"So it's true then?" the girl said. "What they say Prince Tyrus did?"
"It is indeed. Ran from the battlefield and left his men to die. Which sounds very familiar, doesn't it?"
When the girl said nothing, one of the traders laughed. "She's too young to remember. He means Marshal Kitsune. That's the crime he was exiled for. Running from a losing battle and sacrificing his men. Which we all know was a lie. The emperor feared the marshal's power and had him framed and exiled. Now the goddess has exacted her punishment. His own son has done the same thing. Judgment has already been passed. When the bastard prince slinks back to the imperial court, his father plans to exact the same penalty. Death to the coward who bears his name. Fitting, don't you think?"
The spirit whispered something, but Ashyn was already racing back to the inn with Ronan right behind her.
TWENTY-SEVEN
"It's a lie," Tyrus said when they had him outside, far enough from the inn to speak in private.
"Of course it is," Guin sniffed. "Even I saw enough of what happened at the battlefield not to believe such nonsense."
"I mean it's a lie that judgment has been passed. What you've heard is a rumor. An alarming one, to be sure, but I did lead a troop into an impossible battle. I was spirited away from that battle. I am the only warrior who survived. The charge is not untrue."
"Yes, it is," Ashyn said. "Because the circumstances are much more complicated than that."
"But to some, no matter how the facts are laid out, they will see exactly what those men do. As Moria would say, people like a good story."
He went silent for a moment, and Ashyn could tell he was thinking of her sister. He'd been struggling with his decision not to search for her first. Duty and honor bound him to this path, but his heart pulled him in a very different direction.
"I wouldn't call that a good story," Guin said.
Tyrus gave his head a sharp shake, as if clearing it. "Moria would tell you a good story doesn't need to be true or happy. It merely needs to be satisfying. And for some, this would be supremely satisfying. They believe my father falsely exiled Alvar Kitsune. What better fate than to have his own son be guilty of the same charge?"
"This is Alvar's work, then," Ashyn murmured. "Starting this rumor."
"Perhaps. But the only impartial survivor was Simeon, who seems, poor soul, not to have survived the journey. My father won't defend me against these rumors--he does not dare, for fear of seeming indulgent. But he won't believe them either, until he has proof. The horses should be sufficiently rested. We'll ride to the city--"
"No," Ronan said.
"We--"
"No." Ronan stepped in front of Tyrus. "You are not riding to the city until I have gone ahead and investigated this rumor."
Tyrus's brows shot up. "Is that an order?"
"I'm being impudent, I know. But you are the one who's told us, repeatedly, not to treat you as a prince. Out here, you've said, you're simply a friend. So, I'm going to insist you stay here, while I investigate, as a friend."
"I appreciate that . . . I think. But I can't allow it. Every moment we delay is another moment in which my father is, presumably, unaware of what has happened--with Fairview, with Northpond, with Jorojumo. And it's another moment in which I am dealing with this while Moria is held captive. So I'm sorry if you disagree, but I'm returning to the city--"
As Tyrus stepped forward, Ronan pulled his blade.
"Ronan!" Ashyn said.
Tyrus only shook his head. "Obviously you feel strongly about this."
Ronan adjusted his grip on his blade. "I do, your highness."
"And I feel equally strongly that any risk I face is outweighed by duty. I must return to the city. Immediately. If you say I may not, we are at an impasse."
"We are."
Tyrus eyed the blade. "If you draw that against me, you ought to be prepared to use it."
"I am." Sweat beaded along Ronan's forehead, but he kept the sword steady.
"I would need to defend myself."