Forest of Ruin (30 page)

T
yrus, Moria, and Daigo all lunged at Alvar . . . and he extinguished the lights, as he had before. Gavril got his sorcerer's fire lit, but by then his father was gone and the hall had erupted into madness. There was no other word for it. Simple madness.

Alvar had not come alone. He'd brought a troop of warriors, who'd apparently been living in the imperial city and who'd easily marched through the palace gates while everyone dealt with the shadow stalkers. Then they were in the palace itself—the warriors plus the palace guards turned shadow stalkers. Tatsu's men fought hard and fierce, and soon a dozen bodies littered the floor—half of them Alvar's men—but between the sorcery and the shadow stalkers, they did not stand a chance. One moment Moria was dispelling the last of the shadows stalkers while Tyrus and Gavril fought off those who would stop her. And then every lantern burned bright again and Alvar
Kitsune stood on the throne dais, Emperor Tatsu pinned with a sword at his throat.

“No!” Tyrus was the first to shout it. The only one to shout it. The only one to rush forward, his blade out.

“Stop,” Alvar said. “Or I
will
kill him.”

Gavril grabbed Tyrus's arm. The prince went to throw him off, but Moria gripped his other arm, and Tyrus stopped.

“Good,” Alvar said. “You play at being leader, but you bend easily to the will of stronger friends. Sound familiar, Jiro?”

The emperor stood motionless, blood soaking his tunic. Not his blood. He'd fought as hard as any warrior and had been captured not by skill but by sorcery. Moria was certain of that.

“Do you think I plan to kill you, Jiro? No. That would be too simple. You will survive tonight. Then your suffering will begin in earnest, as you look back on this day and realize that everything that happened here was your own fault.”

A long moment of silence.

“Not even going to defend yourself?” Alvar asked.

“To whom? To you, old friend? You know what happened. You know what you did, and what I was forced to do in return. Put whatever slant on it you like, but there's no sense defending myself to the person who knows the truth as well as I do.”

“Brave words. Do you believe them, Jiro?”

“I believe the truth.”

“So do I. Let's talk about the truth. The truth is that you stole my life to protect your throne. Then, to continue protecting it, you attempted to steal my son. To leave me no heir, in hopes that would kill my spirit. Shall I tell you a secret, Jiro?” Alvar leaned down to the emperor, a handspan shorter than he.
In a loud, mock-whisper, he said, “My son never truly returned to yours. He betrayed you. Again.”

Gavril stiffened, his green eyes widening, and in those eyes, Moria didn't see guilt. She knew she wouldn't. Tyrus didn't even glance over to gauge Gavril's reaction. What Moria saw was what she would have expected: shock. It was not until that moment, realizing she did not believe Alvar for a heartbeat, that she knew she'd forgiven Gavril. That she trusted him as much as she had that first night in the garden. He'd made mistakes. He'd suffered—horribly—for them. But he had, in his own way, never truly betrayed her or Tyrus. Nor would he now.

Alvar's lips pursed. “Perhaps betrayed is not the right word. My son . . . struggles. He is a young man caught in a storm, uncertain where to find shelter. He turned to you, but his heart was not truly in it, because his heart—his loyalty—remains with me. He is young, though, and more naive than I would have hoped. That is his mother's influence.”

“Which you put an end to,” the emperor said.

“Is that what he said? That I'm the one who killed her? As I said, he's confused. I would never do such a thing.”

Emperor Tatsu snorted. Alvar's eyes narrowed, and he pressed his blade tip into the emperor's throat.

“Go on,” the emperor said. “Please.”

“There is no more to say. My son is confused. He ran from me, but I am his father. I understand, and I forgive him.” He turned to those assembled below. “Gavril? Join me.”

Gavril hesitated. Moria murmured, “Go. We know,” which meant that she did not doubt his loyalty, and that he was safer going along with his father's delusion.
They
were also safer if
he did, putting him in a position where he might be able to do something. Tyrus gave the smallest nod, seconding Moria's words, and Gavril stiffly made his way to the dais.

It wasn't until Gavril started up the steps that Moria had another, horrible, thought. What if Alvar was tricking Gavril? Was that not exactly what he dealt in—tricks and misdirection? Get Gavril on that dais so he could punish him for his betrayal?

Moria rocked forward, ready to run and grab Gavril back, knowing even as she did that it was too late, that if she'd been mistaken . . .

She was not. While Alvar did not let his gaze linger affectionately on Gavril, as the emperor did with Tyrus, he glanced over, satisfaction glowing in his eyes. Satisfaction with a flash of arrogance and self-pride.
Is he not a fine young warrior? Of course—he is my son
.

It was not truly unlike Emperor Tatsu with Tyrus. Except with Tyrus, the emperor had no doubt of his son's loyalty. Alvar did . . . and refused to believe it. He had deluded himself, perhaps as much as he had about the crimes that had gotten him exiled. An ego that did not allow for the possibility he'd been wrong—about his friend, his exile, or his son.

“There,” Alvar said as Gavril approached him. “His loyalty to you, Jiro, and to your fool of a son? Temporary and convenient. My son spends too much time in his head. I would not wish otherwise, or I'd have one like that.” He waved a dismissive hand at Tyrus. “But a young man who thinks too much also questions too much. Doubts too much. He will outgrow that and be a brilliant emperor. Sadly, your son will not outgrow his
foolishness. No more than you did.”

“You seem quite fixated on insulting Tyrus,” the emperor said. “Careful, Alvar, or we might think you see him as a threat. I hear he faced you in single combat, and you ran from it. Fled a fight you could not win? Tell me again how you did not run from the battlefield.”

Alvar pushed his blade tip into the emperor's throat, blood trickling down. When Emperor Tatsu didn't even flinch, Alvar closed his eyes briefly, as if getting his temper under control. Behind him, Gavril shifted, his gaze fixed on Alvar, his blade still in hand.

Could Gavril kill his father? Risk eternal damnation for it? Even if he had the will, his father made him stand too far away, where Alvar could still see him. Wanting to trust his son . . . but knowing not to press the matter.

“I speak of Tyrus because I am reminding you of his faults,” Alvar said. “I'm helping you to make a decision, Jiro.”

Now he got his reaction, the emperor tensing, his gaze swinging to Tyrus.

Alvar chuckled. “You don't even make an effort to hide your affections, do you? As big a fool as he is. As soft, too. You love him best because he reminds you of yourself. That is a breathtaking act of ego, my old friend.”

“No,” the emperor said carefully. “I love all my sons for the young men they are, for all the ways they are
not
like me.”

“Oh, such pretty words. Let's test that love.”

Alvar waved and Moria looked over to see the three imperial princes standing together. The fourth . . . ? She looked around quickly, only to see him on the floor. Dead. She sucked
in a breath. In the chaos, she hadn't even realized one of Tyrus's brothers had perished.

She was still staring at the prince's body when Tyrus lunged, and she thought he'd only just realized his half brother had died, and it didn't matter if they'd never shown him a moment's kindness, he would still care. She looked over, though, to see his gaze elsewhere—and before she could see what he was running toward, he stopped short, swinging back to her, his blade rising.

That's when she felt cold steel against the back of her neck.

“Don't prove yourself to be the fool you seem, boy,” Alvar said. “Lower your weapons to the floor. That goes for every armed man—and woman—here. Blades on the ground or I put mine through your emperor's throat.”

When Tyrus hesitated, the blade dug deeper into Moria's neck. She did not flinch, but Tyrus still put his blades down.

“Good, now retreat to her side and stay there. My man will remain where he is. If you move from that spot, Tyrus, the girl dies.”

Rage whipped through Moria, and she wanted to say it didn't matter, that Tyrus should pay her predicament no mind. She would say it if he could kill Alvar. But there was no chance of that.

When Daigo growled, Alvar laughed. “Same goes for you, wildcat, and let's hope you truly are imbued with a human soul and can understand me. Otherwise, your dear Keeper may die for nothing.”

Daigo pressed against her, as if to say,
I'm here
, but he stopped growling. That's when Moria looked up at the dais and
realized why Tyrus had leaped forward. Guards had brought one of his brothers up. The other two—the crown prince and his next younger brother—stood where they'd been, not needing anyone to restrain them, their expressions saying they were simply glad they hadn't been chosen.

“Kneel,” Alvar said to the prince beside him.

The young man did.

Alvar turned to the emperor. “Would you like your son to live?”

Emperor Tatsu glared at him. “That is obvious and—”

“Is it obvious? Let's see. You may let him live. Simply order Tyrus to take his place.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Give the word. Your bastard dies. Your legitimate son lives.”

The emperor's glower only hardened.

“Is that a no? Not surprising, I'll admit.”

Alvar nodded and one of the guards restraining the prince lifted his blade over the young man's neck. A woman in the crowd screamed. Tyrus shouted “No!” but he did not move, could not move, and even if he had, it would have been too late. The blade came down and the prince's head fell to the floor. Two women shrieked and rushed for the dais, and Moria looked to see what had to be the young man's mother and his wife. Guards restrained them.

Alvar had the next son brought up. That's when the crown prince did react—he tried to pull his sword, not to save his brother, but knowing what was coming next. More of Alvar's warriors had arrived during the commotion. They restrained
the crown prince and Tyrus, just to be sure, and they held the women at sword point.

The emperor tried to get free then, even if getting free meant a blade through his throat. But before he could do more than grab for Alvar, warriors were there to restrain him.

Alvar gave the emperor the option again: have Tyrus change places with his other son. Emperor Tatsu spat curses and raged. But he did not agree. And the guards executed the second prince.

When they hauled the crown prince to the dais, Emperor Tatsu could barely form curses, snarling that the ancestors and the goddess herself would make Alvar answer for this.

“No,” Alvar said. “The goddess will understand. This is my revenge. She smiles on me in my victory. The question is what will
you
allow, Jiro. You have one legitimate son left. One heir to your throne. True, you will not have a throne much longer, but I don't expect you to believe that. Now comes the true test, when you have the chance to prove yourself a worthy leader . . . or a sentimental old fool. Make your choice.”

“There is no choice!” Emperor Tatsu spat. “You seek only to hurt me. You will not allow any of them to live. You wish only to hear the words, to hear me grovel and beg for my sons, to make the terrible choice of sacrificing one for another, but I will not, because there is no choice.”

“Oh, but there is. You have my absolute word on that. One of your sons will survive tonight. It is up to you to choose who. Your heir or your bastard.”

“I will not—”

“Of course you will not, because you cannot. You choose Tyrus. You may say you don't believe me, but you know me to be a man of my word. You only pretend otherwise so that you are not judged for your choice. Say the word and Tyrus takes your heir's place.”

The hall went silent. And Jiro Tatsu said nothing.

The guard lifted the blade.

“I'll do it!” Tyrus shouted.

Moria turned to him, words stoppered in her throat, telling herself he was not saying what he seemed to be—

“I will give my life in my brother's place. For the empire.”

Moria looked at Alvar, her heart beating so hard she could barely draw breath.
Tell him no. I don't care if it's wrong. Just tell him—

“Approach and take his place then.”

“No!” Moria screamed and threw herself forward, not caring that there was a blade at her neck, thinking only that she had to stop this, in any way she could, and whatever happened next, all that mattered was that she could not live knowing she hadn't tried.

Daigo sprang, too, but more guards grabbed Moria and one kicked Daigo in the head, hard enough for the wildcat to fall. Moria screamed again, and Tyrus fell beside Daigo, his hands going to the beast's heart.

“He's fine,” he said. Then he rose, slowly, his gaze on Moria. “I need to do this.”

“No, you do
not
,” she said, struggling against the men who held her. “They wouldn't do it for you. They'd wield the blade themselves if they could.”

“That doesn't matter. It isn't about them. It's about the empire. Leaving an heir.”

“What heir? Him?” She jabbed her finger at the crown prince. “He's one-tenth the man you are, and your father knows it.”

“But I cannot be heir.”

“My vision. I saw—”

“No, Moria.” He walked over and put his hands on her face. “It's not about me or about my brother. It's about keeping the empire whole.” He leaned in and kissed her. “I love you.”