The people’s voices erupted in a triumphant cry. Some echoed back his words, while others chanted his name like another refrain of hope. Tosya gave a little shake of his head and spared me a glance that said he might kill me later.
I bit down a smile and revolved to face the people. Each one of them was beautiful. I breathed in their auras, and I did more, I understood them—the struggle they had waged for so long to cling to their dignity, to the whispering belief that they held enough power to govern themselves.
As they wept and cheered, Anton touched my cheek and gently turned my gaze to his. “Make no mistake, Sonya,” he said. “You are the bringer of freedom.”
His pride and adoration spread warmth through my limbs. Right there, with the world watching—but with a tenderness that made me feel secluded with him—Anton leaned down, and he kissed me.
I didn’t go light-headed or weak at the knees. Instead, my body infused with strength. That strength remained as Anton withdrew from my side and called upon a guard to open the lock of the palace gates.
I brushed my thumb once across the black ribbon on my wrist, and then I stepped forward and wrapped my fingers around the golden bars, welded together into a great door, oiled and perfectly balanced on its hinges.
I exhaled, and pulled it open.