“I’ve had enough! This isn’t a joke!” Anton’s voice was severe. “Sonya has this gift. She’s suffered enough to discover it; she doesn’t have to suffer more to prove herself to you.”
“Very well, Anton.” Tosya held up his hands. “If you say Sonya has this power, I’ll believe you because I trust you, and I trust her. But please tell me you’re aware of all the danger you’re putting her in.” He turned to me, all of his humor gone. “And please tell me you were aware of the danger before you committed yourself, because when I penned all those lofty words, I never dreamed they would put anyone in peril.”
“I haven’t committed yet.” My hands slid under my thighs.
“And she isn’t cornered,” Anton added defensively. “I’ve given her the choice.” His nostrils flared as he lowered his gaze. “Though the life she is forced to live is already stripped of any freedom.”
Swirling the ghost of kvass in his tumbler, Tosya eyed Anton. “This is why you brought her here tonight: you want me to persuade her.”
Anton didn’t deny it. He exhaled and met Tosya’s accusatory stare. Their auras fought inside me and caused my stomach to cramp. I felt like I was back in the council chamber, sitting between the prince and his brother, not the prince and his closest friend.
“Well, I won’t do it.” Tosya crossed his arms. “Sonya is right. Whether she manipulates Valko or you defraud and usurp him, neither method is less ugly. The emperor must be overcome for this revolution to succeed. He must be hurt. You cannot prevent that. With great change always comes some destruction of the old. ‘His throne will be timber to build new cities. His palace gold for bread,’” he quoted from his book. “You need to remember that. You need to accept it.”
I watched Anton’s haggard and beautiful eyes, and despite the fact he’d dragged me out here in the middle of the night to have a poet convince me of my part in the revolution, I wanted to kiss his cheek and lay his head against my breast.
All this debate, this worry eating away at him, filtered down to how deeply he respected humankind. He wanted liberty and equality for all of us. He didn’t want anyone to suffer—not even his brother. Anton loved Valko, I realized. Maybe not the man he was now, but the boy he once had been, the man he could have become—that he still had a hope of becoming. That was why Anton wanted me to bend the emperor’s emotions, because perhaps Valko stood a better chance at redeeming himself after abdicating than he would if Anton usurped him. The prince didn’t wish to tear from his brother the barest part of his identity—that he was Emperor Izia’s eldest son, whether or not he continued to rule Riaznin.
“I’ll do it,” I said. When both men turned to me, their auras radiated amazement. I took a steadying breath. “At least I’ll try.” The task seemed as formidable as ever.
“Sonya.” Tosya set down his tumbler. “We planned this revolution without you, and it’s going to happen regardless of your involvement. Your parents never wanted this for you.”
“They never wanted me to be free?” I managed a grin.
“They always wanted your freedom, but not at the expense of your life.”
“That’s what life is—a massive choice.” I sat up straighter, trying to reach some of Tosya’s height. “One day you, like me, won’t be able to hide any longer. The authorities will find you, and you will have to face the consequences of everything you wrote in that wonderful book. I’ve read it, Tosya, and I’m so proud of you. I fear for you, as well. But I would never wish to take away the choice you made by writing those words. That was your part in this, your stand for what you believe is right. Now I must take mine.”
He smiled sadly at me. “I suppose I always knew I couldn’t comfort you forever. You would travel to another caravan and face your nightmares alone.”
Beneath the table, Anton found my hand. His skin was warm as he laced our fingers together. His aura burned with gratitude and something deeper, something far more powerful.
“I’m not alone,” I said.
Anton and I rode the tawny draft horse back to the palace. We’d left soon after I’d declared myself a fully fledged revolutionary. The dark sky was graying, growing closer to dawn. Soon the kitchen staff would arise to bake bread and pluck feathers from the fowl that graced the emperor’s tables.
Thankfully, even in this unsettling quarter of the city, the streets were finally empty. I let my eyes fall closed and trusted Anton would hold me upright.
A little while later, when the prince must have thought I was sleeping, I felt the warm press of his lips on my head.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT