Burning Glass (Burning Glass #1)(59)
The emissary advanced down the aisle of parted nobles, his entourage of similarly dressed Estens behind him, until he reached the foot of the emperor’s dais. There, he bowed with a flourish, his hand somersaulting through the air.
The emperor stood and grinned. “Monsieur de Bonpré.” Valko’s horribly affected Esten accent made me bite down a smile. “Welcome to Torchev, the heart of Riaznin.”
Floquart glanced about the room as if it summed up the city. I remembered my amazement when I’d first set eyes on the great hall. It was nothing like the emissary’s expressionless gaze upon the ballroom, an equally dazzling space. Perhaps everything was a blur, and he needed a monocle. “Very charming,” he said, his voice jarringly low in register. I’d expected the high pitch of a bell for how daintily he dressed. But beneath his fussy exterior, I noted his broad shoulders, bulging calves, and large, vein-ridden hands. His aura, above all, demanded respect. I sensed even Valko shared my intimidation, despite the emperor’s puffed-out chest.
“Please be seated,” he said to Floquart. “You must be weary from your journey.” Valko motioned to a pair of servants, who brought forth a silver chair and set it on the vacant side of the throne. I clasped my fingers in my lap, sat up higher on my stool, and tried not to feel spurned.
A wave of disgruntlement echoed from within the Riaznian nobles. Valko had broken protocol twice tonight—first by allowing me on the dais, and second by inviting a foreigner to accompany us.
The emperor was oblivious to everyone’s prejudice, and I carefully let their auras slide off to the fringes of mine. There I kept them in painstaking balance as I endeavored to hold on to all of the skill I had practiced over the past few weeks.
After the emissary was seated, Valko motioned to a servant, who brought forth two goblets on a silver tray. Giving one to Floquart, the emperor took the other in his own hand. As he raised it before the assembly, the orchestra’s grand polonaise came to an abrupt halt. Glancing about the ballroom, I noticed the majority of the guests had procured a cup in anticipation of the emperor’s toast. I turned around for a servant to bring me a glass, but their trays were empty.
“Welcome, lords and ladies of Riaznin, friends from within our borders, as well as friends from beyond!” Valko’s voice bounced off the marble floors. “I will not bore you with a long and arduous speech,” he assured them with a smile. “I know the reason you have come tonight. To celebrate! So drink with me and let the dancing begin!”
The people cheered in unison and tossed back their aqua vitae, sending a jolt of energy up my spine. At the snap of the conductor’s baton, the musicians’ bows crossed their strings to the tune of a cheerful Esten waltz. My palms flared with a zing of panic. Without thinking, I’d promised the emperor a dance, though I’d never learned more than the skirt-swaying undulations of the Romska. Leaning forward on my stool, I studied the couples as they revolved and revolved and tried to memorize the rhythm of their feet, the position of their hands.
Valko, who had returned to sit on his throne, made a slight movement. I tensed, expecting him to rise again, this time to guide me to the dance floor, but he only shifted closer to Floquart. As they engaged in a private conversation, I slouched with disappointment. How quickly the emperor had disregarded me. I tried to shrug off my frustration. It was just as well. His attentions would be dangerous with so many people watching. Besides, I had more important things to concentrate on.
Turning my attention back to the room of nobles, I studied them, felt their heightened arousal at the occasion of holding someone close in the name of a dance. I cast my awareness deeper for what might be lurking beneath their obvious emotions. I needed to be sure they didn’t bear any danger to the emperor. Fingering the pearls, I willed their sting to keep me grounded as I searched the ballroom for the foreign diplomats.
My gut clenched when I saw them. As Valko had suspected, they were not pleased. Their gazes riveted to the dais where they observed the emperor, deep in conversation with the emissary. Certainly the foreigners had drawn conclusions as to the nature of Valko’s plotting with Estengarde.
I focused in on the diplomats and absorbed every detail of their body language, every twitch of their eyes—anything visual that would help me tune myself to their auras. The surest way to ascertain their feelings would be by using touch, but I didn’t think Valko would appreciate me wandering around groping his guests tonight. And so I resigned myself to intently survey the foreigners, until their frustration formed a hard knot in my stomach. Nevertheless, I was able to loosen it after a few moments’ concentration. It seemed safe then to assume that the diplomats’ upset with the emperor, while enraged, was not lethal.
Relaxing somewhat, I cast my gaze about the room for Anton, first scanning the perimeter where people weren’t dancing. The prince was sensible. If he must attend a ball, he would use his time wisely. He’d discuss the concerns of his province with any noble who might have the means to lend him aid. Perhaps his scheme for Morva’s Eve was nothing more than that.
In my search for the prince, I found Pia at one of the banquet tables. She gave me her promised wink as she refilled a large bowl of aqua vitae. Had she found a moment alone with Yuri? I waited for her to catch my eye again so I could nod him out to her. He stood at attention on the opposite side of the ballroom. But my maid’s gaze was downcast as she mopped up a spill from the table. A nobleman moved in front of her and blocked her from view. Taking a silver cup, the man dipped it into the bowl of spirits. The candlelight glinted off of his amethyst ring. I sucked in my breath. The ring circled his smallest finger.