"But I cannot be heir."
"My vision. I saw--"
"No, Moria." He walked over and put his hands on her face. "It's not about me or about my brother. It's about keeping the empire whole." He leaned in and kissed her. "I love you."
"If you--" She bit off the words. She could not say that. Would not. It wasn't fair, no matter how much she longed to say whatever would work. It wouldn't work, and he'd go to his death with that: you'd not do this if you truly loved me. He was right. It wasn't about them, not any of them. It was honor and it was duty, and that came first, however much she railed against it.
She kissed him. She tried to throw her arms around his neck, but the guards held her back. So she kissed him and told him she loved him.
"You still have my amulet band?" he whispered.
"Of course."
"Good. Then I'll see you on the other side. I don't expect you to wait for me--"
"I will."
He pressed his lips to hers. "Don't. Just know that I'll see you and, perhaps, we can start again. Perhaps that is what you saw. That's when we'll be together."
One last kiss, and he turned, and she tried not to scream, she bit her lip so hard it bled, blood mingling with her tears. She still fought. She couldn't not fight. She fought, and she told herself this would not happen. That her sister would rush through the door with an army at her rear. That Zuri would find a way to swoop in. That Daigo was only feigning unconsciousness and would save Tyrus. That if all that failed, the goddess herself would intervene.
Tyrus walked onto the dais and bent. He moved his hair aside for the blade. Three warriors restrained the emperor. Another two flanked Gavril. That's when she saw Gavril's expression. The horror and that look she knew so well, the one that said his mind was whirring as fast as it could to come up with a solution.
He glanced at her then. She mouthed, Please, please, please, straining against the guards, tears streaming down her face.
Please do something. Please help him. Use your sorcery. Use your blade. Use whatever you can, Gavril. Please, please, please.
Gavril saw her pleading, and he nodded. That's all he did. Nodded. And she knew it would be all right. That he had a plan. She held her breath, waiting, but Alvar gave the signal and the blade began to drop and--
And there was a flash of light, as there'd been in the dragon's den. Moria fell back, blinded. Then she saw Gavril lunging at Tyrus, pushing him out of the way, but the blade was still falling and--
"No!" Moria screamed with everything she had as she saw that blade falling. On Gavril. Gavril not only pushing Tyrus to safety but taking his place under that terrible blade. Moria threw herself forward and in the shock of it, her guards released her and she ran for the dais, still screaming.
The blade fell. It cleaved into Gavril's back and his body jerked with the force of it, the blade sinking in, blood spraying. Tyrus was already on his feet, Gavril's own blade in his hand, swinging it on the executioner, striking so hard he cut the man in two. He dropped the blade and fell beside Gavril, and Moria was there, seeing . . .
She refused to understand what she was seeing. Refused to comprehend it. The wound could not be so great. She could not be seeing bone and viscera and blood, great gouts of blood pumping. She could not. Tyrus had his shirt off, and they wrapped it around Gavril, turning him onto his back as they did.
Gavril's eyes were closed.
"No," Moria said between gritted teeth. She took his chin in one bloodied hand and shook it as hard as she could. "Wake up, Kitsune. Blast you, open--"
His eyes fluttered open. He saw her and he smiled. "Keeper."
"Stay with me. You said that to me. Now I say it to you."
"I cannot."
"You will."
A slight shake of his head. "I cannot. I'm sorry, Keeper. I'm sorry for everything."
"You have nothing--"
"I do."
"No." She met his eyes. "You have nothing to be sorry for, and if you think you do, then yes, you are forgiven. But you--"
His eyes began to close.