“I was wrong, My Lord,” I said, fighting for breath. “I’m not all right. I’m afraid I’m not accustomed to the demands of this dance.” In truth, I was as ill as I needed him to believe, though I couldn’t determine if the mounting sickness came of starvation, my own anxiety, someone else’s energy, or if it was part of the darkness I strove to hold at bay.
Valko brought us to an immediate halt, which only made my head spin worse. “Do you need something to drink?”
“No, no, only some air.” Worried he might follow, I added, “I have a tonic—in my room.”
“I’ll send a servant.”
“No, the solitude will do me good. The weight of so many auras is difficult to endure. A little distance and a moment’s peace will make my recovery all the speedier.” How quickly the words came to my tongue, despite my light-headedness. “I’ll return soon, My Lord.” I curtsied and dashed out of the ballroom before he could talk me into staying. Surely I was the only Riaznian to ever abandon him without his dismissal, but if I didn’t go now, I would lose Anton’s trail.
Outside the doors were a handful of guards. The rest were within. The spacious lobby beyond was empty and dim with only a few lit candle stands. I studied the many branching corridors and cursed Anton for being so fast.
“Did you see which way the prince went?” I asked the guards. “The emperor wishes a word with him.” It was a stupid lie; my faint head was getting the better of me. Valko would send a servant to fetch Anton, not his sovereign Auraseer. But at the moment I couldn’t think of a better excuse.
If the guards thought me strange, they didn’t show it. Neither could I sense it from their auras, though mine was too clouded to judge them properly. The darkness inside me seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat. It grew more and more urgent with every passing moment.
A Riaznian guard furrowed his black brows in concentration. “That way?” He pointed to the right.
“No,” his neighbor replied. “It was Count Rostav who went that way.”
They went in separate directions?
One of the Esten guards, blond-haired with droopy green eyes, chuckled under his breath at the Riaznians. “Do you know where the prince went?” I asked him.
“Oui.” He smiled crookedly.
I gritted my teeth with impatience. “Will you tell me?”
He swept a gaze over my body that made me feel naked. From his penetrating eyes to Floquart’s pointed comments, it was clear Auraseers in Estengarde held no respect whatsoever. “Le dauphin négligé took that corridor.” He nodded to the one farthest left.
I didn’t bolt straightaway. The guard’s name for Anton made my feet stick to the floor. “Le dauphin négligé,” I repeated. “What does that mean?”
He licked his lips, his grin catching the other corner of his mouth. “The neglected crown prince,” he answered past his thick accent.
I frowned. “Neglected?”
The guard nodded. “So we called him in my village.”
“And where is that?”
“Montpanon. At the eastern base of the Bayacs.”
Nothing was adding up. So why was my stomach tightening like I was about to be kicked? “Are you telling me the prince lived in Estengarde?”
“That’s a matter of debate.” He leaned on one leg. “I would say yes. The Riaznian farmers would say no. There is a reason we fight.” He shrugged like it was an unavoidable fact of his life.
“And you knew he was the prince?” I asked, still bracing myself, still confused. What was the point of Anton being raised in secrecy if an entire Esten village knew about him?
“No,” he admitted. “Not until the prince left and his brother was crowned. But I will say our king knew of him. We were commanded that Trusochelm Manor was never to be touched in our wars. We avoided it like a river snakes around a rock.”
Understanding took seed inside me. Dauphin. Crown prince. “The king thought he was protecting the future emperor,” I said, voicing my revelation. Perhaps the king thought he could make peace with Izia’s successor. But then Valko took the throne and Anton remained the neglected prince. The Estens hadn’t given him a happy name.
“I suppose your king wasn’t too pleased Anton’s brother lived,” I baited the guard. It would have injured the king’s pride to realize he was thwarted after all the protection he’d offered.
“Who can say?” The guard jutted out his lower lip in the quintessential Esten shrug. “I can only tell you that after the prince left, we raided Trusochelm—and we weren’t reprimanded for it.”
I took a step back as the blow crashed into me, an icy gale tearing through the wrong season. The force of it chilled me with misgiving and made my gut fold in cramps.
I turned the guard’s words over in my mind. Why had they provoked such an ominous feeling? If the Esten king hadn’t protected Anton, he would be dead. Was the darkness inside me casting everything in a sinister shadow, when in reality there was nothing amiss? Or was Anton’s life still somehow in danger?