Ashyn and Guin stood by a tree, far enough from the road to hear only the murmur of voices and the clatter of wagons. Tova lay at Ashyn’s feet. Daigo was, as always, with Tyrus, who was . . . elsewhere.
“I don’t understand it,” Guin was saying. “There’s a freedom to dresses that trousers simply don’t have. I don’t care if women may wear trousers now; I cannot wait to be out of these.”
“Trousers are certainly better for horseback riding. Nor would I want to walk any great distance in a dress. But I’ll admit I’ll be happy to put one on again. And the ones at court are certainly prettier than any pair of trousers. I’ve had fine dresses, but those were quite spectacular.”
“Tell me about them,” Guin said.
While Ashyn was playing a role, chattering with her “maidservant,” Guin clearly found the conversation to her liking. Ashyn had to admit it was not particularly a chore to talk about pretty dresses. The ones she’d been given at court had been the stuff of dreams, though at the time, she’d been too worried about the children to enjoy them properly. Now, as she waxed eloquent on the fabrics and cuts—and Guin responded with increasing delight—she was so caught up in the conversation that she forgot it was staged.
When Ronan darted toward them, winding his way through the elm grove, she grinned at him . . . and then caught his expression of alarm, forgetting that this too was part of the act. Fortunately, by saying “What’s wrong?” with genuine concern, she was playing her role.
“They’re still hunting for the prince,” Ronan said, not lowering his voice. “We need to get him out of here.”
“Where will we take him?” Ashyn asked.
“I don’t know. Just get on your mount and let’s go.”
He waved for them to ride away from the road. Ashyn fumbled getting onto her horse as Ronan helped her, urging her to hurry. Over his shoulder she caught a glimpse of a man sneaking through the trees. It was the youngest of the three bounty hunters. There was no sign of the other two. Tyrus had expected they’d split up to cover more ground.
As Ronan helped her, Ashyn “slipped” and “accidentally” kicked him in the face. Admittedly the script of their performance did not specify such an action, only that she delay getting onto her steed, but at least it meant his oomph of surprise and annoyance was genuine.
The young bounty hunter continued moving toward them, faster now, spurred on by the certainty they were too preoccupied with their escape to notice him. In turn, he was too preoccupied to notice the figure slipping up behind him.
“Stop there,” Tyrus said as he pressed his blade to the back of the bounty hunter’s neck.
When the man’s hand fell to his sword, Tyrus said, “I’d rather you didn’t do that.”
“You’ll not allow me to defend myself? You truly are a coward, aren’t you, boy?”
There was no shock in Tyrus’s face at that. Just quiet grief, as if, despite his words, this was exactly what he’d feared.
He allowed the man to withdraw his sword. Ronan rocked forward, his hand on his own blade.
“No,” Tyrus said. “He’s right. He’s a warrior, and he’s my father’s man. I must allow him to defend himself.”
Which was, of course, ridiculous. What was the point in ambushing someone if you were going to let him draw his sword?
The bounty hunter withdrew it slowly, as if considering whether he truly wished to fight an imperial prince. Then, the moment it was free, he wheeled and lunged, hoping to catch Tyrus off guard. Tyrus met his thrust, their swords clanging. Then Tyrus’s blade circled back the other way, faster than the bounty hunter could recover from the clash, and when Tyrus’s sword slashed his arm, he hissed, eyes rounding in surprise. The cut was deep enough to draw blood. He swung his blade, but Tyrus evaded easily.
“Are you quite certain you wish to do this?” Tyrus asked.
The man sneered. “You expect me to surrender because you landed a lucky blow? Yes, your highness, I wish to do this.”
He lunged at Tyrus and the fight began in earnest. It ended with the bounty hunter on the ground, blood soaked through his tunic in three places and his trousers in two. Tyrus had a nick on his elbow.
“The prince is no coward, as you see,” Guin said.
Tyrus quieted her with a look. When the man started to rise, Tyrus put his sword tip at his throat. “I gave you the chance to do this civilly. Now we’ll do it like this.”
The man looked over his head, taking in Ronan, Ashyn, and Guin. His gaze fell to Tova then to Daigo, as the wildcat slid to Tyrus’s side.
“So the whore left you her beast?” he said.
Ashyn stiffened. Tyrus did, too, but hid his reaction faster.
“If you mean—” Tyrus began.
“You know who I mean, boy. The fact that you still care for her beast—and her sister—suggests you’re too big a fool to even realize what she did to you.”
“Perhaps. Enlighten me. Please.”
“She betrayed you. Seduced you, then sold you out, all at her lover’s command.”
“Her lover?”
“The Kitsune boy.”
“Ah, Gavril. I see.”
Ashyn stood, tense, ready to leap to her sister’s defense, but Tyrus’s expression said that he was not entertaining the accusation for a moment. He knew Moria too well for that.
“Yes, Gavril Kitsune,” the bounty hunter said. “He sent you his whore, and she played on your weakness for pretty girls. You’ve betrayed the empire, and you’ll pay for that. Your father has promised it.”
Now shock did flicker over Tyrus’s face.
The man laughed. “Did you honestly think he’d defend you? After what you did to his men? There’s a bounty on your head, boy. Every man has been dispatched to hunt you down, and the one who does receives twenty gold as long as you’re returned alive so the empire can see you properly punished. I hear Edgewood is no more, having been laid to waste by Alvar Kitsune, with the help of his son and the Keeper whore. So you’ll not be exiled to the Forest of the Dead. But I’m sure your father will find a suitable punishment. The empire may even demand blood for what you’ve done.”
“He’s done nothing,” Guin said, stepping forward.
Ashyn tried to grab her back, but Guin wrenched from her grip and turned on her. “You’ll stand here and listen to these lies? You’ll not say a word to defend him? To defend your sister?”
“Because she knows it will do no good,” Tyrus said, his voice low. “Listen and be still, Guin.”
“I’ll not be still. How does the emperor leap to such conclusions when he cannot even have questioned anyone who was there? Everyone is dead.”
“Not everyone,” Ronan murmured.
“Yes, you survived, as did Ashyn and I. We’ll all tell the same story. That Tyrus was betrayed by Lord Jorojumo. That Moria was captured by their forces. That—”
“Enough, Guin,” Tyrus said. “Please.”
“Oh, but she tells such a pretty tale,” the man said. “What have you promised these children in return for their lies?” He looked at Guin. “You are forgetting one other survivor, girl.”
Ronan shifted beside Ashyn, and the moment he did, she knew who the bounty hunter meant. Ronan glanced over at her, worry drawing his lips tight.
“Simeon,” she whispered. “No, that’s not . . . It isn’t possible. He was there. He knows the truth. We sent him for help.”
“If you mean the young scholar, oh yes, girl, he helped. Helped the empire unmask treachery. He promised the prince he’d spread his lies so the coward would not slay him. But he is a man of honor. When he reached the court, he told the truth.”
“What story did he tell?” Tyrus said.
It was almost exactly as they’d heard, except for Moria’s supposed role. The prince had been seduced and swayed by his false lover. She’d convinced him to march on Riverside, when the counselors and scholars had insisted Northpond was the proper target. In battle, Jorojumo had betrayed his emperor, working in league with Moria. Tyrus had realized what had happened and fled the battlefield while his men were slaughtered. Then Tyrus himself had murdered the counselors and scholar Katsumoto in hopes of hiding his cowardice. Finally, he’d commanded Simeon to court with a very different story.
“The prince would send a scholar to do that?” Guin said. “A man he barely knew? Not the Seeker or his scout here?”
Which proved, Ashyn admitted, that Guin was not as empty-headed as she seemed.
“The false prince didn’t know that the scholar had witnessed him murdering the counselors,” the bounty hunter said. “Clearly, his highness underestimated his choice of messenger.”
Tyrus continued to interrogate the bounty hunter, but when Tova looked to the left, Ashyn’s attention followed. The hound’s jowls vibrated with a growl, but before the first note of it erupted, Daigo sprang. He landed on a second bounty hunter as the man lunged out from a stand of trees.
Ronan wheeled. Tova barked and Ashyn saw a third figure run from the other direction.
“Ronan!”
She pulled her dagger and said, “Tova! Go!” Not a command but a release. Help Ronan. Don’t worry about me. Tova hesitated long enough to be sure she had her blade, then he let out a roar and charged. The bounty hunter under Tyrus’s sword tried to take advantage of the commotion to leap up, but Tyrus pinned him and then shouted, “Ashyn!”
She saw the figure burst from the trees and thought Daigo had lost his prey. But it wasn’t one of the bounty hunters. It was another warrior, his sword out, running straight at her. Tova broke off his charge, leaped on the man, and took him down, but that left his former target running at Tyrus. Ashyn shot toward them, but she was too far away. Tyrus kicked the man under him, foot connecting with jaw in a sickening crunch as he swung his sword at the running bounty hunter, cutting the man’s charge short with a spray of blood.
A fourth figure appeared behind him. Yet another warrior.
“Ashyn!” Tyrus said. “Take Guin! Go!”
She hesitated, blade gripped in her hand. Then she looked at Guin, wide-eyed in shock. The warrior running for Tyrus saw Guin and veered off, heading straight for the girl. Tyrus swung at the man, but he was too far and couldn’t reach without releasing the bounty hunter on the ground. His sword only grazed the man’s arm.
Ashyn ran for him. Tyrus’s eyes widened in horror as he mouthed something, likely What in blazes are you doing? Or possibly Get your dagger up! She was running straight at the warrior, her blade lowered. At the last moment, she reached out and shoved him. As he stumbled back, his blade nicked her arm. But the push did what it was meant to—landing him within Tyrus’s reach. The first bounty hunter was rising again, blood streaming from his mouth. Again, Tyrus kicked him down, this time in the nose. His blade flashed as it cleaved into the warrior’s arm, cutting clean through the bone and—
Ashyn staggered back as the warrior’s arm flew through the air, sword still clenched in his hand. The warrior screamed and blood arced and all she could think was, I need to bind it. Bind the severed stump so he wouldn’t bleed out and die.
But he must die. He dies or we die.
The shock of that hit her and she gasped for air, the warrior still gurgling with pain, stumbling toward his arm as if to retrieve the blade.
They were not playing with daggers. This was a sword fight. How did they test a warrior’s sword? By making sure it was sharp enough to cleave through three corpses with a single blow.
“Ashyn!” It was Tyrus. That mighty swing had thrown him enough off balance for the bounty hunter to stagger to his feet, his ruined nose and jaw streaming blood, but his sword raised as he faced off with Tyrus.
Tyrus had his back to her and didn’t turn, just said, “Take Guin and go! Now!”
She looked at Ronan. He’d dispatched his assailant and was running to Tova’s aid. Daigo had his target pinned and disarmed.
“Ashyn!” Tyrus’s voice came harsh now as he circled with the bounty hunter, both looking for an opportunity. “Your sister!”
That’s all he said: your sister. She knew what he meant. Moria would want you to go. Moria would want me to make sure you go.
He was right. Tyrus and Tova—and perhaps Daigo and Ronan—were keeping part of their attention on her, ready to run to her aid. Which meant the sum total of their attention was not on their opponents.
Ashyn grabbed Guin and yanked the girl out of her stupor. She took her by the hand and ran as swords clanged behind them.