I shrugged. “I evaded him for the time being.”
“You evaded him when he was in such a rage as I’d never before seen. You evaded him when your life was in danger. When I was ready to kill my brother myself, you evaded him. You did that, Sonya.” Anton hands fisted into the mattress at my side. “Explain to me how you did that.”
“I . . .” My heart thundered. I couldn’t make sense of all the mixed signals the prince gave me. He looked upset, but the heat behind his anger was supportive, not derogatory. Nothing like the kisses Valko lavished upon me after slamming my head into the wall. “I opened myself to him,” I admitted. “Completely. I found a . . . connection, and I used it to persuade him to relent.”
Anton nodded. Behind his eyes was a millstone grinding a thousand thoughts together. “Could you do it again?”
I thought of the desperation it took to bring me that far, the weight of the emperor’s emotions when they fully overtook me, the relief when I’d curbed him, when I’d saved my own life, when I’d saved his from the threat of his brother. “I’m not certain.”
Anton gripped me by the shoulders. It wasn’t the first time an Ozerov had me pinned tonight, but unlike earlier, I felt anything but trapped. “You listen to me, Sonya. You are not weak. You’re the strongest person I know. So very few are willing to stand up to Valko—and they don’t have to wrestle with the intoxication of his aura like you do. Your strength is genuine. It is priceless. And I’m willing to wager the fate of Riaznin that you can prove your strength again.”
I blinked, feeling the mantle of his hope settle over me with a power I could feast on, though it was terrifying. “What do you mean?” What was he asking me to do?
“I believe you’re more than an ordinary Auraseer. You’re meant for something more.”
I searched Anton’s emotions, so tangled in my own. “What?” The word came out as a desperate plea. I yearned to know the secret, what it was I could become. I longed to be something other than the bringer of death and pain to all those I loved.
A grin touched his lips. “I have something for you.”
Perplexed, I watched him rise and go through the midnight-blue door to his room and then return with a book. As he moved nearer, it caught the candlelight. It was the book with the pale-blue binding. The book he’d turned over the last time I’d glimpsed it so I couldn’t see the title. But now he placed it in my hands as if he was passing over a treasure. I glanced at the cover: Lament of the Gods, by Tosya Pashkov.
“Tosya?” I asked in bewilderment. “Tosya of the Romska?” Tosya who was like a brother to me?
“Tosya the poet.” Anton nodded, confirming they were one and the same.
“You know him?” I asked as he walked back to his room. I couldn’t put my lanky, freethinking friend and the somber prince together in the same space. And when had Tosya started writing poetry? As far as I knew, he’d only composed songs.
“Read the book, Sonya.” Anton retreated farther. “And do not let a soul find you with it.”
I set it down and clenched my jaws in annoyance. “You still haven’t told me what you were doing tonight.”
“Read.”
“I felt a darkness. Were you aware that someone plotted to kill the emperor?”
Anton halted at his midnight-blue door. A fragment of surprise cut past the shared aura between us, followed by a grim acceptance that made me exhale with him. He nodded slowly. “Assassination isn’t the solution. We’ll make them see that.”
“We?”
“Read. The. Book.”
A spark of candlelight twinkled in his eye as he closed the door. I was left, once again, with too many questions and not enough answers.
I thumbed the edge of Tosya’s book with a sigh, then brought it closer as I cracked open the spine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
RIAZNIN WAS A BIRD IN TOSYA’S BOOK, A WHITE—WINGED dove. The gods formed her and promised her a sky broad enough to fly in, a land vast enough that her children would never go hungry. No matter which siblings came first or second, no matter which ones were lovelier, or which were male or female, each was blessed to share the bounty of the land in equality.
Hear my song, O my children.
Stretch your wings. Embrace your birthright.
“Are you finished yet?” Anton asked the following night, peeking his head into the tapestry room. Granted, this time he preceded it with a light knock.
I rolled my eyes. Of course I wasn’t finished. The volume wasn’t thick, but the reading was dense. I’d never studied much poetry before. Ironic, since Tosya had been my reading teacher.