Behind him, smoke and the wash of orange torchlight blotted out the stars. The screams of the people turned into a chorus of dissonant wails. Their hope siphoned away until their despair combined with all the horror and anguish I felt. Tears burned my eyes.
“The loss of your father was your greatest tragedy,” I said, stunned by the revelation, my knees wobbling, the blade like ice in my hand. “You desire to rule like him in majesty, yet never suffer the weakness he succumbed to in mortality. In the end, he cowered from his noble birthright. He died without honor.”
Valko’s mood abruptly shifted. Revulsion replaced his sadness. He yanked the dagger back so it cut a red gash across my palm. I cried out. My fingers curled together as blood dripped between them.
“You are wrong!” he said, pointing the dagger heavenward. “My father honored his sanction from the gods!” As the blade arced down toward me, I threw my hands over my head. The dagger point slashed through the sleeve of my dress and bit into my skin.
“Stop!” I hissed in pain, and stumbled backward.
The emperor stepped close. A menacing calm descended upon him. “My father understood that in order for Riaznin to be great, its ruler must be mighty and unblemished, so he struck down the abhorrent lump of clay his body had become because he knew he lived on through me—that I would be mighty in his stead, and the blood of our chosen dynasty would continue to flow through my veins.”
Valko raised the dagger to my throat. My heart beat violently. I scarcely dared breathe, for even the pulsing at my neck scraped against the blade. “Your father entrusted the future of Riaznin to your strength,” I whispered, proving I’d heard him as I grappled to move past my fear. My life depended on giving myself over to Valko’s feelings. I had to employ my full energy in finding perfect compassion for him. I needed to identify with the crushing pressure he had lived with under the ever-present shadow of his dead father.
Valko’s eyes were pewter gray—hard with determination, yet shining with remorse. “Then you understand why I must strike you down. You are a thorn in my side, Sonya, a plague worse than Black Death. You make me weak, and I cannot abide weakness.”
Past his harsh and finite words, I felt his affection still burn within my breast. Although he cared for me, he had no choice but to end my life. I had gotten myself too involved and now people were dying—like they did whenever I released the darkest parts of myself.
“I understand you,” I said. Because at last I did. My aura smoothed into a looking glass.
I saw him in me. Myself in him.
My death was the only way to bring about peace. If I lived, I would only cause more destruction. My life held back the good of the empire. The world was in shambles, and it needed a resplendent leader—with no weak link to hinder his reign.
Valko sighed and shook his head sadly. “It’s a shame you couldn’t make me strong.” The tip of the dagger traced a swirl against my collarbone. He leaned in closer. His teeth dragged along my ear. “I shall miss the taste of you.”
I understand.
A mournful cry echoed distantly. My brow twitched.
Valko placed the dagger above my heart.
I understand.
Three muskets fired in succession. Pain blossomed across my belly. Had the emperor killed me already?
“Close your eyes, Sonya. I can’t bear to have you look at me that way.”
I understand.
The blade bit deeper. A trickle of warmth slid between my breasts. Why was I still breathing?
The scent of gunpowder lingered in my nostrils. More faraway cries. Where were they coming from? I could no longer remember what was happening.
The blade at my chest wavered. “Good-bye, love.” Valko squeezed my arm where he’d cut me. I sucked in a breath from the pain.
On the brink of my death, something deep, almost buried, but still pulsing within me compelled me to open my eyes. The flickering energy gained strength. It built in illumination and steeled me with courage. At last my mind cleared and I recognized the feeling—Anton’s aura living inside me, his rekindled light shattering Valko’s dark grasp.
As I lifted my gaze to the emperor, I saw no more of my reflection in him, felt no more compassion. “Put the dagger down.”
Valko’s face contorted with a faint semblance of pity. “It’s too late, Sonya.”