THE NEXT MORNING, AFTER THE SNATCH OF SLEEP I’D GOTTEN in the tapestry room, I crept back through the doors to my own chambers. I’d left Pia’s clothes and her pretty floral scarf in a folded pile in the corner of my room. I knew, like clockwork, she would arrive a quarter hour before Lenka—perhaps even a few minutes earlier since she must be eager to hear about my “romantic getaway.” I nudged my tired brain and tried to dream up some scintillating lies.
But Pia never came.
I chewed at my lip and looked at the table where she’d set her tray of food last night. We’d never eaten in our hurried plan to sneak me out of the palace. But now the tray was gone. Tosya’s book of poetry was also missing. I’d left it near the statue of Feya during my prayers and forgotten to hide it, though I checked beneath the mattress of the box bed to be sure. I also rummaged through the stacks of Pia’s reading lesson books against the far wall, but it was no use. The volume of poetry was nowhere to be seen.
I flexed my hands. My nerves crawled with unease. What if Pia had taken the book last night? She could have noticed it when she came back for her tray and thought it might contain a love sonnet—the sonnet I’d encouraged her to practice for Yuri.
What if Pia had been discovered with something treasonous?
The clock on my wall chimed the hour. I hid Pia’s clothes in the bed sheets I always rumpled so it appeared I’d slept there. My gut was a cavern of anxiety by the time Lenka opened the door.
She glided in, my other attending maids behind her like a row of ducklings. I stood in the center of my antechamber, my arms crossed as I felt Lenka’s smug aura. Her skin looked particularly gaunt and stretched today over her jutting bones.
“I haven’t eaten yet,” I declared, noting my headdress and Auraseer’s robes in the arms of my other maids. What special occasion merited such finery?
The corners of Lenka’s mouth pulled slightly upward. “This is a wise day for fasting,” she replied, dismissing my words. “It will help you focus. The emperor’s welfare is in your hands.”
“The emperor’s welfare is always in my hands.”
“Yes, but today he will be surrounded by more than nobles. He is opening the palace to admit the public.”
“A reception for the people?” I asked, unsure if I’d understood her correctly. When she nodded, I raised my brows. These receptions once had been a monthly tradition at the palace, an opportunity for the people to lay gifts at the emperor’s feet or beseech him with their requests. But in all my days as sovereign Auraseer, Valko had never held one. Rumor persisted that he’d only done so twice during his reign. Today’s reception surely had to do with his scheming for Shengli. He wanted to appear benevolent so the people would accept the lowered draft age with grace.
“I don’t wish to fast,” I said. “Could you please send Pia up with a tray?”
Lenka angled away from me and brushed a lock of hair back into her tight bun. “I’m afraid Pia is indisposed.”
My cavern of anxiety widened to a crater. “What do you mean?”
Lenka shrugged, but I still sensed that smugness about her. “I’m sure we’ll learn soon enough.” With that vague and unsettling explanation, she clapped her hands. Two servants entered with the traveling tub that seemed to rotate between my room, Anton’s, and surely other high-ranking staff. A flock of attendants followed with steaming buckets of water and reminded me of my first day in the palace.
“Come,” Lenka said. “We haven’t much time before the emperor requires you.”
The tables in the great hall had been removed. The only remaining furniture rested on the dais: Valko’s magnificent throne and my small stool. Guards flanked the perimeter of the room and tripled the amount that had served the night of the ball. Yuri wasn’t among them, still off on his recruitment errand for the empire.
Nobles milled about and left a wide berth around the center aisle for the forthcoming people. The commoners stood in line outside the closed doors. I’d passed them when I’d entered. Their auras wove a web of resentment, desperation, and curiosity within me. I kept a hand on my headdress’s dangling pearls, but the sting brought little relief.
It was harder to meet Valko’s eyes now I’d made a pact against him. As I rose from my curtsy, he stared down at me from the height of his throne. “My Lord Emperor,” I said in greeting.
“Sonya.” His gaze softened, and he extended a jeweled hand to my stool. I lighted up the dais and took my seat.
The double doors to the great hall opened. The nobles quieted. Valko’s chest puffed beneath his brocaded kaftan.
The common people filed in, some with wide eyes as they took in the spectacular domed ceiling. Others trembled the nearer they advanced to Valko. But most wore grim looks of determination, their hands fisted, their faces set in stone.