Alvar turned to the emperor. "Would you like your son to live?"
Emperor Tatsu glared at him. "That is obvious and--"
"Is it obvious? Let's see. You may let him live. Simply order Tyrus to take his place."
"What?"
"You heard me. Give the word. Your bastard dies. Your legitimate son lives."
The emperor's glower only hardened.
"Is that a no? Not surprising, I'll admit."
Alvar nodded and one of the guards restraining the prince lifted his blade over the young man's neck. A woman in the crowd screamed. Tyrus shouted "No!" but he did not move, could not move, and even if he had, it would have been too late. The blade came down and the prince's head fell to the floor. Two women shrieked and rushed for the dais, and Moria looked to see what had to be the young man's mother and his wife. Guards restrained them.
Alvar had the next son brought up. That's when the crown prince did react--he tried to pull his sword, not to save his brother, but knowing what was coming next. More of Alvar's warriors had arrived during the commotion. They restrained the crown prince and Tyrus, just to be sure, and they held the women at sword point.
The emperor tried to get free then, even if getting free meant a blade through his throat. But before he could do more than grab for Alvar, warriors were there to restrain him.
Alvar gave the emperor the option again: have Tyrus change places with his other son. Emperor Tatsu spat curses and raged. But he did not agree. And the guards executed the second prince.
When they hauled the crown prince to the dais, Emperor Tatsu could barely form curses, snarling that the ancestors and the goddess herself would make Alvar answer for this.
"No," Alvar said. "The goddess will understand. This is my revenge. She smiles on me in my victory. The question is what will you allow, Jiro. You have one legitimate son left. One heir to your throne. True, you will not have a throne much longer, but I don't expect you to believe that. Now comes the true test, when you have the chance to prove yourself a worthy leader . . . or a sentimental old fool. Make your choice."
"There is no choice!" Emperor Tatsu spat. "You seek only to hurt me. You will not allow any of them to live. You wish only to hear the words, to hear me grovel and beg for my sons, to make the terrible choice of sacrificing one for another, but I will not, because there is no choice."
"Oh, but there is. You have my absolute word on that. One of your sons will survive tonight. It is up to you to choose who. Your heir or your bastard."
"I will not--"
"Of course you will not, because you cannot. You choose Tyrus. You may say you don't believe me, but you know me to be a man of my word. You only pretend otherwise so that you are not judged for your choice. Say the word and Tyrus takes your heir's place."
The hall went silent. And Jiro Tatsu said nothing.
The guard lifted the blade.
"I'll do it!" Tyrus shouted.
Moria turned to him, words stoppered in her throat, telling herself he was not saying what he seemed to be--
"I will give my life in my brother's place. For the empire."
Moria looked at Alvar, her heart beating so hard she could barely draw breath. Tell him no. I don't care if it's wrong. Just tell him--
"Approach and take his place then."
"No!" Moria screamed and threw herself forward, not caring that there was a blade at her neck, thinking only that she had to stop this, in any way she could, and whatever happened next, all that mattered was that she could not live knowing she hadn't tried.
Daigo sprang, too, but more guards grabbed Moria and one kicked Daigo in the head, hard enough for the wildcat to fall. Moria screamed again, and Tyrus fell beside Daigo, his hands going to the beast's heart.
"He's fine," he said. Then he rose, slowly, his gaze on Moria. "I need to do this."
"No, you do not," she said, struggling against the men who held her. "They wouldn't do it for you. They'd wield the blade themselves if they could."
"That doesn't matter. It isn't about them. It's about the empire. Leaving an heir."
"What heir? Him?" She jabbed her finger at the crown prince. "He's one-tenth the man you are, and your father knows it."