ONE
"You'll be coming back with me, Keeper."
Moria stared at the young warrior. Gavril Kitsune had escorted her across the Wastes after her village was destroyed, her people massacred. A massacre orchestrated, as she'd later discovered, by his father, the former marshal--a man long thought dead. Orchestrated and carried out with Gavril's full knowledge. If that betrayal had not been enough, she'd been taken in battle nearly a fortnight ago and held captive at Alvar Kitsune's compound, under Gavril's care. Locked in a dungeon at Gavril's command. And now, a mere day after her escape, he stood before her, with the emperor at his side, telling her she was going back?
Moria took a slow step backward, bumping into her wildcat, Daigo, and the emperor's son, Tyrus. Daigo pressed against her legs, growling, his fur on end. Tyrus stepped in front of her.
"Is this sorcery?" Tyrus said. "And do not tell me you aren't a sorcerer. When we were children, you swore you were not. Lied to me, as I now realize. I told Moria once that I knew you as well as anyone could, but you have proven that I did not know you at all."
Gavril flinched at that. After everything, he actually flinched, as if wounded by his old friend's words.
Tyrus went on. "This is sorcery. It must be, to convince my father to let you take Moria."
"It is not sorcery," Emperor Tatsu said, his voice soft but firm. "It is war. I need a spy in Alvar's camp, and Gavril has convinced me he is not our enemy."
"Then make him the spy," Moria said. "If he is telling you he is innocent, let him prove it."
"It is not that simple," the emperor said. "Gavril's position is precarious enough. He must maintain the fiction of allegiance to his father."
"Fiction?" She looked at Gavril. "Is that what it is? But of course. It's all a terrible misunderstanding. How wronged you have been, Lord Gavril. How poorly I have treated you, when you have been nothing but kind to me."
He wouldn't meet her gaze as she spoke.
"There is no fiction here," Moria said. "Only another kind of sorcery. The one Kitsunes are best at: lies."
She turned on her heel to see Dalain, son of Warlord Okami, whose lands they were on. Her hand moved to her dagger, ready for him to block her path, but he dipped his chin and stepped aside, allowing her and Daigo to walk into the forest.
Behind her, she heard the clatter of swords--Tyrus starting to come after her. She knew that without looking. But his father said, "Let her go," and to Moria's relief--and yes, a little to her dismay--Tyrus obeyed.
Moria walked until she was out of sight, and then she broke into a run, a headlong dash through the trees, her chest feeling like it was going to explode, her eyes threatening to fill with tears.
What sin had she committed against the goddess to deserve this? She might not be as pious as a Keeper ought to be, but did her petty rebellions truly warrant such punishment? Her twin sister missing, the children of her village missing, her emperor handing her over to a traitor, and Tyrus . . .
No, Tyrus had done the right thing, staying by his father's side. Filial piety above all, including any attachment to young women. Tyrus was honorable. Always honorable. And she loved him for it, even if she might desperately wish to hear his footfalls--
Boots pounded behind her. Daigo growled and she knew it was not Tyrus. She pulled her blade as she turned. When she saw who it was, her fingers gripped the dagger, and the urge to whip it with all her might was almost too much. Instead she shoved the dagger into her belt and kept running.
"Moria!"
She kept going, veering past a gnarled oak, over a stream, one boot sliding in mud, Daigo pushing against her to keep her upright.
"Keeper!"
She stopped then. Stopped and turned and saw him. A tall, dark-skinned warrior, his figure as identifiable as his braids and his green sorcerer eyes.
"Wait, Keeper. We must speak."
"Do not call me that," she said through her teeth.
"I have always called you that."
"And so you will no more," she said. "The one who called me that was a boy I knew in Edgewood. A scowling, surly, exceedingly difficult boy . . . one who traveled with me and argued with me and fought with me. Fought at my side and told me his secrets. That boy is gone. It seems he never existed."
Gavril sighed and pushed back his braids with an impatient hand. When Daigo growled he said, "I'm no danger to her, Daigo. I never was. I think you know that as well as she does, but you're both too stubborn to admit it."
"Stubborn?" Moria stepped toward him, her dagger drawn. "You dare call me stubborn? As if I'm a child who has made a silly error?"
"Of course not. I--"
"You will tell me you had nothing to do with the massacre? I have heard that already, Lord Gavril--"
"Don't call me that."
"Why not? That is your title now, as one of your father's warlords. Yes, you've told me you knew nothing of his plans in Edgewood. But only after repeatedly insisting that you were indeed responsible. But let's not discuss your role in Edgewood or Fairview or Northpond or the massacres there or my father's death. Let's talk about what you cannot deny. You said you are no threat to me. Yet within your compound, you left me in a dungeon--"
"I--"
"A dungeon. A cold and dark dungeon, without a word about my sister or Daigo or Tyrus, no idea whether they lived. In a dungeon with a guard who pissed on my blankets and spoiled my food and tried to defile me."
"What did you say?" said a voice behind her.
Moria turned as Tyrus walked from the forest, breathing hard, as if he'd run ahead to cut her off. He had indeed defied his father and come for her. She felt only the first spark of mingled dismay and pleasure before she caught sight of his face--the awful expression as he bore down on Gavril, his sword out.
"Moria told me you had taken care of her," Tyrus said.
"I did not wish you--" Moria b
egan.
He glanced back, his eyes softening. "I know why." He turned to Gavril again. "She told me you'd treated her well, because when she was captured, duty compelled me to make for the city, to warn my father of Jorojumo's betrayal rather than hunt for her, and the only thing that allowed me to do so was the conviction that you did care for her and would care for her. That whatever you had done, there was still honor and decency in you. If she'd admitted otherwise? I would have blamed myself. Now I discover not only was she mistreated but . . ." Tyrus seemed to choke on the words, gripping his blade tighter. "Unsheath your sword and defend yourself."
TWO
Gavril shook his head as Tyrus challenged him. "I'll not."
"You will!" Tyrus roared, and both Gavril and Moria fell back in surprise. "If you have one shred of honor left, you will defend yourself."
"Then I have none, because I'll not fight you, Tyrus. I understand you are upset."
"Upset?" Tyrus's roar rang through the forest again. "You threw her into a dungeon and allowed her to be--"
"I allowed nothing. I can explain."
"Are you telling me you have an excuse? Does it involve sorcery or magics? Something that made Moria believe you abandoned her in a dungeon when you did not?"
"No, but--"
"Then there is no excuse."