“Speaking of reaching the palace, at the snail’s pace we’re traveling, I don’t believe I’ll have enough body parts left for you to discuss.” Something glinted in his eye. “You’re right. There are far too many people.”
“Yes . . .” What was he thinking? “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” If only my ability allowed me to read his thoughts. I used to pretend I had a gift for that type of divining with some of the Romska caravans—it helped me earn my keep and complemented the trade of their fortune-tellers—but the truth was I was as blind to mind reading then as I was now. But what did it matter? I found myself fascinated with the mystery of Anton, with the perfect shape of his mouth, with the thinness of his upper lip, which had once made him look so stern. Somehow, despite the masses surrounding us, my sights and senses had entirely trapped on him. I released a marveled breath. How had he done it? How had I?
“Do you promise you will stay in the troika while I do something?” he asked.
My nerves flashed with anxiety. “Are you leaving me?”
“No, Sonya.” His hand squeezed my side, then carefully drew away. “I’m going to get us to the palace even faster. Would you like that?”
I nodded, though I felt unsure. My thoughts were tangled.
“Then stay thinking on me a moment longer.”
He waited, his gaze intent until I nodded again.
He brought us to a full stop before the fountain of the square, then rose and jumped out of the sleigh. I watched him in earnest as he began to unharness one of the horses with practiced hands. My emotions were better grounded, but I was frayed and exhausted. I might lose power over myself if I wasn’t careful.
“Feliks!” Anton called out. A young man with a trimmed beard and red cap emerged from the crowd. “Watch these horses and troika and bring them back to the palace when you’re able.”
Feliks nodded without question or exchange of money. His piercing blue eyes slid to me as he assisted the prince. Once the single horse was unharnessed, Feliks took the bridle of one of the others and whispered something to Anton. “Later,” was the prince’s muttered reply.
In any other circumstance, I would pause to puzzle over Feliks, how Anton knew him, how he knew he would be there, and why he trusted him with two expensive horses and a troika that belonged to the crown. But with too many emotions battling for ground within me, my questions surrounding the man quickly fled my thoughts.
That is until Anton passed him the folded slip of paper from his pocket—the letter I’d tried to read. Anton tried to be covert about the switch, but I caught a flash of white in Feliks’s palm after he shook the prince’s hand in farewell. I remembered another man then. The man hidden by the cottage door where Anton had stopped on our journey to Torchev. The man with the amethyst ring. The man who had given Anton the letter he’d just passed to Feliks.
“Sonya.” The prince rounded the sleigh and held out his hand. “Are you ready?”
A flare of panic lit inside me. I looked at the people crowded behind him. If I stepped outside the troika and any nearer to them, I would only sense their auras that much stronger.
“It’s all right,” Anton assured me.
I took a deep breath and reached for the pillow slip that held my sole belonging.
“Feliks will bring that,” he said.
I shot a wary glance at the prince’s acquaintance. “I can’t . . . I have something too valuable.”
Considering my earnest plea, Anton nodded. He grabbed his satchel from the floor of the sleigh and emptied out the food. “Put it inside.”
Quickly, I wrapped the pillow slip’s excess linen around the figurine of Feya within. Once I placed it in Anton’s satchel, he tucked his mother’s blanket on top, then closed the flap and slung the satchel over his shoulder. He reached for me. I stood and the prince placed both hands on my waist to help me down to the street. A sense of calm descended upon me at his touch. I latched on to it. Now wasn’t the time to quell my curiosity over his friend or his ally—whoever Feliks was—not when the collective feelings of several hundred people fought to stake their claim inside me.
“Make way!” Anton said, using the full force of his rich timbre. The people did as he commanded. As they murmured among themselves, I fastened my gaze on the prince’s booted heels and struggled to block out the whispered rumors, the quiet hostility of the people, and their astonishment over the new sovereign Auraseer.
Anton lifted me on the horse’s bare back, and then, using the edge of the sleigh as a springboard, he hoisted himself up to sit behind me.