He sighed, his sadness pulling at my own. “Not all of my concern for you goes both ways, Sonya. You know I believe in you.”
I stopped pacing. “No, I don’t. Not truly, not fully. And everything should go both ways, even when it comes to Valko. You speak of respecting freedom, but what of his? What liberty is he given if I force his choice, assuming I’m miraculously able to do so?”
Anton spoke slowly and struggled for words. “Revolution always comes at a cost. As far as I can see, this is the least detrimental price we can pay.”
I rubbed at my face and tried to wash away the emotions overwhelming me. An unattainable task. Too many things fought for space in my mind. A trade of freedom for freedom—at too much risk, too much pressure. And all this asked by a prince who, in the end, didn’t have faith in something as simple as my feelings for him.
“You’re right.” I tugged the panels of my robe together. “It’s late. I should go.” I moved to the door.
“Sonya . . .” Anton’s voice rang with misery.
I left through the midnight-blue door without saying good night. Once alone in the tapestry room, I lay on the bed and watched the moonlight shift across the woven forests and meadows on my walls, but felt none of their beauty bring me peace.
How many times had I pushed aside my feelings for the prince? Even Pia could sense them without my gift for reading aura. I was the one who had been blind, always seeing myself below Anton, unworthy of his regard, only noticed when I needed protection. The truth was I’d fallen for him long ago on a snowy journey to the palace, before ever meeting his brother. And if deep in my heart I believed I wasn’t Anton’s reflection, despite how many times I’d berated him for not believing the same, I knew the one thing the prince couldn’t trust about me, the final wedge and wonderful truth between us.
He’d fallen for me, too.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THE NEXT DAY VALKO HELD A COUNCIL MEETING. TO MY surprise, Count Rostav was in attendance, as well as Anton. I took my usual seat between the royal brothers, while the count sat across from us. His great mop of hair made his head appear larger than the heads of the councilors seated beside him.
I shifted uncomfortably. A disconcerting energy had formed between Anton and me since last night. For once, I was just as studious as he was at avoiding his gaze. I had an equally difficult time looking at the emperor. My treasonous conversation with the prince was enough to condemn me, even if I never acted upon it.
Fortunately, Valko was so impassioned that he seemed oblivious to my awkwardness. He delved at once into his detailed plan to conquer Shengli. It was met, at first, with grumbles and wary glances from his councilors, but slowly, over the course of the afternoon, they became intoxicated with his vision for a grander Riaznin. Valko had even commissioned an artist to draw out a map without a border separating us from our neighboring country.
Upon the map, the existing townships in the cold and barren stretches of east Riaznin were illustrated with the additions of luxurious, onion-domed buildings, fortified city walls, and irrigation channels from the rivers of Shengli, which fed us new and green farmlands. Surrounding them were noble estates and bunches of little blotted figures representing Shenglin serfs, numbers scrawled above their heads ranging from the hundreds to the thousands. Closer to Torchev were towering convents and universities, centers for study of all kinds—religion, art, mathematics, philosophy. There was something here to appeal to anyone.
“Councilor Ilyin,” Valko said, grinning at the aged man across the table, “isn’t your eldest grandson a budding physician? Does he have to contend with the nobles’ archaic abhorrence to medicine? Some still believe drinking a glass of aqua vitae with a peeled clove of garlic will cure any ailment.” He chuckled with a shake of his head. Leaning forward, his eyes sparked with zeal. “What if every city had a medical lodging where for a fair price someone could receive the unparalleled care of an educated doctor? Wouldn’t that trump sweating out one’s maladies in the local hothouse?”
Councilor Ilyin’s lips pursed. His gaze returned to the map.
“And what of you, General Lazar?” The emperor looked to the sharp-cheeked man seated two chairs from Count Rostav. “You have often lamented the state of our navy and said we could better defend ourselves against Estengarde by utilizing the Artagnon Sea. How many times have you told me we should bypass the Bayac Mountains altogether to settle our quarrels with the Estens?”