"Is he mad? A Keeper cannot marry. It's an insult to the goddess--"
"There's a precedent."
She stared at him.
"There's a precedent, and my father is using it to bolster his claim on the imperial throne by saying it's a portent."
"No, it's insanity."
"I am not disagreeing. But as I said, there will be no marriage. Simply a betrothal. The wedding will be postponed until he takes the throne, when it can be properly celebrated."
"Then you are correct. I have nothing to worry about, because he's never going to take that throne."
"The point, Moria, is that we are stuck with this performance. We need to play our parts, and if we do not, we will be punished."
He resumed pacing the floor. She'd noticed he hadn't even argued when she said his father wouldn't become emperor.
"My father wishes . . ." More pacing. "He requires . . ." Gavril cleared his throat. "He insists that it must appear as more than a political alliance."
"More . . . ? What--"
"It must appear to be a love match," he said, spitting the words. "You must act as if you are . . ."
"In love with you?" She stared at him. "Then you might as well escort me to the dungeon now, Kitsune, because there is not enough performing skill in the world for that."
"It is not the dungeon he threatens you with."
His words were almost too quiet to hear, but there was no way she could miss them. She stared at him.
"He . . . He threatens me with . . . ? He threatens a Keeper with death?"
"You know that I never would have brought you here. Yes, I tricked you. I betrayed you. I regret none of it. But I do not wish to see you dead, Moria."
"Then help me escape."
With a short laugh, he shook his head, pacing away again.
"What?" she said. "That is the solution, is it not? To both our problems? You aren't telling me anything I haven't already realized. I know you don't care for me but--"
"And you are correct. I do not. I never did. When I say I don't wish you dead, I accord you the courtesy of your position and the basic humanity I would feel for any other innocent party."
"The basic humanity you would feel for any other innocent party . . ."
He fixed her with a cold look, his gaze shuttered. "Yes, Moria. I know you don't like to hear that--"
"Why? Because I still hold out hope that you're not a treacherous son of a whore? Do I flinch when you insult me? When you tell me I mean nothing to you? I do not. What I marvel at is any notion that you possess basic humanity. Was my father not an innocent party?"
He'd been pacing again as she spoke. He had his back to her now, and it stiffened as he stopped. Then he stood there, facing the wall.
"Do you want my help in pulling off this performance?" she said. "This is my price. Admit what you did. The role you played in the massacre of Edgewood. In my father's death."
"I have already--"
"You have not. I want to hear it from your lips. Exactly the role you played."
He stayed there, his back to her. "As I said, I have done whatever you believe."
"That's not what I'm asking for."