Hands grabbed her. It happened so fast that she didn't have time to respond. Hands wrenched her away from Ashyn. Ashyn screamed. Moria slashed with her dagger but blindly, feeling it slice through air and then--
Her feet slid out, her face crushed against something bitter cold. Then light returned and she was staring at dragon scales, someone pinning her against the beast.
Moria fought wildly. She heard Ashyn call out, trying to find her, then Tyrus's roar of rage, Gavril's shout of "No!" and then there was a flash of light, blindingly bright, and the hold on her neck eased just enough for her to twist as the dagger plunged toward her.
THIRTY-EIGHT
The blade sliced into her side. She slammed down her own dagger, hitting a bare arm, seeing blood arc, seeing dark skin and the nine-tailed fox splitting as her blade cut through it. She looked up to see Alvar Kitsune's face. She stabbed again and so did he. His blade into her side, hers into his shoulder. Ashyn leaped at Alvar, dagger raised, but Alvar snarled something, some sorcery, and she flew back into the wall.
Ronan twisted toward Ashyn, letting out a curse, and Edwyn tried to fling himself free, but Ronan spun on him, blade flashing, blood spraying. Tyrus grabbed Alvar hard enough to throw him off balance. He went to catch Moria before she toppled, but Gavril pulled her away, and Tyrus wheeled on him, shock in his eyes, his face then contorting into a snarl, his blade rising.
"I can help her," Gavril said. "Heal her. I can't . . ."
He glanced toward his father, and they knew what he meant. I cannot fight him. Gavril's gaze dropped, as if in shame, but Tyrus was already bearing down on Alvar as the older man got to his feet. Edwyn lay on the floor, dead, Ronan's blade bloodied. Ronan was helping Ashyn up, but she pushed him off, then grabbed a torch from one of the fallen women and ran to Gavril, letting him light it as he held Moria. She glanced at her sister, her face dark with panic.
Moria mouthed a weak, I'm fine, and motioned for Ashyn to stand where she could light the cave for the others.
"Tyrus," Alvar said. "I would barely have recognized you without that ink on your arms. No longer a skinny boy tagging after my son like a lost puppy."
"Unsheathe your sword," Tyrus said. "You are not raising dragons this day."
"I have no intention of raising them."
"Do not lie. You collaborated with this Northern sorcerer to trick Ashyn and raise dragons against my father. Dragons to fight a Tatsu, proving even the goddess favored you. Which she clearly does not, as you see."
"I deny none of that, except the part about the goddess. She does favor me, as you will see. I meant only that I will not raise these dragons. That is what these girls are for."
"Unsheathe your sword!" Tyrus snarled. "Now!"
"And there it is: proof that you are both the boy I remember and the true son of Jiro Tatsu. An honor-bound fool. You could have killed me. Cut off my head while I attacked the young Keeper. Even now, you could try. Swing before I can pull my sword."
"Gavril?" Tyrus said, still advancing.
That was all he said, but it snapped Gavril out of his trance, and he lowered Moria onto the sleeping dragon.
"I have her," Gavril called back. "She'll be fine."
"Oh my," Alvar said. "You take orders from Jiro's bastard now, Gavril? You are even weaker than I feared. And what do you take orders to do? See to the girl, because young Tyrus cannot fully devote himself to this fight if he thinks she is dying. That is not mere piety, is it, Tyrus? You do not simply worry about her because she is a Keeper."
"Unsheathe your sword," Tyrus said.
"She's his lover, Gavril," Alvar said. "Are you too naive to have figured that out? Or is this what it's come to? I offer you an empire, and you choose to serve the emperor's bastard and his whore."
Gavril just kept lowering her to rest against the dragon. When she touched the cold scales and jumped, he murmured, "I have you," and she looked up at him and said, "I know."
Sabre and Dalain held the remaining two women and surviving warrior at bay. Ronan guarded Ashyn. Tyrus had Daigo, prowling back and forth at his heels.
"My father will not fight," Gavril whispered to Moria.
"Like you outside Lord Okami's compound."
Gavril shook his head. "I would not risk hurting Tyrus. My father will not risk being hurt. He has seen Tyrus's skill." He shifted her to rest more comfortably. "Now look at me."
When she didn't, he said, "Keeper? Look at me. I need you to relax so I may examine your wounds, and you cannot relax if you are tensed to leap to his rescue. If I hear any sign of trouble, I am at his side." He paused, then said, "Tyrus's, I mean."
She looked up at him and said again, "I know."
He nodded and peeled back her blood-soaked tunic. The sodden cloth seemed to have been holding the wound closed, and blood gushed. Gavril cursed. Ashyn gasped. Tyrus started to turn, pulled by Ashyn's gasp, and Alvar reached under his cloak--