"You are welcome into the city," he said, his voice echoing. "As our most honored guests."
FORTY-NINE
They were going to war. Come dawn, Moria would set out with the emperor and Tyrus and Gavril. While they'd been off on their adventures, the emperor had been mobilizing his troops and sending spies to assess the situation. A target had been located--a camp a day's walk from the imperial city. The emperor knew better than to hurl his entire army at one camp, but he was no longer sitting and waiting for Alvar to make the first move.
Alvar knew his son had switched sides. The emperor would strike, at the head of a contingent of his men, with his sons at his side.
War. Moria would actually see war. Yes, she was going primarily as a figurehead. But while Emperor Tatsu refused to put her into battle until she was better trained, she would do as she had done outside Riverside--watch from the front lines and offer support in any way possible.
She'd left Tyrus speaking to his father and wandered into the gardens. Now she and Daigo sat beside the pond, watching the huge golden fish mouth the surface for the grass seeds she stripped and threw in.
"If you do not wish companionship, I will stay back here," a familiar voice said. "But I do not think, even in the court grounds, that you ought to be alone, Keeper."
She turned to find Gavril and managed a smile. "I was not, but I seem to have misplaced my guard."
He shook his head, and she patted the ground next to her. He came over and sat at her side.
"So . . ." she said. "War."
He nodded.
"I know a warrior is not supposed to admit fear . . ." she said.
"But I will. To you. I am not, however, as afraid as I was the last time I was in this garden with you. That is something."
She looked around and realized this was indeed the garden where he'd begged her to run away with him, before she discovered who'd sent the letter to the emperor.
"Do you wish we'd done it?" she asked.
"Do I wish you'd been spared everything that came after? Yes. But do I wish I'd tricked you into life in exile? Never. You lost and you gained."
"More gained than lost."
"As did I. While I would wipe my mother's death from my mind if I could, she would still not have lived had I run. Whatever I've been through, I needed to endure it. To defy my father. To pledge myself to my empire. Even reconciling with Tyrus, though that may seem a small thing . . ."
"Friendship is never a small thing."
He dipped his chin. "I have begun to regain something I lost and mourned more than I realized. And I have begun to find myself, where I belong. I see a future. I never did that before."
She leaned against his shoulder, carefully, half expecting him to pull away, but he only put his arm lightly around her waist.
"Now we just need to survive a war," she said.
"Apparently."
"In light of everything else we've survived, how hard can it be?"
"How hard indeed."
She smiled and rested against him as they watched the fish in the pond and said nothing more.
It was night, and Moria was alone with Tyrus. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be for long. There would be no nights together for a while. Moria did long to spend private time with her sister, but she'd still hoped perhaps she could begin her evenings with one and end with the other. She quickly realized that would be neither seemly nor wise. On the road, they were adults, in charge of their days . . . and their nights. Here in court, they were little more than children again, surely not nearly responsible or mature enough to be trusted in such matters. If they shared a sleeping pallet, babies and scandal would be the inevitable result.
"We'll work something out," Tyrus had said when they'd shared their mutual disappointment. "I neither plan to forgo our nights nor to sneak about as if we are doing something wrong. We will not be in the city past tonight anyway."
Gavril had retired for the evening. He was struggling, and Moria was learning when to go after him so he could talk and when he truly did just want to be alone with his thoughts. Tonight was the latter, so she stayed with Tyrus, walking through the darkened gardens, talking and finding shadows for embraces and kisses and lovers' whispers.
Daigo was with them, of course. Zuri was . . . somewhere. She was more like a pet falcon than a dog or a cat. She amused herself, exploring and such, returning now and then to reassure herself that her master had not left. And despite Tyrus's "gifting" her to his father, there was no doubt who her master was. Even Emperor Tatsu had already decreed that Zuri should stay with Tyrus . . . for training and such.