Empire of Night

  DEDICATION

  To Julia

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Moria

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Ashyn

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Moria

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Ashyn

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Moria

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Ashyn

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Moria

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Ashyn

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Moria

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Forty-Five

  Forty-Six

  Ashyn

  Forty-Seven

  Forty-Eight

  Forty-Nine

  Moria

  Fifty

  Fifty-One

  Fifty-Two

  Fifty-Three

  Fifty-Four

  Fifty-Five

  Back Ads

  About the Author

  Books by Kelley Armstrong

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  ONE

  In retrospect, Moria should not have pulled her dagger when she was attempting to pass through the imperial city unnoticed. In truth, the pulling of the dagger was not so much a mistake as the throwing of it. Even the throwing of it wouldn't have been as grievous if her blade had missed its target. But if Moria pulled her dagger, she would throw it, and if she threw it, she would not miss, so the problem, she reasoned, could be traced back to the man responsible for the throwing of the blade.

  Of course, there was a reasonable chance she'd have been recognized even without the incident. All the city knew that the Keeper and Seeker of Edgewood were at the palace. Northerners weren't exceedingly rare, but when people were watching for a pale-skinned girl with red-gold hair, it was difficult to affect a sufficient disguise. And then there was the matter of Daigo . . .

  "I need to go into the city," she'd told him earlier as she'd fastened her cloak.

  He'd walked to the door and waited.

  "No, I need to go by myself. Quickly. Before Ashyn gets back."

  Daigo had planted himself in the doorway and fixed her with a baleful stare. The huge black Wildcat of the Immortals was her bond-beast, as much a part of her as her shadow. A very large, very conspicuous shadow. Luckily, unlike her sister's hound, Daigo didn't feel the need to stick to Moria's side like a starving leech. He'd kept pace with her along the rooftops.

  Moria was to meet Ronan in the third market, where merchants traded among themselves and with the casteless. He'd said to meet by the perfume stall. Presumably her nose would lead the way . . . except the crush of people meant she could smell only the stink of overheated bodies. The din of shouted barters didn't help. For sixteen summers, she'd lived in a village where "market day" meant four carts along an open roadway. This was enough to make her head ache.

  Taking a moment's break, she spotted a man following a girl of no more than twelve summers. He made her think of the children of Edgewood, held hostage by the former marshal. Orphaned and terrified, children who trusted her--and she was forced to trust the emperor to save them . . . while he entertained dignitaries from some kingdom she'd never heard of.

  As frustration flared, Moria watched the child. A merchant's daughter, her simple dress adorned with mismatched beads and crooked embroidery. The girl went from booth to booth, picking out the cheapest baubles and bargaining with the merchants.

  The man following her had leathery skin and the squint and rolling gait of a fisherman. Eyeing pretty young girls two castes below him and thinking them unlikely to complain, perhaps even welcoming his attention.

  Moria drew closer, her hand under her cloak, fingers wrapping around her dagger. She would let the man see that she was watching, in hopes that would frighten him off. If it did not, she would allow him to see the blade. A plan so devoid of her usual recklessness that even her sister would approve.

  Then a large woman--her arms loaded with goods--waddled into Moria's path. Moria swung around her, and by the time she did, the fisherman was right beside the girl, whose attention was fixed on some trinket.

  As the man's hand snaked into the folds of the girl's dress, Moria launched her blade. Her second blade followed so fast they seemed to fly as one. The daggers pinned the man's cloak to the stall behind him. There was a near-comic moment as he ran in place, pinned by his cloak. When he realized what bound him, he slipped free of his cloak.

  Before he could get more than two paces, a shadow landed in front of him and let out a snarl that reverberated through the square. People screamed. People fled.

  It was not, Moria mused, an inconspicuous entrance.

  Daigo pounced. The fisherman let out a scream and dropped to his knees, hands shielding his head. The wildcat plucked one dagger from the wooden stall, took it to Moria, and returned for the second.

  "He touched you?" Moria asked the girl.

  "Yes, my lady." The girl flushed. "Inappropriately."

  "I saw." Moria waved to two men standing nearby. "Deal with him."

  She turned to walk away, as if she could make such a spectacle and then slip into the crowd. It didn't help that there was no longer a crowd to slip into, most having fled the huge wildcat. Those who remained closed in as they realized who she was.

  "My lady . . ."

  "Keeper of Spirits."

  "Moria of Edgewood."

  "A blessing, my lady?"

  Moria reached into her pocket for a handful of coppers, blessed and threw them, hoping to slide away in the scramble that followed.

  A woman caught her cloak. "My thanks to you, Keeper. He has bothered girls before."

  "He won't anymore. I truly must--" She looked over her shoulder, but people pressed in, blocking her escape.

  "I heard your wildcat has a name," a little boy said as he squeezed through. "The court Keeper's cat has no name, but they say yours does."

  "Daigo."

  The boy reached out to pat the wildcat. Someone yelped a warning, but Daigo sat there, ears back, bracing himself to suffer the attention. Soon a half dozen children were patting and poking him.

  "We must go," Moria said. Before someone tells the guards I've left the palace court. She was not a prisoner, but she'd been ordered to stay within its walls for her own safety.

  "Did you truly throw those daggers?" one of the girls asked.

  "Like bolts of lightning," an old woman in the crowd said.

  "Spirit-blessed," someone said. "My uncle saw her when she entered the city. She threw her blades at a man who insulted Marshal Kitsune's son. He brought them here. Gavril Kitsune, returned to the city. Fortune shines on us."

  Fortune? Oh, no. That is not what shines. It is death and destruction, and Marshal Kitsune is at the center of it. Your hero is a monster. His son no better.

  "I--I must go."

  "Yes, you must," whispered
a voice at her ear. Fingers wrapped around her forearm and a firm hand tugged her through the crowd. A young man held her. Seventeen summers of age. Light brown skin. Dark curls hanging in his face.

  "Ronan," she murmured.

  "Hmm. Daigo? Help me get her out of here."

  TWO

  Daigo cleared a path through the crowd, bumping people and growling when they didn't move fast enough. Ronan nudged gawkers aside from the rear. Moria allowed herself to be led, well aware of the scene she'd caused and the trouble she was in. More important, she was aware of the trouble Ashyn could catch for not realizing her twin had left. If there was one thing that could melt the steel from Moria's spine, it was the prospect of causing her sister grief.

  Only once they were out of the square did she regain her stride. Ronan took the lead, and they wound down two alleyways before finding a dark corner behind a bakery, the sweet scent of honey cakes wafting out.

  Moria asked about his young brother and sister. After four moons of exile in the Forest of the Dead, he'd been anxious to return to his orphaned siblings, left in the care of an aunt he feared would have them picking pockets for their keep. But now he answered with a quick, "They're well," before saying, "You don't know the meaning of inconspicuous, do you? All I had to do was follow the commotion and there you were, in the midst of it."

  "I have no training in stealth and disguise," she said. "Nor any reason to learn. I'm the Keeper of Edgewood. I should walk where I wish."

  His look said she knew full well why she couldn't do that, but she only settled onto a crate. Daigo took a seat beside her, leaving Ronan standing.

  "How is your sister?" he asked.

  "As fine as can be expected, being held a virtual prisoner and worrying about the people of Fairview and the children of Edgewood."

  Ronan sighed. "You have no gift for the art of conversation, Moria. All right. I take it Ashyn is well. Please tell her . . ." He struggled long enough for words that Moria sighed with impatience.

  "I'll tell her you send your undying love and cannot wait to see her gentle face again."

  From the look on Ronan's face, you'd think she'd suggested telling Ashyn he wished her a slow and tortured death.

  "Fine," she said. "I'll tell her you asked after her and that it would be pleasant to speak with her, once she is permitted to do so."

  "Yes, thank you. I have great regard for your sister, but she is a Seeker, and I have good reason for not . . ."

  Moria peered at him. "Not what?"

  "I . . . have great regard for your sister."

  "Yes, yes, you said that. I didn't come to play matchmaker. I asked you to meet me--"

  "Summoned would be a better word." He crouched against the wall. "Is it about Gavril? I heard that he has left the city."

  "Yes, but that is not--"

  "I wouldn't have thought him quick to leave your side. He seemed to have appointed himself as much your loyal guard and companion as Daigo."

  Daigo growled, as if understanding enough to not appreciate the comparison. Bond-beasts were said to be the reincarnations of great warriors, and the wildcat comprehended more than might be expected of an animal.

  "I did not come to speak of--" she began.

  "What happened?"

  She'd truly rather not speak of it, but he'd need to know if he agreed to help with her plan.

  "You'll recall the message we bore from Fairview?" she said. "For the emperor, from those who held the children and villagers captive. It bore a seal. One that Gavril claimed not to recognize."

  Ronan nodded.

  "It was the Kitsune seal."

  Ronan pulled back. "Gavril must not have known--"

  "He did. It was a secondary seal used by his father. The former marshal did not perish in the Forest of the Dead. He is alive, and he is responsible for raising the shadow stalkers that destroyed Edgewood. He's also responsible for the death worms and the thunder hawk. The rumors are correct. The Kitsune family knows sorcery. Gavril confirmed it in the Wastes. I forced him to, having caught him at it."

  "But Gavril--"

  "--betrayed us. After Edgewood was massacred, his task was to escort Ashyn and me to the emperor with a firsthand account of his father's power."

  Ronan shook his head. "I cannot believe that. Gavril might be one of the least companionable people I've ever met, but I would want him at my side in any battle. He's steadfast and loyal--"

  "--to his father. That's the warrior way. Filial piety above all else. Even integrity and conscience, it seems. Now you know why he's gone, and I would like to leave the subject alone."

  "But--"

  "I insist. I came to speak of Fairview."

  Ronan studied her expression and then nodded. "You don't believe the emperor is taking the threat seriously?"

  "I have no idea if he is or is not. I only know that the children are still gone and there is no army marching from the imperial city to rescue them. Which is why I need to return."

  "To Fairview? Did Gavril not say they would be moved elsewhere?" He paused. "Oh."

  "Yes, oh. Given that Gavril was lying from the start, the emperor believes the children are indeed at Fairview, and I agree, which is why I'm going there."

  His lips twitched. "To rescue them yourself?"

  "If I must. But I hold no illusion that I can swoop in and set them free like birds from a cage. I merely wish to assess the situation. Confirm that the children are there."

  "You don't think the emperor has already done that?"

  "He deems it too dangerous."

  "Too dangerous for trained warriors and spies, yet you plan to do it? That's madness, Moria. Brave and bold and utterly mad."

  "I agree," said a voice.

  A young man walked into their alley. Like Moria, he wore a disguise. His was more elaborate--and less obvious--than a cloak with the hood pulled up. He'd dressed in a rough tunic and trousers, with a loose jacket to hide his dual blades. On his feet he wore a peasant's simple thonged sandals. His long, black hair was plaited and he wore the rice straw hat common to farmers, oversized to shade one's eyes from the sun.

  Yet even with the hat shadowing his face, his disguise was as poor as her cloak and hood. It wasn't his coloring or his features. He was empire-born--the golden skin, high cheekbones, and dark eyes that were the most common look even in this cosmopolitan city. He was well-formed and strikingly handsome. What made him stand out was something no hood or hat could hide. The face of an emperor. Or, at least, an emperor's son.

  Ronan's mouth dropped open in a very unattractive gape.

  Moria narrowed her eyes at the newcomer. "You followed me."

  "I tried. I'm not very good at it, though. I left too large a gap, and I lost you. Luckily, it's not easy to lose you for long. Just follow the sounds of chaos."

  He grinned and tugged off his jacket. Ronan's stare dropped to the matched dagger and sword hanging from the young man's waist, the silver handles inlaid with flawless rubies. Then Ronan's gaze lifted to the red-and-black tattooed bands on the young man's forearms--the intricate dragon design of the Tatsu clan.

  "Your highness," Ronan said, bowing so deep Moria expected him to fall over.

  The young man made a face and waved him up. "That's for my brothers. One need not be so formal with a bastard prince."

  Which was not exactly true. An emperor's bastard sons were treated little different from those born to his wives. They could not ascend to the throne, and they had tattooed cuffs rather than the full sleeves of highborn warriors, but otherwise Tyrus was as much a prince as his brothers. He just didn't like to act the part.

  Tyrus picked up a crate and plunked it down closer to Moria's.

  "Take off that cloak before you melt," he said. "It wasn't disguising you."

  "Nor is that"--she waved at his peasant outfit--"disguising you."

  "It isn't supposed to. It merely conveys the message that I'm attempting to pass incognito."

  "That makes absolutely no sense."

/>   Ronan cleared his throat. "Actually it does. His highness--"

  "Tyrus."

  "Um, yes. If people see him dressed like that, they know he wishes not to be recognized, so they grant him the courtesy."

  "I'll teach you how to do it," Tyrus said to her. "For the next time you sneak off, because expecting you to stay in one place is like trying to cage that wildcat of yours." He lounged back on his crate. "So, we're discussing the issue of Fairview."

  "No, we are not. This is a private conversation."

  Ronan sputtered and shot her looks of alarm. She ignored him. She'd spent enough time with Tyrus to take liberties--and to know he'd allow them, even enjoyed the informality.

  "How can the meeting be private," Tyrus said. "If you're holding it in a public place?"

  "Because I don't have a private place. Not even my suite. I was bathing yesterday and a maidservant brought in fresh towels."

  "They're very attentive."

  "Which is fine. Just not while I'm bathing."

  Tyrus grinned. "I don't mind them."

  She rolled her eyes.

  He turned to Ronan. "Since Moria refused to extend proper courtesies, I'll presume you're Ronan?"

  Ronan nodded mutely.

  "I apologize for dragging you into this, but if Moria had asked me what my father was doing, I'd have said he has sent spies to survey the situation in Fairview. He must determine an appropriate course of action since he cannot meet Alvar's demands for their release."

  The former marshal had demanded nothing short of the throne. As Emperor Tatsu said, Alvar Kitsune didn't expect him even to consider such a thing. It was not a negotiation but a declaration of war.

  Tyrus continued. "If Moria had asked me, I would have happily answered her questions. But she refuses to speak of the matter."

  "Because you shouldn't be pulled into it," Moria said. "Your brothers have spies watching to see if you're paying attention to me because I'm a young woman or because I'm part of a situation that could further your position in court. The latter would suggest an interest in politics, which would suggest a lack of interest in a long life."

  Two of the emperor's bastard sons had already died from paying an unhealthy amount of attention to matters of court. Tyrus aspired to be a warrior--a great one. Nothing less and nothing more.

  "Yes," Tyrus said. "But I suggested finding a place where we could speak privately. Which you refused."

  "Because I won't involve you."

  "I said I wish to be involved."

  "And I said I would not allow it."

  They locked gazes, but she would not back down. If he wanted to give her sword lessons, she would not object to that. If he wanted to befriend her, she would not object to that. If he wanted to be more than a friend . . . well, that was open to consideration. Her sister deemed such matters affairs of the heart, to be approached with great care and forethought. To Moria, the heart did not enter into it. If Tyrus fancied her and she fancied him, she could use lessons in more than fighting techniques.