Gavril paused. "All right. Yes. There's no excuse. I made a mistake."
"A mistake?" Tyrus's voice rose. "A mistake is drinking rice wine before your host. Putting a Keeper into a dungeon, when she has committed no crime, fought in no battle? That is an act of cowardice and cruelty that has no excuse. You are no longer the boy I called my friend. You are a treacherous son of a whore, and either you draw your sword and defend yourself or I will cut your head from your shoulders."
Gavril straightened. "Then do it."
Tyrus raised his sword tip to Gavril's throat. "You mock me?"
"Never. I'll not stop you. I'll not fight you either. If this is the penalty I've earned, then I accept it."
Moria rocked forward, dagger gripped. She ought not to interfere, but if she didn't, what stayed her hand? Was it truly respect for Tyrus? Or because she wanted Gavril's death? Wanted someone else to do it? Not Tyrus. Never Tyrus. He might be enraged now, but if she let him do this, he would suffer, more than Gavril.
"Defend yourself, Kitsune," she said. "Please."
Gavril's gaze flickered her way. His green eyes revealed nothing, but sweat trickled from his hairline and his braids seemed to quiver.
"Do you care at all?" she asked.
His mouth opened. Nothing came out for a moment. Then he collected himself and said, in his usual dispassionate way, "I was concerned for your well-being but I did what I thought necessary."
"I'm not asking if you care about me. Do you care about him?" She nodded to Tyrus. "Was there ever anything in your friendship? Or were you merely using him, as the emperor's son?"
"Of course not."
"Then prove it by showing him the respect of a fair fight."
Gavril's mouth worked, but nothing came. Sweat dripped from his chin now. He turned his gaze back to Tyrus.
"I am sorry. I deeply regret any pain I have caused you--"
"Caused me!" Tyrus's boot shot out and he kicked Gavril square in the stomach, knocking the young warrior onto his back. "You betrayed my trust, but you betrayed her in every possible way. And it's me you wish to apologize to?"
Tyrus brandished his sword. Even standing behind him, Moria realized he could not bring himself to swing it--as enraged as he was, that went too far. Yet having said he would, if he failed to follow through, the loss of face . . .
"Tyrus!"
Moria lunged, as if he'd been about to make the fatal blow. She put her hand against his back, feeling the bunched muscles, smelling the stink of sweat--of rage and grief and fear--as she whispered into his ear.
"Please, don't," she said, loud enough for Gavril to hear. "You'll suffer more than he will, and I'll not have that. Please."
When Tyrus hesitated, Daigo leaped onto Gavril.
"Daigo!" Moria said. She gripped her dagger, ready to whip it if Gavril made one move to hurt her wildcat, but before he could move, Daigo had him pinned, his powerful jaws around Gavril's throat. And that's when Moria saw true terror in Gavril's eyes. The honest realization that he might die.
"Call off your wildcat, Keeper," a voice said.
Moria looked up to see Lysias walking toward them, followed by the emperor.
Lysias said again, "Call him off. Please, my lady."
"She cannot," Gavril managed. "He is a Wildcat of the Immortals. Possessed by the spirit of a great warrior. Bond-beast to the Keeper. Not her pet. Not her hunting cat. She cannot command him."
"I would suggest she try," Lysias said.
"No," Emperor Tatsu said as he walked into the clearing. "Gavril is right. This choice is Daigo's. Please sheathe your sword, Lysias."
"Let me speak to Moria," Gavril said, looking the wildcat in the eyes. "Allow me to explain, Daigo, and she will understand."
"And therefore not deserve an apology?" Tyrus said, sword still in hand as he moved alongside Gavril and the wildcat.