In my periphery, I saw Anton’s eyes widen. Had his brother truly admitted to weakness? “Who?” I asked gently.
“My councilors . . . Anton.” Valko gave a sorry laugh. “The populace of my empire.” His hand fell to his side, and he released my arms from the wall. “They think I died as a child, and they’re now ruled by an imposter. Don’t you see?” His eyes glistened with tears. “I have to show them my power, that I’m even mightier than my father.” His voice cracked. He sounded anything but mighty.
Holding his aura with my empathy, I replied, “I know what it is to feel incapable. I understand you.” I ignored my still-burning wrists and took his hand, cupping it in both of my own. “Let me be your balm, Valko. That is better than your mistress.” I kissed his hand, hoping to show him the sweetness of some other kind of companionship. “Let me be your seer. Let me reveal what you can become.”
He looked at me like I’d transformed into a living beacon. All his remaining pride shattered. He crumpled in my arms and wept like a boy. I felt the release of his emotions, like everything he had ever suffered culminated in this moment. Despite the monster he had been tonight, my heart broke for him. I cradled his head and let his sorrow escape through me.
As I met Anton’s gaze, Valko’s tears fell from my eyes. The prince sheathed his dagger. He no longer stared at me like I was lost. Because I wasn’t, I had found myself. And that finding had more implications than either of us could understand at that moment.
I didn’t sever my connection to Valko, but beyond it I sensed Anton’s aura. Within it, I confirmed that the embers in the prince’s gaze reflected hope.
A shiver ran up my spine. I didn’t know if I could bear such hope. The weight of it fell heavier than the burden of the emperor’s mourning. With such hope, I could one day forgive myself, wash the blood from Feya’s statue clean.
As Anton stepped silently back and closed the door, I still felt his faith in me like a mantle I could never remove. I shut my eyes and more tears slipped down my cheeks. I hid my face against Valko and from the dream of a purer form of redemption.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
LATER THAT NIGHT I TOOK A CANDLE AND WALKED PAST THE red door, the lavender door, and set my key to the lock of the evergreen door. The train of my nightgown swept a path through the dusty floorboards, a path I recarved every evening before I went to sleep in the bed of the tapestry room.
My legs were a bit steadier than earlier. Pia had brought me a pastry and a cup of blessedly nondiuretic tea. She seemed keen to talk about her dance with Yuri, but I made for a poor listener. Keeping Valko in check had stripped me of all my energy. The emperor and I had never returned to the ballroom. After he’d wept in my arms, he pressed a platonic kiss on my hand and walked me to my rooms before retiring to his own—alone—no mistress in tow. I’d touched two hands to my head, then my heart, giving the goddess Feya my thanks for escaping that role. She was gradually becoming more to me than the chalice of Yuliya’s death.
A flicker of energy returned to me as I turned the lock of the evergreen door, as I came even closer to Anton’s room. I searched myself for any lingering darkness, any murderous thoughts. I felt none, only a mingling of anticipation and hope. I opened the door.
At the same time, from across the tapestry room, the midnight-blue door opened. Anton stood at the threshold, backlit by the glow of candles spilling out from his bedchamber. He had removed his kaftan, but otherwise was dressed in the shirt and trousers he’d worn to the ball. His hair was beautifully soft, fallen to his cheekbones in a way that reminded me of how the wind had moved through it when he’d driven the troika.
“You didn’t knock.” Unlike the teasing cleverness of a court lady, I blurted it out, then wanted to kick myself for doing so, in case he thought he was unwelcome. I couldn’t think straight. I was too distracted by the feeling in my aura. Not dark. Most definitely not dark.
“Forgive me.” Anton’s gaze briefly lowered to my nightdress, as if realizing the impropriety with which we always seemed to meet. But it wasn’t enough to keep him away. He took another step into the tapestry room. “I need to know if you’re all right.”
I gripped my candle with both hands. I couldn’t divert my eyes from his, not when they held mine so fervently.
“Now you look at me,” I said, attempting to lift my voice with a laugh, but my words rang with the disappointment I’d felt at the ball.
Anton moved even closer, tentatively, like he was approaching a wounded animal. “How is your head?”