Burning Glass (Burning Glass #1)(76)
As I opened my eyes, I caught Valko’s wistful smile. I hoped it was an omen of a nonviolent morning. “You look at home here,” he said.
“I feel at home,” I replied, thinking of the growing things of the earth and the home among them that the Romska had taught me was mine. But perhaps it was the wrong thing to say, for the emperor moved closer to my side. My heart pounded, and I resisted the urge to flinch. Instead, I kept my hands close to my body to discourage him from touching me.
We walked along a curving row of flagstones, a retinue of guards several paces behind us. Butterflies danced in our path, adding to the illusion that this was a beautiful moment we were sharing, when all I felt was the strain of pretending I could ever feel normal and truly adored by the emperor again. My tongue seemed glued to the roof of my mouth. I didn’t know how to relax without first understanding what Valko wanted from me. I prayed this wasn’t another attempt at securing me as his mistress.
We crossed a bridge over a stream—one of many trickling waterways springing off the Azanel River that ran through Torchev. The stream fed into a pond, nestled in the shade of an outdoor pavilion. Its marble columns and terraced steps gave it the appearance of a small temple. Valko motioned for me to sit beside him on a bench, while the guards waited outside the pavilion.
I clasped my hands in my lap and watched fish turn lazy circles in the pond. The sun rose higher in the sky. At length, the emperor spoke.
“I’ve been thinking about what you told me, Sonya.”
“Oh?” He must have been referring to the night of the ball, when I’d told him many things. I’m not a good person. You don’t know me. This isn’t love.
His next words sounded practiced. They came at more cost, with more humility. “You promised to show me what I could become.” He examined his hands. “You said I was enough.”
“You are.” Had he really listened to me? Did he truly believe Riaznin didn’t need to expand from sea to sea?
“The emissary said something that struck me: we have enough military in Torchev to stop the border wars with Estengarde.”
I considered Valko. The same could be said of many needs in the empire. While we feasted to excess and danced under the gold-domed shelter of the palace, so many outside our walls were starving and in need of more support. So many were taxed while the nobles were exempt. The common people were the spine of Riaznin, yet they were drafted into fighting our wars, paying too much of their own wages, crops, and furs to the empire, and receiving far too little in return. “I believe that’s true, My Lord. We have the means to spare.”
“And if we had more means . . . think what we could do then.”
The enthusiasm that had been broadening my chest and filling me with hope was swiftly punctured by doubt. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“What did I need Estengarde for?” he prodded.
The hole of doubt opened wider. “To conquer Shengli. But you agreed Riaznin was enough.”
“We are!” Valko stood and walked about the pavilion. “If we have the strength to stop the border wars in the west”—he talked quickly with animated hands—“why not send that strength to the east where our military can gather the necessary forces to triumph over those barbarians?”
I cringed, remembering how Floquart had called us savages. How conveniently each country thought themselves more civilized than their neighbors. “With all due respect, My Lord, I would hardly call a people with a superior knowledge of medicine and astrology barbaric, not to mention their unsurpassed skill in the art of warfare. The Shenglin have their own culture, their own supreme god. I don’t think peace will come by uniting with them.”
“This isn’t about peace! It’s about claiming what is duly ours. Our gods created this world. This blessed land wasn’t divided a millennium ago. The jade and timber-rich forests should be used to honor the gods who created them. The Shenglin owe us centuries of servitude to amend for their abominations. If we conquer them, they will till our land, mine our ore, and build great strongholds like Torchev across Riaznin.”
Valko picked up a handful of pebbles and tossed them, one by one, across the far reaches of the pond. “I see the day, Sonya, that Riaznin’s strength will multiply until it is enough to forge the Bayac Mountains and defeat Estengarde, as well. I understand now.” He whirled to face me, his eyes bright and alive. “This is why my bloodline brought me to the throne. This is why I was born first. Can you imagine the great honor it will bring the gods to see the world as one empire kneeling at their altars? With one emperor to usher in all that glory?”
Bile infested my stomach. It scraped up my throat. Lines of Tosya’s poetry kept coming at me and trampled Valko’s vision with one far more beautiful. “What if the gods see all of us as brothers?” Brothers didn’t seek glory through inequality, by rising up in the world off the backs of slaves. I knew well enough what life offered when you didn’t have a choice. “What if the gods wished for each of us to choose our own path?” Like the Romska who were content to live without religion, or Yuliya, whose devoutness to Feya brought her solace, or even the Shenglin, who worshipped not the seven gods of Riaznin but one all-powerful creator.
“Yes, yes, exactly!” Valko pulled me to my feet. “One family under the same gods.”
I shook my head. “How can there be lesser or greater within a family?”