The emperor motioned for them to walk in front of him. Daigo followed Moria, as if buffering her from the emperor’s fury. Tyrus walked silently at her side until the emperor slowed to speak to a courtier.
“It’s all right,” Tyrus whispered. “I suggested this. I’ll fix it.”
He shot a look back at his father, part anxiety, part bewilderment. Nothing was more important to a warrior than honor, and Tyrus ought not to have impugned his to protect her. Ironically, in claiming dishonor, he was acting with honor—taking her punishment because he’d suggested that she eavesdrop.
Her true anger was directed at the emperor. The Keeper was allowed a lover. If she had rebuffed Tyrus and he’d persisted, that would be cause for his father’s disapproval. Yet if he’d merely tested her willingness . . . well, was that not what young men did? She took no offense unless they failed to understand the meaning of “no.”
Moria was too caught up in her own thoughts for more than a vague impression of the emperor’s residence, which was smaller and less conspicuous than she would have expected for a man who ruled most of the known land.
As they removed their shoes, Emperor Tatsu ordered out the servants with a brusque, “I wish to speak to my son.” They scattered as if he’d wielded a blade. Once they were gone, the emperor walked farther inside. They followed him into a room with a desk inlaid with ivory. Woodblock prints of dragons adorned the walls.
“Sit,” he said, his back to them as he looked at a print of the goddess riding a golden dragon into battle.
Tyrus lowered himself onto the nearest cushion. When Moria didn’t move, he tugged at her leg. She stepped away.
“Your son did nothing wrong,” she said. “He did not do as he claims, and I’ll not have him suffer for—”
The emperor turned. “So you’re saying he lied to me?”
Moria’s mouth closed fast.
“Moria?” Tyrus whispered. “Sit. Please.” His tone added before you get me in worse trouble.
“I was spying on your dinner party,” she said. “I offer myself for punishment and ask that you pardon Tyrus. Whatever he did, it was my fault. I . . . I seduced him.”
The emperor burst out laughing, startling Moria. “As pretty as you are, child, I cannot imagine you seducing any man. Threatening him at the point of a blade, perhaps.”
“Father,” Tyrus began, rising. “I apologize for her outburst. She’s unaccustomed—”
“—to matters and manners of court.” Emperor Tatsu waved Tyrus down. “I’m well aware of that. She has spirit and honor. You choose your companions well, Tyrus. Though, if I truly thought you had brought her to the palace grounds to seduce her by moonlight, I would be as angry as I pretended. Now sit.” He turned to Daigo. “You, too. While some would wish me to add comportment lessons to your sword fighting, the truth of the world, child, is that some of us are above such niceties. You are a Keeper. Position comes with privilege, and none greater than the ability to speak your mind. The sword lessons will serve you better. Now, I understand you are frustrated by the situation in Fairview. You don’t believe enough is being done.”
“No,” Tyrus said. “If anyone said—”
“I do not need tattling tongues to tell me what anyone can plainly see. The Keeper is angry and frustrated. She throws herself into sparring and eschews the comforts and entertainments of the court. Her sister is equally frustrated, in her quiet way, losing herself in her studies instead. If you had sent Moria to eavesdrop on treaty negotiations, the punishment for both of you would be severe. But you sent her to prove that I was indeed making progress on the matter of Alvar Kitsune.”
When neither said a word, the emperor pulled the low chair from his desk and sat on it.
“Yet that doesn’t truly help, does it?” he continued. “What concerns her immediately is not the fate of the former marshal but the fate of the children. And on that, the news is less heartening.” He turned to Moria. “I have sent spies to assess the situation. One on the very night I learned of the events in Fairview, another two days following. Neither has returned. Presumably they are dead or captured. Alvar expected them. That is the problem with fighting a man who knows me so well.”
“So what now?” Moria asked.
Tyrus cleared his throat.
“I mean, so what now, your imperial highness?”
Tyrus sighed. His father chuckled, then sobered.
“That is the question, child. What now? Am I to rally the army? March on Fairview? Free the captives? Slaughter the rebels? I suspect that is the answer you’d like.”
“Tyrus already explained why you can’t do that. They’d see an army approaching and kill the hostages.”
“My son knows his battle tactics well and his politics better than he’ll admit. Yes, that’s why I cannot march on Fairview. But there is more to it. I do not prepare the army for war because I hope to avoid war. I allow the citizens of the empire to continue on their daily business because, again, I hope to avoid war. I will avoid war in any way I can, short of handing over the imperial throne. That includes the sacrifice of Edgewood’s children and the citizens of Fairview.”
Moria’s head shot up. “Did you say . . . ?”
“Yes, I did. War would kill thousands. It would ruin the lives and destroy the homes of tens of thousands. Would I allow a few hundred to die to avoid that?” He met her gaze. “Yes, I would. Make no mistake, child. I will do what I can to save those children and that village, but my eye is on the rest of my empire. On stopping Alvar Kitsune and whatever sorcery he works before he captures more villages.”
He paused, then continued, “You’ve no doubt heard Tyrus say he does not aspire to any high office. Part of that is self-preservation, but part is this, too—emperors and marshals must make decisions that Tyrus could not. He has a good heart, a pure heart. He takes after his mother in that. He will make a great warrior someday. A great commander. But not an emperor. Not a marshal.”
Moria snuck another look at Tyrus, but he kept his face averted. Anger flared in her as she looked back at the emperor.
“You think I ought not to speak of him like that in front of him,” he said.
“Yes, I do.”
Again, Tyrus cleared his throat. Again, his father only chuckled.
“You mean well, son, but she’ll speak her mind as long as she has a tongue to do it with, and if she didn’t, she’d still speak it with her eyes. She objects because she feels I insult you. You may even feel insulted. But you will do great things, and you will live to do them, which matters more to me than that you should be suited to a throne you would never see. The empire is built on great warriors. It can always use more of those, and fewer men vying to be emperor or marshal.” He paused. “Speaking of uses for warriors, I have a task for you, Tyrus. Your first military assignment.”
Tyrus shot to attention, his dual swords rattling. “Yes, my lord father?”
“I will dispatch no more spies to Fairview. It is time to send an envoy. One they will see coming, but one that is small enough to be of no threat. One that bears royal blood.”
“You wish me to accompany it?”
“Sending your older brothers would insult Alvar, implying that they are speaking for me. Sending you says I take the threat seriously and wish to open direct negotiations between myself and Alvar, and send you to arrange for them.”
“You said he would not negotiate,” Moria said.
“He won’t. But it is only right for me to attempt it. I will send a convoy with my son and with the Keeper of Edgewood, presuming she wishes to go.”
Now Moria straightened. “Yes, I do.”
“Your sister, too, if she wishes. You brought Alvar’s message, so you will return it. He sent you here accompanied by his son. I will send you back accompanied by mine. It is an honorable move. When you reach Fairview, you and Tyrus can accomplish what my spies could not.”
“Assess the situation,” Tyrus murmured. “Confirm that the children and villagers live, determine where they are being held and how one might free them.”
His father smiled. “Precisely.”
Emperor Tatsu had asked Tyrus to walk Moria and Daigo back to their quarters. As they crossed the palace grounds, she began to wonder if Tyrus had agreed only because he could not refuse. He’d been silent since they left the emperor’s quarters.
When they reached the gate between the court and palace grounds, she said, “I can find my way from here.”
He brushed off her words with a distracted wave, following beside her but still not speaking. Daigo bumped her hand, as if in sympathy.
Once they were out of the guards’ earshot, she said, “I’m sorry.”
He glanced over then, and it took a moment for his eyes to focus, as if he’d been lost in some other realm.
She continued, “I broke every rule of decorum, speaking to the emperor like that. But you were the one I hurt by digging us both into a hole. I don’t blame you for being angry.”
A faint smile touched his lips. “I think you’ve spent too much time with—” He bit off the sentence before saying Gavril’s name. “If hearing you speak your mind upset me, I’d hardly have lasted a day in your company. I expect no less. I’m not angry, Moria. If I was, you’d know it. You don’t need to search for nuances with me. If it seems as if I’m thinking, that’s truly all I’m doing. Thinking about what my father said about the children and the villagers. And thinking of the trip to come, and whether he may be underestimating his enemy.”
“You fear it’s not safe.”
He hesitated, then said, with obvious reluctance, “I do.”
“Your father wouldn’t put you at risk.”
“It’s not me I’m thinking of, Moria. Yes, you can take care of yourself. But you are a Keeper and unnecessary risk is still unnecessary.”
“You think that sending me is unnecessary.”
“Yes, I do. I’ve been quiet because you’ll not appreciate my saying so, and because going along is what you’ll want.”
“I must go. Your father insists.”
“That doesn’t make it easier,” he said softly.
She nodded. “You ought to go back to your quarters and prepare.” A wry smile. “You’ll be stuck with me soon enough.”
His gaze met hers. “There is no one I’d rather be stuck with.”
Moria tried to drop her eyes. She knew that’s what she ought to do. Shyly look away. But it was all she could do not to move toward him, to take that first step herself, see if he’d reciprocate, if he’d reach out and—
“It grows late,” Tyrus said, backing up. “You’ll need to speak to Ashyn quickly. We depart at dawn, and my father brooks no delays.”