Some were farmers who shared detailed reports of crop failure, despite the rains and melting snow. The soil was cursed, they said, and they pleaded with the emperor to petition the gods for relief from the famine. Others wanted more than Valko’s “royal channel to the heavens.” They came meeting their monarch in the finest clothes they owned—threadbare and patched—and asked him, while observing firsthand the extravagance of his stronghold, if he would share in his plenty until the earth yielded up her fruits again.
Valko had similar responses for all them. “Be of comfort. The time of prosperity is at hand.” Or “Hold fast. The gods have spoken and declared Riaznin will flourish.”
He meant every word. I felt his surety fill my breast. But I pushed out every breath of empathy for him. His means of restoring the empire were heartless. My role was to reveal a better way—a way that no longer required his leadership. More than that, I was to make him believe it.
My gaze wandered over the nobles as I searched for Anton. I yearned to speak with him, to concoct some sort of plan for approaching the enormous task before me. He must have some ideas for slowly breaking his brother down. At least I hoped he did.
But the prince wasn’t here. I slouched a little on my stool, then chastised myself for being disappointed. It wasn’t as if we could have a treasonous conversion here, anyway. Or even a flirtatious one.
After the farmers, other people came with more grievances: quarrels with their neighbors, pleas for fortifying the villages around Torchev that didn’t have securing walls like our city. One thin-shouldered woman complained that the Azanel River was making her children sick. Refuse was dumped in the river, and she lived downstream of it. She wanted the sewer outlets diverted, or at least funds to dig a proper well.
Valko held a placid smile as he listened to her, but my fingernails dug into my legs with his grating impatience. He wouldn’t be able to brush her off as easily as he did the farmers. “I shall discuss the matter with my council,” he said at last. “It is my desire that all have clean water.” He lifted his gaze to the continuous stream of peasants while extending his ringed hand to the woman. With reluctance, she kissed it. As she left, Valko motioned for Councilor Ilyin to step forward. “Please see that this matter is addressed at our next meeting,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear.
The graying councilor bowed. “If I may, My Lord Emperor,” he said quietly, “the woman’s request is one of many in the city. If you wish to recruit a younger, healthy army, you would do well to clean the water supply.”
Valko frowned and tilted his head at him. “Councilor Ilyin, did I never abandon the beard law? By the gods, you should grow yours back.” He sat back in his throne and muttered, “I suppose something must be done about the water. We’ll discuss it later.” He waved him away.
There was a lull in the receiving line as Councilor Ilyin ambled back to the others, his hand on his smooth cheek. As the next peasant waited for the signal to advance, Valko sighed and turned to me, the seven rubies on his crown twinkling. “Such is the tedious lot of an emperor,” he said from his comfortable chair. I didn’t comment. The peasants had waited in line for hours before they were even admitted into the palace. “I’m itching to go over battle strategy with General Lazar,” he went on, “but I saw the wisdom in receiving the people today.”
He smiled and leaned a fraction closer. I tensed, wondering if he’d dare to touch me with his public watching. His gaze dropped to my clenched hands, before lifting back to study my eyes. After a beat, he said, “I’m glad you are here, Sonya. Anything is easier with you by my side.”
The emperor’s soothed aura sent a wash of warmth across my shoulders. His well-timed sincerity weighed me with guilt. I felt the swirl of conflicting emotions that plagued me the night of the ball. I did know that I helped him. He’d opened up to me and shared who he was when at his weakest. That humbling experience had forged our relationship to a deeper level. But he would never change. I had to remember that. While his fondness for me might intensify, his fundamental qualities of greed and lust for power would remain ingrained. They were the very things I needed to alter if I wanted the revolution to succeed. My stomach folded into knots. I had no idea how I would go about achieving what I’d promised.
Perhaps I should try to test Valko now, see if he could be persuaded to feel any genuine concern for these people. As I scanned the peasants for the perfect candidate to invoke the emperor’s compassion, my gaze fell on the next person in line—an elderly man leaning on a crutch. If Valko couldn’t pity him, I didn’t know whom he could.