Burning Glass (Burning Glass #1)(97)
I studied her, the sly bending of her aura. “You knew I left last night.”
She clasped her hands in front of her apron. “Your note never reached the coals to burn.”
Everything came back to me. The way her eyes flickered to the furnace after I’d tossed Anton’s letter behind the grate. She’d never seen Pia give me the message, but she must have discerned her involvement when I later wore her clothes. That noise Anton and I heard in the kitchens had been Lenka.
I frowned at her. “Why did you protect me?”
“Because you are Sovereign Auraseer, blessed by the gods and born to serve the holy emperor. You are young, but you can be molded. You can be great like Izolda.”
I shook my head in bewilderment. “Do you think Izolda idealized this life?” Grabbing her arm, I ushered her back to the box bed. “Look inside. Those are the marks the blessed gift left on her soul!”
Lenka didn’t peer within. She must have known what was there. “Izolda never complained of her lot. She understood the honor of sacrificing for a noble cause.”
I wanted to rattle my maid until some sense knocked into her brain. Pride was at the core of her. It always had been. “You think if I rise, you rise with me. If only you could see everyone on equal footing.”
“Such talk is revolutionary,” she spat, as if that word was enough to clap her in irons.
“It shouldn’t be.”
Her lips formed a hard line. She wouldn’t speak to me anymore—not about this. She reached once again for the laces on my dress, and once again I angled away. “I will not change into my nightgown,” I declared.
Lenka arched a brow. “Do you intend to sleep in this?”
“I intend to speak with the emperor.” And I won’t cross his threshold unless I’m fully clothed.
She huffed a sardonic laugh. “You really think he will receive you?”
Oh, my poor, miserable maid. She was the simpleton. She claimed to see so much, but she missed everything. “He will receive me,” I said.
Despite how I’d publicly defied Valko today, I knew he would forgive me, just as he had after I lost him the Estengarde alliance. His forgiveness would permit me into his rooms, and there we would frankly speak of Pia without an audience to amplify the emperor’s pride. I would save my friend. I had to.
Guards were stationed outside Valko’s door. He hadn’t sent them away because he hadn’t plotted my coming. For once, I initiated a meeting with him. The guards didn’t admit me, but neither did they turn me away. One of them, a man with long hair tied at the back of his neck, went inside to petition the emperor. I paced, not wanting to squander any time when I was sure he would let me in. He did.
Humid air greeted me. Steam rose from the bathing pool, but its warmth never reached my bones. Sprigs of rosemary and juniper needles floated on the surface and gave off a heady aroma. Valko sat on a mound of velvet cushions, wearing nothing more than a silk robe, no trousers or nightshirt beneath. His wet hair lay in dark waves, and droplets of water clung to his chest where his robe parted in a V. I recollected how I’d also barged in on Anton when he was fresh from his bath, but how I felt in this moment could not compare to then. Anger scraped me like a hot knife. Valko had wrongly imprisoned my friend. He might have prevented me from helping her in the great hall, but he would not prevent me now.
“I wish to discuss Pia Lisova,” I began, and descended the steps into the receiving area. I forced myself to curtsy.
The emperor’s eyes roamed over my dress as he evaluated my first line of defense against him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. His gaze lingered at the swell of my breasts and hips, and dark desire flowered in his aura. My brows hitched together. His altered mood deeply disconcerted me. Wasn’t he upset at all? Did he remember that he’d hit me, or was that sort of violence commonplace to him now? Did it go hand in hand with his passion?
In Valko’s lap was an open book. He snapped it shut. I drew in my breath, my heart racing when I saw its pale-blue binding. Was he the one who had taken it from my bedroom?
“This is what’s causing all the upheaval in my empire,” he said, ignoring my request as he held up the volume.
I couldn’t tear my gaze away from it. Would I be sent to the dungeons now, too?
“This is what I have to contend with,” he added, “the words of a poet—and a common one at that. A mere gypsy!” He sighed and rubbed his face. “Floquart was right about their breed.”
My jaw locked as I bit down on a defensive remark. Now wasn’t the time to persuade him to see the Romska in a kinder light, not when I might also be accused of treason and must plead for my friend who’d been accused of the same.
I waited for his condemning words, but when Valko didn’t say more about the book, I released a trembling breath and tried to push my anxiety aside. “I don’t know if you’re aware, My Lord,” I continued to implore him, “but Pia is my serving maid. I’m well acquainted with her, and I can assure you she has no sinister motives against you. Her aura is as sweet and innocent as a child’s.”
Valko tilted his head at me. There was something he was concealing. It snaked fog around the edges of my mind. “Come, Sonya.” He patted a cushion beside him.
I twisted my fingers together, but did as he commanded. I needed to appear humble if I wanted his mercy.