"Stay with me, Kitsune. Please, please, please." Tears streamed down her face onto his, and his eyes opened barely a crack. He fumbled for her hand, and she took it, squeezing it hard. "Please, just--"
"I was never good at obeying your orders, Keeper. But for once, I wish I could. Just stay here." His hand gripped hers. "Stay here, and tell me a story, one of your silly stories . . ."
His eyes closed. She wanted to shake him again, to shout at him to wake up, but she knew he wouldn't. She had seen the wound. She knew what it portended. Now she crouched there, crying and clutching his limp hand. Then she leaned and kissed his lips.
"I'll see you on the other side, Kitsune," she said. "Do not forget me."
I never could, Keeper, his spirit whispered as it slipped past, and she fell onto his bloodied body, sobbing like she would break in two.
FIFTY-SEVEN
When Moria finally rose, she saw Tyrus there, kneeling beside Gavril, tears rolling down his cheeks. She reached for his hand and he took it but said nothing, just rose. He stood with her as their gazes went to one figure standing on that dais.
Alvar Kitsune stood as if frozen in one of his own spells. His gaze was locked on his son, and his expression . . . Moria didn't care about his expression. Didn't care if he looked like he was going to fall on his own blade. She'd not let him. She'd wield that blade herself. And so she rose, and in her hand she held a dagger--Gavril's own dagger.
Tyrus walked at her side, his own blade raised. She met Alvar's gaze, and he did not flinch. Gave no expression at all, just looked at her with eyes as dead and empty as his son's.
"He hated you," Moria said. "That's the last thing I want you to hear, Alvar Kitsune. The last thought I want impressed in your mind. That your son despised you. That he was ready to give up his afterlife if that's what his betrayal cost him. What happened here? You have no one to blame but yourself. You killed him as surely as if you wielded the blade."
One of the guards moved forward, but Alvar lifted a hand to stop him. Then his lips began to move.
"Casting magics?" Moria said. "That is your only true power, isn't it? The only reason you stood a chance of winning. You raised the dead and you twisted innocent spirits and you slaughtered innocent citizens with them. You snuck spirits into the city in the bodies of children."
She expected him to deny it, or at least to sneer and gloat at how easily they'd been trapped by their sentimentality, bringing the children into the very palace grounds. But he said nothing. Just continued to whisper.
Moria raised her dagger and Tyrus his sword. No one moved to stop them. Alvar's own guards stood stock-still. Emperor Tatsu met Moria's gaze and then Tyrus's, as if to say that he would do this if they could not. They both shook their heads. Moria stopped in front of Alvar Kitsune and lifted her dagger.
"Wait," he said, and his voice was oddly soft. "Let me finish."
"Finish casting your spell?" She gave an ugly laugh. "Of course, my lord. I'll let you finish so you may turn out the lights and escape."
"If I wanted that, I'd have done it. Plunge that dagger into my gut, Keeper. Start me on my way to the second world. But let me complete my magics before you finish me off."
Of course she would. He was the nine-tailed fox. He'd trick her with his dying breath. Yet as she lifted the dagger again, a passing spirit whispered Wait, and she hesitated, thinking it was Gavril, and the pain of that, of hearing him as a spirit, of remembering his broken body behind her--it stopped her hand. Then the spirit said, Wait, child, and she realized it was not him. Yet she paused, just a moment, unwittingly long enough for Alvar to finish.
"There," he said. "It is done. And so am I."
He reached as if to pull open his tunic for the fatal blow. Instead, he grabbed his sword. Before he even had it out, Moria was on him, stabbing him in the chest, thoughts of Gavril fueling her rage as she stabbed him again and again, expecting to feel his blade at any moment. Instead, he said, "Best not to attack an unarmed man. It is dishonorable." Then he smiled. An odd little smile. And there was a thwack, and the smile was gone, his head gone, blood spraying. Tyrus pulled her back out of the way, his bloodied blade still in hand. She stumbled and he caught her and they both stared at Alvar Kitsune's body.
"There's a trick," Moria whispered. "I know there's a trick."
But there wasn't. Alvar Kitsune lay on the dais, his head against the wall, his life's blood flowing into his son's. Moria couldn't look at Gavril. It was as if, by not looking, it would not have happened like this. That instead of throwing himself under that blade, Gavril would have killed his father. But Moria knew why he'd made this choice. Because killing Alvar wouldn't have stopped the blade. Even dragging Tyrus aside would have changed nothing. Alvar would only have restrained Gavril and killed Tyrus and perhaps the crown prince, too, reneging on the deal in his rage. No, the only thing that would truly stop Alvar? The death of his son. Of his only heir.
It had been about Gavril. All about Gavril.
No, she imagined Gavril's voice. It was about him. His legacy.
Which was true, but Gavril was that legacy. Alvar hadn't been securing the throne for himself. He was older than Emperor Tatsu. He'd not have ruled for long. He would win the empire, rule briefly, then hand it to his son and watch his legacy unfold.
Gavril had given his life. To stop his father. To save his friend. Moria had begged him to do something, anything . . . and he had done everything. Given everything.
And she would never forgive herself for that.
She felt Tyrus's arms around her then. They were shaking, and she reminded herself that she was not the only one who'd suffered this loss. As much as she cared for Gavril--no, as much as she loved him--Tyrus had loved him first. Loved him. Lost him. Gotten him back. Lost him again.
Moria turned in Tyrus's arms and hugged him, letting her dagger clank to the floor, as his sword did the same. They stood there until they both realized the room was no longer silent, that people were milling about, freed from their shock.
They both looked to see the emperor standing there. They parted, and he embraced them, first his son and then Moria, whispering "I'm so, so sorry, child."