Burning Glass (Burning Glass, #1)

Some niggling speck of reason flitted through my mind. When had the emperor wronged me to such a degree that I should feel so violent?

With a nod to the conductor and a slight motion to a servant, Valko recommenced the music and summoned a goblet of aqua vitae for the emissary. Floquart’s large hand encircled the cup. His cunning mouth took delicate sips.

The serpent in me slithered as I considered the emissary. Riaznin would benefit from a union to Estengarde. The wars at our borders would cease—at least to the west. The Esten army would fortify ours. Valko could invade Shengli with such strength, whether or not that was wise.

But what did Estengarde stand to gain by allying with us? Where we were surrounded by three countries, they had the sea on all sides except one—their northeastern front with the Bayac Mountains, a natural fortress. The border wars that devastated us did little damage to them or their numbers.

The serpent inside me slid under my ribs and squeezed my lungs.

While it was true Riaznin was less fortified, we were, however, wealthy—even if that wealth did little to assist our people or give us the united culture of which the Estens were so proud. They were rich enough without us, but if I knew one thing about greed, it was that its appetite was endless.

Floquart’s eyes peered over his goblet as he drank again, this time to take in the expanse of the room. His gaze held more admiration than the first glimpse of his arrival. Whatever he saw in our treasury had tipped the scales. He may think us unrefined, but we were still gold in his pockets.

The serpent coiled up toward my heart.

Valko grinned broadly. “I am ready to dance!” he announced to anyone within earshot. Turning to Floquart, he added, “I do hope you’ll take the opportunity to become acquainted with our Riaznian beauties. And I shall do the same so you may have proof for Madame Valois that her intended is as nimble on his feet as he is in his promise to dote on her every luxury.”

Floquart nodded, his eyes trapped on mine, anticipating Valko’s next move. But the emperor wisely chose someone else—Countess Dyomin of the first-class-ranking nobles. As he led her out on the dance floor, the emissary’s shoulders relaxed. Still, there was a motive I had yet to discover in the man. It seemed the utmost importance I do it now.

But try as I might over the next few waltzes, minuets, and Valko’s rotating dance partners, I couldn’t find proof that the darkness I felt originated with Floquart. Every time my jaw clenched, my knees locked, or my nerves flared, he merely seemed bored. His eyebrows didn’t so much as twitch when horrid images surfaced in my mind.

Perhaps, with my shameful history and weakening barriers against my viler self, I needed to accept that the likeliest source of the darkness was me.

At the end of a contredanse, Valko left his partner and came to my side. He took my hand and brushed it over with his thumb. His touch burned like a kiss. Something shivered in my chest and unfurled like a flower, but it threatened to wither in the darkness still holding me captive.

“Are you ready to redeem your promise, Sovereign Auraseer?” he said. No . . . he asked me. Like a gentleman would, no demand in his voice. He asked me. Like I’d asked Anton. The flower inside me raised its head.

The niggling reason in my mind grew stronger. Floquart was watching us, lip curled and eyes narrowed. Some instinct warned I shouldn’t dance with the emperor now; I should focus on my duties. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t deny Valko like Anton denied me.

I curtsied, my hand still resting in his. “I am ready, My Lord Emperor.” Despite the swarming darkness, despite my suspicious thoughts of Floquart, I wanted this dance. I wanted, for a moment, to be just a girl.

Valko kissed my hand, which made Floquart’s eye spasm, and then guided me deep into the nest of dancing nobles. They pulled back a little to give us a wider berth, but the air still felt too dense to breathe. Taking hold of my waist and raising my hand in the hair, the emperor and I assumed the position of the waltz. My legs trembled, whether from my self-imposed starvation or the probing and judgmental auras fighting for purchase within me, I didn’t know.

“I don’t want to embarrass you, My Lord,” I said, already stumbling on my feet. “But I was never taught to dance.” Not like this.

He grinned as if my confession were the most becoming thing in the world. “Relax in my arms, Sonya, and I will carry you.” I did as he said, and like magic, we spun in a graceful circle. An amazed bubble of laughter tumbled out of me. I felt as elegant as a princess the more I fell in step with his confident lead. As we revolved and revolved, Valko gazed steadfastly upon me. His gray eyes fairly glowed from the abundant candlelight.

How kind he is. How patient.

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