“And what of your dream?” I asked tentatively. “You were bred as an emperor, as well as your brother. Have you truly no desire to sit on the throne?”
The prince sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “That was what I thought my life would be . . . for far too long.” His face was confined in a strange spot of shadow in the candlelit room.
I moved in closer, trying to see his eyes better. “What changed your mind?”
He scuffed his boot on the floor. “Valko lived . . . I swallowed my pride.” His brow twitched. “It tasted far more bitter than I anticipated.” With a sharp inhale, he lifted his chin to meet my gaze. “I met Tosya. He lingered around the woods of my estate every summer when his caravan rolled through. He didn’t treat me as his better; he treated me as a friend.” Anton lowered his eyes briefly. “A friend was a luxury I’d never had.” He scuffed the floor again, then straightened and ran a hand through his hair.
“Tosya asked if I could lend him books from the manor library,” the prince went on. “He pieced together quite an education by studying them over the years. I sponsored him at university and later printed his book, though nobody but him and myself knows that.” A glint of pride, sweet and noble, caused my heart to swell. “More people than you realize have read that book, Sonya.” Anton smiled, leaning closer in his earnestness. “And they have spread the most important phrase within to those who haven’t read it: The mighty isn’t one, but many.” The candlelight now burned in the prince’s eyes. “There is a revolution already brewing, Sonya. I don’t desire to be emperor anymore. I desire to be a part of the uprising.”
I felt Anton’s goodness in my soul, just as certain as the breath of rightness that filled me when I’d read Tosya’s words. I also felt such a sweep of fierce insecurity, it nearly knocked me to the ground. He can never care for me as much as he cares for this cause. Nothing will ever be as important to him. “I am Sovereign Auraseer,” I said, striving to remember my duty, though unlike Anton’s devotion to self-government, mine stemmed from compulsion, not choice. “Is that why you haven’t shared with me your vision until now? Because it is treasonous? You know that I’m required to tell Valko of any threats to his crown.”
I couldn’t fathom doing so, but I needed to know that Anton understood what was at stake by confiding in me. If I were caught with the knowledge of what I’d learned tonight, it would cost me my neck and require Dasha and Tola to take up my stead.
“I trust you,” he replied.
“This isn’t about trust! You haven’t trusted me for months! You need me now.” I crossed my arms and scrutinized him. “You only gave me that book after you saw me with the emperor the night of the ball,” I added, as if I’d caught him guilty of a great crime. “Something has changed, and you need me now.”
“You’re right,” he answered unapologetically. “I do. I care too much about your welfare to endanger you otherwise.”
Something fluctuated between our auras. He composed himself so quickly, however, that I dismissed it as my own restless gut. The revelations of the evening were taking their toll on my body.
“But you’re wrong that this isn’t also about trust,” Anton continued. “That night you proved to me you had the mettle to stand up against Valko, that your strength of will would always find a way to shine through. I also understood you had no wish to unite yourself with him.”
“I gave him compassion,” I said, feeling slightly ashamed.
“Because it was a tool of resistance—a remarkable tool! One I’d never considered.”
I turned my head away to study the intricately painted tiles of his furnace. My heart drummed in my chest. Some part of me always knew how dangerous the prince’s secrets were, yet I’d been relentless about digging them out. And now that I knew them, they might cost me my life. As I turned to meet his gaze, his eyes warmed with belief in me. I asked, “What is it you want me to do?”
He took both of my hands. He squeezed them. “Persuade Valko to give up the government.”
My brows shot upward. My mouth went paper dry. I wanted to laugh. I tried to, but Anton’s aura, rooted inside me, was sober, as if none of the rum in his tea had met his bloodstream. “Abdicate? That’s not . . . How could I possibly . . . ? You’ve lost your mind!”
“You’re the key, Sonya. With you, this revolution can succeed without bloodshed.”
I found myself yanking away from him, but he kept his grip on my hands. “You’re spectacularly wrong about me!”
“You have a power over my brother I’ve never seen the like of. He gave up Estengarde for you.”