“Keep lying low,” Tyrus said. “Hiding.”
“Which you will hate, as I can tell by your tone. But you’re a more gifted politician than you care to admit, Tyrus. You know full well that I do not dare plead your case under the current circumstances. That doesn’t mean, however, that I’m not trying to clear your name. The first step is to break Simeon, which won’t be easy when he’s now considered a hero. I can hardly throw him into my dungeons and interrogate him.”
“So where is he?”
“He was in the court. As an honored guest… under very close guard, supposedly for his own protection. He’s now joined an expedition heading to the eastern provinces. Sadly, he’ll vanish in the night. Perhaps he already has. It’s difficult to schedule these things.”
“I’m not sure you’ll get more from him than the admission that he lied,” Tyrus said. “While it’s possible someone was directing his betrayal, I fear he may have acted on his own, after Ashyn rejected his advances.”
“Rejected his…?” The emperor shook his head. “I would certainly hope he would have a better reason than that for accusing an imperial prince of treason, but with young men, one never knows.”
They crossed a streambed riding single file. Daigo took a running leap and jumped from shore to shore.
“Now, Moria,” the emperor said. “We’ve heard Tyrus’s tale. I’d like to hear yours.”
“First, if I may ask, your imperial highness, has there been any word of the children?”
“No, child. My scouts and spies search, but there is no sign of them. I can only trust Alvar realizes their value and would not harm them.”
She nodded and told him her story, starting with the events on the battlefield and ending with a simple, “I was captured and held hostage until I managed to escape.”
“May I ask about the nature of your captivity? You were cared for, I presume?”
Moria tried not to hesitate. She could feel Tyrus’s gaze on her, and she was determined not to let him know about the dungeon.
“I was adequately cared for, your highness. My needs were met, though I was clearly a captive.”
“And who was in charge of your keeping?”
Now she did hesitate. When the silence stretched too long, he glanced at her. “Rumor says it was Gavril Kitsune. Well, that is, the rumor that confirms you were a captive, which is harder to come by than the one that says you were his…” His gaze slid Tyrus’s way and he cleared his throat. “That you were Gavril’s ally. My sources are, fortunately, more widespread than that, and one within the Kitsune camp says Alvar put his son in charge of your care. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“And he did care for you. You were not abused?”
“I… was not.”
He didn’t seem to notice the catch in her voice. “As I should expect. Beyond the lack of abuse, though, did he care for you well?”
Moria swore she smelled the faint stink of sweat waft up. This was like treading across a field laced with traps. To admit she’d been mistreated would cause Tyrus further guilt. To say she’d been treated well was a lie that spoke kindly of someone who’d done nothing to deserve her kindness.
“Gavril ensured I had what I needed. Food, water, clean clothing… He eventually allowed me to take walks, under guard. His father keeps him very busy, so days would pass without my seeing him, making it difficult to judge his level of involvement with my care.”
The emperor nodded. He seemed not to pay undue attention to her words, as if he’d already drawn conclusions and asked only to be polite.
“Now, speaking of rumors, Moria, I hear that on the night of your escape, Alvar hosted a party.”
“Yes…”
“And that party was to celebrate your betrothal to Gavril Kitsune.”
“What?” Tyrus said, pulling his horse up short.
“No,” Moria said. “I mean, yes, it was, but there was no – It was – It had nothing to do with me.”
“I wasn’t questioning that,” Tyrus said, his voice softening. “I mean, is this some scheme of Gavril’s? If he tried to force you into a betrothal —”
“No, he was as upset over it as I was. It was his father’s scheme. And even he knew well enough to promise Gavril there would be no wedding. The ruse was intended to —”
“— spiritually validate his claim to the imperial throne.” The emperor turned to Tyrus. “What Moria says is exactly what I heard. While we do not allow our Keepers and Seekers to marry, there is precedent from the Age of Fire. The clans were at war, and the goddess supposedly bestowed a Seeker on one of the chieftains as his wife. He began winning his battles, which solidified his claim to hold the goddess’s favor. He became king – a ruthless one – and his successor passed the law against marrying Keepers and Seekers. Now, suddenly, people are whispering the name of that forgotten king and embellishing his deeds. Alvar was always a master at the art of spreading stories.”
“So he says his son has won the love of a Keeper,” Tyrus said. “Proving him a young warrior truly blessed by the goddess.”
Emperor Tatsu nodded. “While that makes a good story, he has more prosaic reasons for the union. The tale of Moria’s betrayal is prevalent, yet there are whispers of the truth – of her captivity.”