My gut clenched when I saw them. As Valko had suspected, they were not pleased. Their gazes riveted to the dais where they observed the emperor, deep in conversation with the emissary. Certainly the foreigners had drawn conclusions as to the nature of Valko’s plotting with Estengarde.
I focused in on the diplomats and absorbed every detail of their body language, every twitch of their eyes—anything visual that would help me tune myself to their auras. The surest way to ascertain their feelings would be by using touch, but I didn’t think Valko would appreciate me wandering around groping his guests tonight. And so I surveyed the foreigners intently, until their frustration formed a hard knot in my stomach. Nevertheless, I was able to loosen it after a few moments’ concentration. It seemed safe then to assume that the diplomats’ upset with the emperor, while enraged, was not lethal.
Relaxing somewhat, I cast my gaze about the room for Anton, first scanning the perimeter where people weren’t dancing. The prince was sensible. If he must attend a ball, he would use his time wisely. He’d discuss the concerns of his province with any noble who might have the means to lend him aid. Perhaps his scheme for Morva’s Eve was nothing more than that.
In my search for the prince, I found Pia at one of the banquet tables. She gave me her promised wink as she refilled a large bowl of aqua vitae. Had she found a moment alone with Yuri? I waited for her to catch my eye again so I could nod him out to her. He stood at attention on the opposite side of the ballroom. But my maid’s gaze was downcast as she mopped up a spill from the table. A nobleman moved in front of her and blocked her from view. Taking a silver cup, the man dipped it into the bowl of spirits. The candlelight glinted off of his amethyst ring. I sucked in my breath. The ring circled his smallest finger.
Could he be the same man who had passed the letter to Anton on our travels? The man with the letter about Morva’s Eve?
As if he sensed I wished to see him better, the man turned around. He looked to be in his midthirties, with a lean but muscular physique and a great mop of wavy hair. All in all, he had the appearance of a brown-petaled flower. I would have passed him off as being gentle in nature if not for his pensive gaze. He took a sip of his drink, his eyes roaming over the couples spinning to the music, until they landed on a specific person.
When I saw who it was, my stomach plummeted to the soles of my satin slippers. Anton was dancing. Anton, who took no time for social pleasantries. Aloof, solemn, and pragmatic Anton had his hand on a lady’s waist, her outstretched hand in his. I took in her shining red hair, her rosy complexion, and—above all—her grace as she glided across the marble floor.
Something dark and bitter coalesced inside me. Heat flashed through my veins. Who was this woman that the prince should dance with her and never bat an eye at me unless I barged into his room?
I gritted my teeth and pulled a smug smile to my lips. Anton could dance with as many ladies as it pleased him. Did he think that would distract me from finding out what he was truly up to? If so, he was wrong, for I’d discovered something he meant to keep from me: the nobleman with the silver cup was in league with him, as well as Yuri. The nobleman’s ring and the way he’d sought Anton out from the crowd were too suspicious, and I was desperate enough to call anything evidence now.
I laced my fingers together, though every nerve in me begged to launch myself from the dais and confront Anton now. I needed to keep my cool. If I left the emperor’s side, Valko’s gaze would only follow me. I didn’t want him suspecting anything until I’d discovered what this was about. As maddening as the situation was, I had to wait and keep watch on Anton, Yuri, and the nobleman. With enough patience, I would learn more. Midnight would come. If Anton thought he could protect me from all the palace politics, he was wrong. I wasn’t the naive girl he took me to be, the simpleton he fleetingly tried to rescue from distress. Why couldn’t he be the hero to me in public? Why always behind closed doors?