Sea of Shadows (28 page)

Fifty-five

M
oria bolted upright, pulse racing, mind on fire, knowing she had to do something, had to get somewhere, but she was momentarily dazed. She looked around.

Where am I?

An empty room. Her gaze snagged on one of her daggers lying on the floor, and it all rushed back.

“Daigo!”

She grabbed the dagger and ran. She tore across the gardens and threw open the door to their quarters. As she raced through, she could see Daigo lying on the cushion, a pool of crimson beside him.

“Moria?”

It was Ashyn, but Moria barely heard her. She flew to Daigo as the wildcat rose, stretching and snarling a yawn. He let out a chirp as she dropped to her knees, running her hands up and down his sides.

She could see and feel no injury.

Her gaze shot to the crimson pool. It was a bright-red cushion he’d been lying on. She kept patting him down, certain there was something. He rubbed his cheek against hers as a purr rumbled through him. Behind her, Tova whined and Ashyn hurried over.

“Moria? What’s wrong?”

“He’s hurt. When you were gone. He came in and hurt him.”

“What?” Ashyn’s hand closed on her shoulder. “When did I leave?”

Moria gulped breath as her heart slowed. She couldn’t find any sign of injury on Daigo. In fact, he seemed rested and recovered from his infection.

“Moria?”

She turned to Ashyn. “Did you leave the room?”

“No, I’ve been in bed the whole time. Reading my book.”

Moria stood. “Gavril lied to escape. He said he’d hurt Daigo so I’d come straight here before raising the alarm.”

“Gavril?”

She turned to her sister and told her everything.

“I—I don’t understand,” Ashyn said when Moria had finished. “That’s not possible.”

“The Seeking party never found Marshal Kitsune’s body, did they?” Moria paced the floor, fury and rage fresh again.

“No, I
can
believe the marshal survived. I
can
believe he would strike against the emperor. While I find it difficult to believe any person could do it in that way—raising shadow stalkers and annihilating a village of innocents—I do not know the marshal. But I do know Gavril, and that is what I cannot believe. That he was part of this.”

“He admitted it. He used us and betrayed us, and he played a role in the massacre of our village and the death of our father.” She gripped her dagger. “For that, I’ll kill him.”

“Moria, don’t talk like that.”

“Like what?” Moria spun on her sister. “Don’t threaten to kill the boy who helped massacre every person in our village? Who helped murder our father? Gavril Kitsune’s life will end by my hand, Ashyn. I swear it.”

Her sister dropped her gaze, mouth setting in a way that told Moria she would resume the discussion at a more suitable time. Moria continued pacing the room.

“Now that we know this, we need to decide how to handle—”

Ashyn leaped up. “We must tell someone. Immediately.”

“All right. We’ll summon—”

“No.” Ashyn gripped her arm. “We must raise the alarm. You said that is why Gavril tricked you—so he could escape. If anyone finds out that we
allowed
him to escape, that we discussed the matter and merely summoned a servant to request an audience . . .”

Ashyn was right, of course. They’d delayed too long already, and every extra moment would count against them.

Moria raced for the door.

A fast rider had arrived, saying Emperor Tatsu was on his way, coming quickly, and he expected all parties involved to be in the throne room when he arrived. Moria and Ashyn had been there since shortly after they’d burst from their room, calling for help.

It had been chaos—the court steward convinced the girls were hysterical, waking from some nightmare. Then they discovered Gavril was gone. And the young master of the library confirmed that the seal on the letter did indeed belong to Marshal Kitsune.

The steward, clearly out of his depth, summoned his superior—the minister of the imperial household. Not the correct choice, he’d discovered, as he’d been soundly rebuked in front of the girls, while the minister sent word back to the palace.

The chancellor was brought, along with two of the major counselors and the marshal’s head general—the marshal himself was with the emperor. Ashyn had gotten only partway through her story before they were joined by the crown prince and the whole tale had to be retold.

So it was chaos, and Moria could not decide whether to be infuriated or relieved. Had Gavril still been in the city when all the confusion began, he clearly was not by the time the guards were properly alerted. However, those delays meant no one could blame his disappearance on her own delays in telling someone of his treachery.

And so they waited. People came and went. Tyrus was there. She’d seen him slip in, and he’d nodded to her, but he kept his distance. Being cautious around his brothers. Based on her conversation with the library master, Ashyn had said there were four princes in the imperial family. Several princesses, too, though all were married and living elsewhere. Of the official bastards, Tyrus was the only son. Or the only one still living—Ashyn said the master had not elaborated on that. Moria did not, then, blame Tyrus for avoiding his half brothers.

Apparently all four were there, though only the crown prince had been introduced. There was a steady stream of others, too, ministers and such, and when the doors opened again to admit yet another group of men, Moria was beginning to wonder where they’d fit them all.

This last group looked much like the others. Middle-aged men, all warriors, all moving briskly, heads high. The one in front was the shortest of the group. A broad-shouldered man with a severe face, well formed for his age, empire-born and perhaps in his fifth decade, his dark hair entwined with gray. He had flashing, dark eyes that reminded her of a hawk’s, scanning the room as he moved fast. His sleeves were pushed up and she could see his tattoos. They looked like . . .

She glanced over at Tyrus and the dragons circling his forearms. Then she looked at the man walking in . . . with dragons inked on his arms. Her gaze dropped to his breeches and boots, both filthy with the sweat and dust of a hard ride.

It was only then that everyone else seemed to notice the newcomers. The room went silent. Then men rushed forward to take Emperor Tatsu’s cloak and offer him cold water and hot tea, but he waved them off impatiently. They lined a route to the emperor’s seat—a raised chair at the head of a long table. The man ignored them, instead striding into the room and looking around. His gaze fell on the girls.

He gave a short laugh. “You two are easily spotted, even in this crowd.”

As he walked over, Ashyn bowed as deeply as she could, and Moria tried to emulate her. She was not as adept at social graces, but she also had to struggle not to keep staring at the man.

This is the emperor. Our emperor.

In the days before, she’d prepared for this moment. She would be polite, despite her feelings about the man who had exiled Gavril’s father, and exiled Gavril, too, in a way, cruelly sending him to guard his father’s death place.

Except Gavril’s father hadn’t died. And whether Marshal Kitsune was innocent or guilty of the charges that had led to his exile, the blood of Moria’s entire village stained his hands.

She wasn’t even sure now whether Gavril had been sent to Edgewood or volunteered for the post, to aid his father’s plan.

“The Keeper and the Seeker of Edgewood,” Emperor Tatsu said. “I am so sorry for your loss.”

Ashyn dropped her gaze and Moria could see her eyes filling. She kept hers on the emperor.

“We will have justice for Edgewood,” he said. “And we will free the children.”

Ashyn lifted her head and held out the envelope. One of the ministers rushed forward, pulling her arm back, glowering at her.

“The emperor has just arrived,” one snapped. “You will not shove that at him—”

“She did not.” Emperor Tatsu returned the man’s glower tenfold as he took the envelope. “She handed it to me as quickly as possible, because she is well aware of the urgency of the situation. Unlike those who would have me take off my boots and sip tea first.” He shot his glare around the room. “What are all of you doing here? This is not an acrobatic performance.”

“We thought you might need us, your imperial—”

“I sent word telling who I needed in this room. The rest of you will hear what is in this missive when I am ready to share it. Now, begone. Quickly.”

The mass of ministers and counselors started for the door. When the crown prince tried to remain at his father’s side, the emperor snapped, “You, too. Begone.” He paused and then turned to the mass of exiting men. “Tyrus? Where’s Tyrus?”

The young man was almost out. He backed into the room.

“Come back, boy. You know Gavril Kitsune, don’t you?”

“We trained together, Father, though it has been almost two summers—”

“Good enough. You’ll stay.” Tyrus ducked his brothers’ glares as he approached. The emperor continued snapping orders, expelling men from the room.

“I am sorry,” Tyrus whispered to Moria. “About Gavril. I could tell you two were close.”

“You misjudged, your highness. He was merely a traveling companion.”

“Yes,” Tyrus murmured. “That is for the best. Say that to all who ask. I am sorry for it, though.”

“But not surprised?”

He seemed confused by the question. “It is his father. He must do as he is told. Filial piety comes before everything, even obedience to the empire.”

“Even obedience to one’s conscience? Slaughtering innocents is acceptable if your father commands it?”

Ashyn tried to shush her, eyes wide with alarm, but Tyrus said, “No, which is why I am certain there is more to it. Gavril is prickly, but he has a true heart. He is always honorable.”

“There’s no mistake, your highness. He accepted full responsibility.”

“There is more. I am certain—”

“Tyrus?” the emperor said. “While I do hate to pull you away from a pretty girl . . .”

Tyrus turned to his father, gaze dropping as he murmured an apology. The emperor clapped him on the shoulder and waved everyone to the table. As they walked, Emperor Tatsu opened the envelope and pulled out the missive.

The men who had stayed were the chancellor, all three major counselors, and one of the warriors who’d arrived with the emperor. He was short, slightly squat, breathing heavily as he tried to keep up with Emperor Tatsu. An older man, the summers weighing heavily on him. From the way he dogged the emperor’s steps, she presumed he was an attendant, until Tyrus leaned in and whispered, “Marshal Mujina.”

He did not look like a man of war, and she wondered briefly if Tyrus was referring to someone else. But she could see the man’s tattoos were marks of the Mujina—the badgers. He did rather resemble one. An aged badger, toothless and slow. Not a man Moria could imagine leading an army. Perhaps that was the point—after Marshal Kitsune, the emperor wanted a man he could control. This marshal certainly looked controlled, hurrying after the emperor and then sliding past him to quietly take his seat at the man’s left hand.

The chancellor sat at the lesser, right-hand position, with the major counselors beside him. Tyrus tried to seat Moria beside the marshal, but she motioned for Ashyn to go there instead—she ought to speak for them. Tyrus gave Moria the next seat, and pulled out the one beside her as Daigo and Tova wedged in beside their girls.

No one had spoken a word on the walk to the table. No one spoke now either, the room silent as the emperor read. When he passed the missive to the marshal, his face was unreadable, his gaze distant.

“This is—” Marshal Mujina said. “He cannot expect—”

“Of course he doesn’t.” The emperor snatched the letter and handed it to the chancellor, motioning for the major counselors to read it after him.

When the last counselor handed it back, his face somber, the emperor folded it, then held it out across the table. He was clearly passing it to Ashyn, but she sat there, looking confused, until Tyrus nudged her. Even then, she took it carefully, gaze on the emperor, as if waiting for him to rescind it.

“You brought it this far,” he said. “You ought to read it. Seeker, is it? Ashyn?”

She nodded.

“You and your sister will read it, so there can be no question that what we claim is in that letter is true. Otherwise, I suspect there will be those who think we must be misrepresenting the situation.”

“It is the old marshal, then?” Moria said. “Marshal Kitsune?”

“It is. As you will see, he includes information known only to the two of us. We grew up together. It is he. He threatens to destroy Fairview if I do not step down immediately and cede the imperial throne to him.”

“Cede—? But that is—he cannot expect—” Moria inhaled sharply. “He does not expect it. He is asking for what he cannot have. He means to incite war.”

“Yes, apparently even a child can see his true purpose.” The emperor shot a glare at his marshal. “It would be difficult for me to make any concessions to an exiled traitor. If he were, however, to ask for something reasonable, such as a pardon, negotiations could be held. This is beyond negotiations. He will have war. The destruction of Fairview and the death of Edgewood’s children would lie at my feet.”

“But . . .” Ashyn’s head shot up from her reading. “Fairview? The children? Are they lost, then?”

“No, child. Rescuing them will be our first priority, one that can hopefully be accomplished before Alvar Kitsune realizes we’ve refused his generous offer.”

“But war?” the marshal said. “How does he imagine he’d win that? His mercenaries cannot outnumber our troops.”

“I’m quite certain he hopes to win some of his former men to his side. I’m equally certain he already has, and they are merely awaiting his signal.” He gave his marshal a hard look. “You have told me that your warriors are content. Now we will see the truth of that.”

“But war?” the chancellor said. “Against shadow stalkers?”

“And more,” Ashyn said quietly.