things grow easier between us, or will you spend all your days avoiding me, treating me like I carry the plague?”
His brow hitched in pain; I’d pierced his armor with that. “I wish things could be different, Sonya. You must believe that.”
I bit my lip. “Why can’t they be? At least here? Without the emperor watching, surely we can be friends.” Anton must have known that giving me the key would propel me to open door after door until I found his room. He must have wanted me to.
“I suppose so,” he answered quietly, then glanced at his feet. He swiftly covered any vulnerability by forcing a light smile. “Though, in the future, I hope you learn to knock. Thank the gods you didn’t barge in a few minutes earlier.”
Heat burned to the tip of my ears as a stark image formed in my mind. I had to look away; I’d seen too much of him.
“You do need to leave,” Anton said, a little gentler this time. “The servants will be coming to clean up after my bath.”
I nodded and finally relented. And because my gaze was downcast when I walked to the door, it fell upon his desk. The top of the unfinished letter peeked out from beneath the book with the pale-blue binding. It was addressed to a Count Nicolai Rostav.