“You do need to leave,” Anton said, a little gentler this time. “The servants will be coming to clean up after my bath.”
I nodded and finally relented. And because my gaze was downcast when I walked to the door, it fell upon his desk. The top of the unfinished letter peeked out from beneath the book with the pale-blue binding. It was addressed to a Count Nicolai Rostav.
That name had a familiar ring. Was that the Nicolai that Anton had spoken of when I overheard him outside the stables? The prince had asked his companion if Nicolai was still committed. To what, I wondered.
“Come, Sonya.” Anton’s aura grew thick with a compulsion for secrecy again, as if he didn’t want me lingering near the letter. “You can’t be discovered here.”
His hand rested on top of the door. I nodded again. Now wasn’t the time to barrage him with questions. As I walked away from the desk and then under his arm, I felt a surge of yearning. His free hand moved to cover mine, and I gasped as the need between us flowed stronger. I darted my gaze up at him.
“Your key,” he said, his voice nearly breathless.
I felt the cool press of metal slide into my palm. “Thank you.” A flush of embarrassed heat rose up my neck. Until he mentioned the key, I’d had another lilting sensation that the prince might kiss me again. But perhaps all this racing emotion was my own. Still, Anton hadn’t removed his hand.
His eyes were heavy at the corners. “You can sleep in the room beside mine if it makes you feel safer.” My face burned warmer at the thought of spending the night so near him. Clearing his throat, he added, “Only be sure to return to your bedchamber before dawn so you won’t be found missing.”
His hand lifted away. I swayed a little on my feet, then walked out from under his arm. I’d only crossed two steps into the room of tapestries before I whirled around.
“I didn’t wish to kiss him,” I said abruptly.
“Pardon?” The prince’s brow arched.
“Today, in the council chamber, I didn’t wish to kiss your brother.” For some inexplicable reason, it felt imperative I tell Anton.
A long moment passed before he replied, “I know.”
I nodded, sensing he understood what I couldn’t say—that many times I did wish to kiss the emperor. When Valko teased me with kisses he never gave. When he threaded the want of them around my heart until my emotions were a mess of confusion. When I was lonely and tired from battling the demons of my past. When the auras of the palace made me sleepless at night.
For the most part I resisted him, and when I felt the pain in my back from where he had bruised me against the table, I was glad of my resistance. But despite all my resolve—despite the veil of the emperor’s true motives with me, growing thinner every day—his aura was nesting inside of mine with barbs of iron. The truth was I still craved his attention and acceptance of me.
“Good night,” Anton said. I stole a breath and nodded back my farewell. I didn’t wish to leave him. Struggling against my feelings for the prince was just as painful, just as real, as what I felt for the emperor. But I wanted Anton’s affection for a much different reason than I did his brother’s. If the prince could care for me, perhaps I still held a measure of goodness. Perhaps I could one day be forgiven for all I had done. Maybe then he could trust me and confide his secrets.
As Anton’s hand moved to shut the door, his loose sleeve fell back. There, on his inner forearm, was a mark, perhaps a smudge of ink. My own arm prickled in the same spot where he had earlier examined me.
The door closed, and I was left standing in the darkness of the tapestry room, lost in the mystery of him and my own conflicted heart.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE NEXT TWO DAYS WERE A PALACE FRENZY AS ELABORATE preparations were made to herald the emissary. Valko was in constant motion, his eyes slightly crazed like a man withdrawing from opiates. He hurried from room to room with a list of impossible tasks and expectations while his entourage of councilors and myself trailed behind. Everyone was frantic. Their nervous energy escalated inside me. I scratched my arms and fidgeted, wanting nothing more than to crawl out of my skin and go screaming down the corridors.
Perhaps I was learning to hide my drawbacks as an Auraseer, because no one paid me—or my twitching—any heed. They were too self-absorbed with their enormous responsibilities. Even the emperor had no eyes for me as he shouted his orders. I ventured to hope Anton was right: this marriage might make Valko forget about me. If only the marriage was guaranteed. The emissary’s letter said he was coming to discuss the match with Madame Valois, but nothing more. Thus Valko’s all-consuming mania to please him.