"Don't pretend you don't understand me. I need you to track Ashyn and Tova, and I know you're already doing that, and I know you won't admit to it because you aren't a hunting cat and you don't want to be seen failing."
"Do you truly think he understands you?" Moria asked.
"Every word? No. More than he lets on. Yes. Mostly, I can just predict his behavior because I know his Keeper. He will do whatever you would."
"I don't think that's exactly--"
"Completely true."
Gavril grunted in agreement. She looked at him.
Gavril shrugged. "The cat is your bond-beast. He's as difficult as you are. It's his nature."
Tyrus smiled as Moria glared at Gavril. Ahead of them, the main doors were opening to let someone in. They paused to let the newcomer pass, their attention still on one another.
"Back to the plan," Tyrus said. "Daigo will attempt to track Ashyn and Tova. We will follow him while not relying on his nose. The point is--"
"The point is," said a voice in front of them. "That you have given your last order to my son, Tyrus."
The figure stepped forward, pulling back his hood. Even before he did, Moria knew who it was. She would never again mistake that voice.
Alvar Kitsune.
FIFTY-SIX
Tyrus, Moria, and Daigo all lunged at Alvar . . . and he extinguished the lights, as he had before. Gavril got his sorcerer's fire lit, but by then his father was gone and the hall had erupted into madness. There was no other word for it. Simple madness.
Alvar had not come alone. He'd brought a troop of warriors, who'd apparently been living in the imperial city and who'd easily marched through the palace gates while everyone dealt with the shadow stalkers. Then they were in the palace itself--the warriors plus the palace guards turned shadow stalkers. Tatsu's men fought hard and fierce, and soon a dozen bodies littered the floor--half of them Alvar's men--but between the sorcery and the shadow stalkers, they did not stand a chance. One moment Moria was dispelling the last of the shadows stalkers while Tyrus and Gavril fought off those who would stop her. And then every lantern burned bright again and Alvar Kitsune stood on the throne dais, Emperor Tatsu pinned with a sword at his throat.
"No!" Tyrus was the first to shout it. The only one to shout it. The only one to rush forward, his blade out.
"Stop," Alvar said. "Or I will kill him."
Gavril grabbed Tyrus's arm. The prince went to throw him off, but Moria gripped his other arm, and Tyrus stopped.
"Good," Alvar said. "You play at being leader, but you bend easily to the will of stronger friends. Sound familiar, Jiro?"
The emperor stood motionless, blood soaking his tunic. Not his blood. He'd fought as hard as any warrior and had been captured not by skill but by sorcery. Moria was certain of that.
"Do you think I plan to kill you, Jiro? No. That would be too simple. You will survive tonight. Then your suffering will begin in earnest, as you look back on this day and realize that everything that happened here was your own fault."
A long moment of silence.
"Not even going to defend yourself?" Alvar asked.
"To whom? To you, old friend? You know what happened. You know what you did, and what I was forced to do in return. Put whatever slant on it you like, but there's no sense defending myself to the person who knows the truth as well as I do."
"Brave words. Do you believe them, Jiro?"
"I believe the truth."
"So do I. Let's talk about the truth. The truth is that you stole my life to protect your throne. Then, to continue protecting it, you attempted to steal my son. To leave me no heir, in hopes that would kill my spirit. Shall I tell you a secret, Jiro?" Alvar leaned down to the emperor, a handspan shorter than he. In a loud, mock-whisper, he said, "My son never truly returned to yours. He betrayed you. Again."
Gavril stiffened, his green eyes widening, and in those eyes, Moria didn't see guilt. She knew she wouldn't. Tyrus didn't even glance over to gauge Gavril's reaction. What Moria saw was what she would have expected: shock. It was not until that moment, realizing she did not believe Alvar for a heartbeat, that she knew she'd forgiven Gavril. That she trusted him as much as she had that first night in the garden. He'd made mistakes. He'd suffered--horribly--for them. But he had, in his own way, never truly betrayed her or Tyrus. Nor would he now.
Alvar's lips pursed. "Perhaps betrayed is not the right word. My son . . . struggles. He is a young man caught in a storm, uncertain where to find shelter. He turned to you, but his heart was not truly in it, because his heart--his loyalty--remains with me. He is young, though, and more naive than I would have hoped. That is his mother's influence."
"Which you put an end to," the emperor said.