“If she is betrothed to Gavril, it squashes those rumors.”
“Yes. I’m sure there are more reasons, too. Where a normal man has a single purpose for any given action, Alvar has nine.”
“But…” It was Dalain now, and they all turned to look at him. “While this is interesting, the Keeper is now free. Are you telling us we must be careful? That he’ll come for her?”
“No.” Emperor Tatsu turned to Moria. “I’m telling you, child, that you must go back.”
Silence. Stunned silence.
Tyrus broke it, saying carefully, “You could not have said what I think you did, Father.”
“I fear I did.” The emperor swung off his horse. “Dalain? Could you mind the steeds for us? I need to walk with my son and the Keeper.”
“No,” Tyrus said. “I don’t believe you do. If you are suggesting that Moria ought to return —”
“I’m saying she must return. To help us win this war.”
Moria scrambled off her horse. “Go back? To Alvar Kitsune? As what? A spy?”
“Exactly. I mentioned that I do have a contact in the camp, but it’s an imperfect one. A warrior who is simply an old man uncertain where his devotions lie and hoping war can be averted. He has no rank and cannot get me anything of use. I need a true spy in that camp. One who will, because of her new position, be free to slip about, assessing the situation, overhearing strategy, and reporting back to me. I need you, Moria. Back in Alvar’s camp.”
“How exactly would I do that?” she said. “Run to the gates and tell them I made a terrible mistake? If you suggest that I return and pretend I’m secretly in love with Gavril Kitsune and came back to be with him…” She choked on the words. “If I even attempted it, I’d give myself away so badly that Alvar would execute me as a spy before I finished my declaration.”
“I know,” the emperor said. “You’re no performer. I’d not ask you to do that. You will instead return as you originally arrived. As a hostage. Captured by someone who has been pursuing you since you escaped last night.”
“Who?”
“Me.”
The voice came from the forest, and with it her heart stopped.
No, it cannot be. I cannot recognize a voice from one word.
Everyone turned toward that voice as a figure stepped from the forest. A tall figure. Cloaked and hooded. He reached up to pull the hood down, and even as he did, Moria saw those fingers – long, dark fingers, the nails trimmed to the quick, and she knew she was right.
I cannot recognize a man by his fingers. I cannot.
Yes, she could.
Gavril pushed his hood back and stepped into the clearing. “You’ll be coming back with me, Keeper.”