Burning Glass (Burning Glass #1)(79)
Anton stood and planted himself in my path. “Why is it such a radical idea? Why should one man decide the fate of so many? How could he understand them all? He would need your abilities, but to feel the auras of hundreds of thousands of people would drive a person insane. Ruling them without that insight is enough to do so. Look at Valko.”
I rubbed the pain in my temple and twisted away from the prince. He took my arm and pulled me back. “Talk to me, Sonya.”
I shook my head, panic overwhelming me. “You won’t listen! You and your brother both have your wild visions, and neither one of you will listen to me.”
“I will. I’m listening now. Tell me why this won’t work.”
I swallowed as I remembered the fury of all the auras in Ormina, the mob of starving peasants rallying against the convent gates. “I’ve felt what the wrath of injustice does to a people,” I said. “And when they learn how deeply they’ve been wronged, and then are given the reins of such power—such shared dominion . . . Anton, it will be a massacre! They’ll seek to destroy everyone who has ever oppressed them.” I placed a hand to my stomach, imagining what that kind of energy would do to me—to those I loved. “I don’t see how this can come about peaceably. Change on that scale will mean war—among ourselves. Can you really condone that when one great man”—I looked at him beseechingly—“could carefully nudge them in a better direction? Perhaps in a century we would be prepared for a ‘people’s government.’”
Anton smiled—actually smiled—after all I’d just told him. “Would it surprise you to know I share your same concerns?” he asked. “Do you realize I’m a pacifist? Sonya, I don’t wish death on anyone in order to bring about this revolution, not even my brother. And you are right that too much change, too fast, would result in chaos. I daresay the noble lords aren’t, at present, willing to let the serfs earn their portion of the land. But if every man and woman, rich or poor, had a voice—a representative—surely we could bridge to equality over time. One thing, however, is certain: we can’t postpone this new government. If we leave the empire in Valko’s hands, there may be no Riaznin left to unite. He will bring war in his fixation to expand. He’ll have us slaughtered by the tens of thousands until no one is exempt from his draft, and his dream of glory is nothing more than a wasteland covered with bones and ash.”
“And what of your dream?” I asked tentatively. “You were bred as an emperor, as well as your brother. Have you truly no desire to sit on the throne?”
The prince sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “That was what I thought my life would be . . . for far too long.” His face was confined in a strange spot of shadow in the candlelit room.
I moved in closer, trying to see his eyes. “What changed your mind?”
He scuffed his boot on the floor. “Valko lived . . . I swallowed my pride.” His brow twitched. “It tasted far more bitter than I anticipated.” With a sharp inhale, he lifted his chin to meet my gaze. “I met Tosya. He lingered around the woods of my estate every summer when his caravan rolled through. He didn’t treat me as his better; he treated me as a friend.” Anton lowered his eyes briefly. “A friend was a luxury I’d never had.” He scuffed the floor again, then straightened and ran a hand through his hair.
“Tosya asked if I could lend him books from the manor library,” the prince went on. “He pieced together quite an education by studying them over the years. I sponsored him at university and later printed his book, though nobody but he and myself knows that.” A glint of pride, sweet and noble, caused my heart to swell. “More people than you realize have read that book, Sonya.” Anton smiled, leaning closer in his earnestness. “And they have spread the most important phrase to those who haven’t read it: The mighty isn’t one, but many.” The candlelight now burned in the prince’s eyes. “There is a revolution already brewing, Sonya. I don’t desire to be emperor anymore. I desire to be a part of the uprising.”
I felt Anton’s goodness in my soul, just as certain as the breath of rightness that filled me when I’d read Tosya’s words. But fierce insecurity also swept through me, nearly knocking me to the ground. He can never care for me as much as he cares for this cause. Nothing will ever be as important to him. “I am Sovereign Auraseer,” I said, striving to remember my duty, though unlike Anton’s devotion to self-government, mine stemmed from compulsion, not choice. “Is that why you haven’t shared your vision with me until now? Because it is treasonous? You know that I’m required to tell Valko of any threats to his crown.”
I couldn’t fathom doing so, but I needed to know that Anton understood what was at stake by confiding in me. If I were caught with the knowledge of what I’d learned tonight, it would cost me my neck and require Dasha or Kira to take up my stead.
“I trust you,” he replied.
“This isn’t about trust! You haven’t trusted me for months! You need me now.” I crossed my arms and scrutinized him. “You only gave me that book after you saw me with the emperor the night of the ball,” I added, as if I’d caught him guilty of a great crime. “Something has changed, and you need me now.”
“You’re right,” he answered unapologetically. “I do. I care too much about your welfare to endanger you otherwise.”