The emissary laughed at something Valko said, and I glanced sidelong at the emperor, wishing to hear the end of the joke. He muttered it to Floquart, however, not bothering to share it with me. The anger I’d already felt at Anton multiplied as yet another Ozerov brother chose to pretend I didn’t exist. I knew it was ridiculous that I should feel so jilted, but I couldn’t help it. I was Sovereign Auraseer, but I was also a girl who had spent the day being beautified, albeit against my will, a girl who had made very few friends in her life, and now, like any other girl in this ballroom, I wanted to be seen. Admired. Talked to. Danced with—as I’d been promised I would be. Instead, though I sat on the dais in a position of esteem beside the emperor, I was trapped here in a cage of my loneliness while all the other guests were at liberty to do whatever they pleased.
My wretchedness and resentment, like yeast beneath a sprinkling of sugar, began to grow and fester. I wanted to burn out of myself all of these desires and dreams other girls had. When had I begun thinking I was entitled like them? I was an Auraseer. I had no rights, no freedom. Besides, I didn’t deserve happiness. If the Romska were wrong and the gods were real, I would one day find myself in the deepest pit of the underworld for all the wrongs I’d committed. I deserved that punishment. I was darkness personified.
My eyes grew heavy, and my heart beat a slow and tormenting rhythm. My gaze fell to the blue tracery of veins on the emperor’s wrist, where it lay on the arm of his throne. I imagined the sharp edge of a blade pressed there, like the knives Yuliya would use to cut herself. Her flowing blood would match the color of Valko’s velvet sleeve and the carpet beneath his feet.
The waltz ended, and my dark thoughts broke apart. I gave a shaky exhale. I wanted to scrub at my eyes to chase away the images of death and blood, and with them my harrowing guilt. Did I need to torture myself during the ball? Couldn’t that wait until afterward when I could be alone with the statue of Feya?
Seeking the nearest method to distract myself from myself, I slid closer to Valko, to the command of his aura, and latched on to it as I listened in on his conversation with Floquart de Bonpré.
“When Madame Valois is escorted into Torchev,” Valko said, “it will be magnificent.” He brandished his hand in the air, painting a picture. “She’ll ride in a carriage with ten perfectly matched horses. Four companies of Riaznian cavalry will accompany her, as well as all the high noble lords. Her path will be paved with roses, and the gates to the palace will open with the heralding of a thousand silver bells.”
My astonishment at the emperor’s words was the distraction I’d been hoping for. Was his marriage to Delphine agreed upon, then—and so soon? The council had arranged to convene with both the emperor and emissary tomorrow afternoon. I’d expected the terms of the union to be bargained upon then, not tonight.
“Delphine dotes on that kind of attention,” Floquart said, his knees crossed over each other in the Esten fashion. He leaned on the armrest with one elbow and motioned for a servant to fan his face. “Though I will share with you her preference for white horses spotted like a leopard. Do you breed such horses here?”
Valko angled himself to match Floquart’s artful posture. “But of course.” Deceit bled from his aura and made my pulse race. He had no idea how to procure such horses. They were native to Estengarde, and I sensed Floquart knew it.
“The Romska trade those horses every summer at Orelchelm,” I said, feeling the need to back Valko, as if a kind gesture could erase all my sins.
Floquart’s brows darted up. I realized too late I’d surely broken a rule of etiquette by trespassing upon their conversation. He squinted one eye at me, and my cheeks burned with a rush of self-consciousness. I hoped it didn’t belong to Valko, that he wasn’t ashamed I’d spoken. If so, he would have heated words with me later—maybe more. My back still twinged with pain from the violence of his last kiss.
The emperor craned his head around to look at me. My gaze flickered to the tendons on his neck, taut like Nadia’s had been when I’d locked her in the east wing of the convent. Had part of me wanted Nadia to die? How often had I imagined strangling her myself and smirked at the thought of her open-eyed, dead stare. Yuliya and I had laughed as we’d joked about it. I should have known those secret and murderous thoughts would build until I dared one day to do something reckless about them. I just didn’t realize how many lives that would cost me.
I flinched when Floquart spoke. “What does a young Auraseer know of the gypsies?” he asked. “Didn’t you spend your life in the convent at Ormina?”
My heart hammered as I tried to shake away another flood of horrible thoughts. I refused to look at Valko, for fear he would see the guilt in my countenance. It took me a moment to remember what we were talking about: I had told the emissary where the Romska traded spotted horses. “My brother has a fascination for horses,” I replied. “He wrote letters.” A lie. I had an older brother, but he had died when the Abdarans raided my hometown of Bovallen five years ago. Or so the Romska had told me. I couldn’t remember my brother’s face, either.
The emissary studied me a moment. His gaze dropped to where my shoulder pressed against the emperor’s throne. He turned a scrutinizing look on Valko, as if amazed he tolerated my close proximity. Perhaps Valko shouldn’t, not with someone like me.