"I know. Thank you."
"You performed very well at the gravesite." She turned toward him. "I presume it was a performance?"
"Of course. My opinions may change, Moria, but not so tempestuously. We must maintain our roles."
"I will be more careful in our interactions as well."
He shrugged. "We are not what the rumors accuse us of being, so perhaps it is simpler to allow them to see that the truth is . . . complicated."
That was the word, wasn't it? Complicated.
"I am deeply sorry about your mother's passing," Moria said after a few moments. "I ought to have said that earlier."
"You showed it. That's enough." A few more moments passed before he said, "Did I ever say the same to you? About your father? I was. I am. Deeply sorry."
Moria nodded and listened to the creaking of the wagon wheels. Wind blasted through the cracks, and she reached as if to pull her cloak tighter. Gavril handed her a blanket. She wrapped it around her shoulders.
"We'll get your cloak back," he said. "I know it means a great deal to you."
"Whether I get it back or not, I'm glad you found it in his shop."
"I wish I never had to find it. I wish he could have given it--" He shook his head and lapsed back into silence, his knees pulled up again, chin resting on them.
"Can you tell me what happened in Edgewood?" she asked.
"Madness."
She glanced over. The moon had passed behind clouds, and only darkness came through the hole in the top of the wagon. All she could see of Gavril were the whites of his eyes and the green irises, glowing as if by sorcery.
He continued. "I've told you I played no role in your father's death or your town's massacre, but that is disingenuous. Of course I played a role. The mere fact that I knew my father lived and that he planned to launch his bid for the imperial throne from there--the very place he'd been exiled--means I must share blame."
"It was the massacre you knew nothing about."
"I . . . I expected a military attack. Against the guards. I knew the military was still favorable to my father, so I thought he would strike but tell them the truth, how he'd been wronged, and with his eloquence, the guards would understand and capitulate and join us and . . . And I was a fool."
"What did you think was happening when the shadow stalkers attacked?"
"Truly?" He lifted his head to look at her. "I thought it was
a mistake. My father knows powerful magics, and I feared he had accidentally unleashed them against innocents. Or that sorcerers working with him had done it. When you told me the town was gone, well, you do have an imagination, and you are fond of bloody and terrible stories. I thought a few people had died and you . . ."
"Saw a lizard and thought it a dragon?"
"Yes. Even when I witnessed it myself, I thought it was a tragic accident. The fact that the children were safe seemed proof of that. The magics had gone terribly awry, and my father mitigated it as best he could by rescuing the children."
"Which was not the case."
Gavril went silent so long that Moria thought he was finished speaking, and she began to move away. Then, he said, "I was wrong about many, many things, Keeper. In Edgewood, I called you a child flitting after butterflies, but that was me. Chasing a dream of a parent who never existed. My memory turned him into a father who was harsh but fair. A man struggling against fate and a traitorous friend, a man who became embittered because of it, but still good and honorable."
"And he is not."
Gavril's harsh laugh startled her. "I'm not even certain he's human."
She remembered the bodies behind the house, thinking that whoever had done such a thing could not be human. She shook off the chill. No, Alvar was capable of many things, but not that. Kiri Kitsune had been his wife. Mother to his child.
"In the compound, you called him mad," she said. "He slapped you for it. Do you believe he is?"
"Perhaps I'm still clinging to excuses. But if it is madness, it is not the sort that pardons his actions. He knows full well what he does." Gavril shook his head. "That's enough. You ought to get some sleep, Keeper."