Empire of Night Page 2

  There was only one role she would not allow Tyrus to play: her champion. In court, everyone wanted something from you. She would not be part of that. She enjoyed Tyrus's company because his company was worth enjoying, not because he was a prince. She would do nothing to suggest otherwise.

  "My father has sent spies," Tyrus said. "Two, to take separate routes, in case one is captured. He expects word from them at any moment. You may have noticed he is entertaining guests?"

  Moria said nothing.

  "I'm sure you're fuming at the emperor for throwing lavish parties while the children of your village suffer. He does no such thing, Moria. He entertains the Sultan of Nemeth and the King of Etaria. Minor principalities near the Katakana Mountains, where the Kitsunes once ruled. Both men were close friends of Alvar Kitsune. Someone has been sheltering him since his escape from the Forest of the Dead."

  "Your father thinks it's one of them," Ronan said. "That's why they're here. So he can decide which is guilty."

  Tyrus nodded and watched Moria, waiting for her to ask questions. She had a hundred of them. And to protect Tyrus, she'd ask not a one.

  "He's doing what he can," Tyrus said. "He's not a perfect ruler, but he is a very good one. I know you think I'm only saying that because he's my father. But did he seem incompetent when you spoke to him? Did he seem uncaring? Did he seem to underestimate the threat?"

  She shifted on the crate.

  "I know you are frustrated," he said. "But there is no reason for you to go to Fairview. If it would help you to speak to my father, I can arrange an audience."

  "No."

  "I would be discreet about it. Allow me to--"

  "No," she said, getting to her feet. She turned to Ronan. "I'll convey your regards to my sister. Please convey mine to your family. Thank you for meeting with me."

  She glanced for Daigo, but he was already at her side. She walked off, stiffly, leaving the two young men behind.

  THREE

  When Tyrus did not come after her, Moria thought he was leaving her to whatever trouble would befall her for sneaking away from court. That was her ill mood speaking. It seemed he'd only stayed behind to speak to Ronan, and Moria had barely reached the market square before he fell in at her side.

  Tyrus didn't pursue the conversation again. Instead he played city guide, pointing out landmarks and explaining the history. No dry, architectural lectures. Moria doubted he knew any. Like her, he favored tales of danger and daring and told her those--a duel fought here, a notorious bandit hideout there.

  Nearly everyone they passed seemed to recognize him. Yet there were no bows or murmurs of respect. No cries for alms or favors. They saw Tyrus and quickly looked away. Moria kept Daigo at her side and left her hood down, and no one said a word to her.

  She was certain her appearance with Tyrus would be commented on, in whispers and rumors. While the Keeper could not marry, she could take lovers. The prince would marry as his father wished, but he was not expected to eschew female company until then. The court already whispered of how much time the two spent together. Now the city would. And Moria and Tyrus would not discourage it because it meant his brothers would soon call off their spies, realizing there was no political angle here, simply a young man and young woman courting.

  When they reached the palace, Tyrus didn't ask how she'd slipped past the guards. He went straight to her point of escape--the servants' gate.

  "A word of advice," he said as they approached it. "While I'd prefer you to ask me along on your next unauthorized excursion, if you do go alone, you will find it much harder to return through this gate unnoticed. In fact, I'd say it's impossible."

  The guards at the small gate were already moving forward. Then they saw Daigo and got a closer look at Tyrus, and they dipped their chins and gazes, welcoming the prince as he passed through.

  "They hardly need to worry about spies and assassins exiting court," Tyrus continued after greeting the guards. "But you will not get back in without revealing yourself."

  "So what are the other routes?"

  His lips curved. "Did I say there were any?"

  "You implied it."

  "Perhaps. And the next time you wish to leave, you have only to tell me, and I will show you . . . and go with you."

  "I'm quite safe in the city."

  "But is the city safe when you are in it? That's the question." He glanced up at the sound of harsh footsteps clacking over the stone path. "I will handle this."

  She was about to say "Handle what?" when five figures rounded a building, bearing down on them. In the lead was a stout, gray-haired man--the minister of the imperial household. Two of his stewards flanked him. All three walked quickly, their faces set in expressions so grim one would expect they were headed to a public flogging. Yet no face was as grim as the fourth. A young woman dressed in a simple but elegant silk dress, her red-gold hair flowing almost to her waist, her blue eyes so chill Moria decided that if it was a public flogging, the girl would ask to wield the strap herself.

  "I think I'm in trouble," Moria murmured.

  Daigo grunted beside her, and when he did, the fifth figure--a huge yellow hound walking beside the girl--gave an answering growl.

  "My lady Keeper," the minister said in his soft, steel-laced voice. "We had heard--"

  "--that she escaped into the city and was raising untold havoc in the market?" Tyrus said. "I fear it is true."

  The minister stopped short, his sandals squeaking. He'd apparently been too intent on his target to take a closer look at the person accompanying her.

  "Prince Tyrus," he said.

  "Yes, I'm the one causing trouble today. Or, at least, causing the trouble that caused the trouble. I wanted to show Moria the marketplace. She insisted on looking at books. I failed to see the attraction so I fear I wandered off. That is when the incident occurred. A man was harassing a young girl, and Moria stopped him." He paused. "You may wish to have the minister of justice send someone to investigate. It seems it's not the first time the man has done such a thing. He'll need some sort of disciplinary action, and it may be best if the merchants aren't allowed to administer it themselves. They were quite angry. And quite grateful to Moria."

  "I'm sure they were." The minister turned stiffly to Moria. "Thank you for your intervention, my lady. The people will appreciate it."

  Moria snuck a look at her sister. Ashyn's face was still stern, but her eyes had lost their chill. She mouthed something to Moria.

  "And I, um, apologize for causing a disturbance," Moria said with a slow bow.

  "It was for a good cause," Tyrus said. "As for taking the Keeper out of the court, that falls entirely on me. She was bored, and I wished to impress her." A disarming grin. "One can't blame me for that." He walked to Ashyn. "I apologize for stealing your sister away, my lady."

  Ashyn's look said she knew full well what had happened. "No apology needed, your highness."

  "I offer it anyway," he said with a half bow. Then he turned to the men. "Does that clear up the matter, minister?"

  "It does."

  "I'll understand if you wish to report it to my father. I did act impetuously and did spirit the Keeper out against his orders."

  "Young men are impetuous," the minister said. "Particularly when it comes to young women. I see no reason to tell your imperial father."

  "I will remember that. Thank you." He turned to Ashyn. "I leave your sister in your care. Be gentle with her. We have a sparring appointment later this afternoon, and I'll be hard enough on her then."

  He took his leave. The minister and his stewards followed without a word to Moria.

  Once they were gone, Moria pulled a book from her cloak pocket and handed it to her sister. "I got this for you."

  Ashyn gave her a withering look as her hound, Tova, grumbled under his breath as if to say that was a poor try, a very poor try.

  "And I saw Ronan."

  Ashyn went still. "You saw . . ."

  "Ronan. That's where I was going. To
meet him, because he deserved an update, and you refused to provide one."

  "Because we're not supposed to leave the court. You didn't tell him--Did you say I wouldn't meet with him? If you--"

  "Of course not." Moria waved for them to start back to their suite. "I told him you were busy, and it may have had something to do with that handsome courtier I saw you speaking to the other day."

  Ashyn's eyes flashed with outrage. "I did not speak to any--" She caught her sister's smile. "You're not funny, Rya. Not at all."

  "Oh, but you are. Tell me again how you think of Ronan only as a friend. A dear, kind friend . . . who just happened to kiss you good-bye the last time you saw him."

  "I should never have told you that."

  "You'd have burst otherwise. So tell me again how you are not thinking of him, not pining for him."

  "You make me sound like the fainting heroine in one of your ridiculous bard tales."

  "The lovely fair maiden, bound by destiny to a life of spiritual service, pining for the dashing thief, who escaped his fate, only to be torn from her side--"

  "He hasn't escaped his fate," Ashyn muttered. "He's out there, hiding like a criminal, when all he has to do is let us speak to the emperor on his behalf, and he'd be a hero."

  "Which would make a very happy end to the story. Unless the emperor doesn't pardon him, but throws him into the dungeons as an escaped criminal. Given the choice, I can see why Ronan's not eager to take the chance."

  "He would be spared. He's being stubborn."

  Ashyn opened the door to their quarters.

  "I suppose you don't want to hear what he said about you?" Moria said. "What message he wished me to convey?"

  "Message?"

  Moria laughed and continued into their rooms, with Ashyn trailing after her.

  FOUR

  Moria hated court life. By the second day, she'd been eyeing the gates, plotting her escape. Admittedly, her attitude had been different when they first arrived. After they'd spent nearly ten days on the road, the imperial court--with its gardens and lake and forest and hushed tranquility--had been welcome sanctuary. That had changed once they were told that the emperor wished them to stay within the court walls until this matter was resolved . . . and Moria learned that the word "wished" meant something entirely different when it came from an emperor.

  The court had quickly become a cage. It didn't matter if it was nearly as big as Edgewood. In their village, they'd been allowed to venture beyond the gates. That made all the difference.

  The minister had tried to entertain them, in all the ways he expected young women would like to be entertained. He sent dressmakers and hairdressers and arranged teas and puppeteers. Moria had no interest in dresses or hair or tea or puppets. Ashyn was more inclined to enjoy them, but even she could not while the children of Edgewood were held captive. They'd spent their days in the library and the gardens, in the temple and the training grounds, and they'd listened to whispers that the Keeper and Seeker of Edgewood were very odd girls, uncultured, perhaps slow-witted, which was not surprising, given that they were Northerners.

  That afternoon, Moria sparred with Tyrus. The court Seeker--Ellyn--had tried to stop the lessons, because Moria wasn't allowed to carry a sword until her eighteenth summer. Others seemed more concerned about Tyrus, who was learning dagger throwing from Moria in return. Warrior daggers were considered more tools than weapons. To Tyrus, though, any battlefield skill was useful.

  As for the swords, someone--she hated to name him--had told Moria that she would never be able to wield one as well as a male warrior. She was determined to prove him wrong. At first, that task had seemed more daunting than she expected. The typical warrior's sword was a long, slightly curved, single-edged blade. But there were other types, and Tyrus had called in the imperial swordsmith to help. They had decided Moria would be best served with a side sword. It was a shorter blade, sometimes worn instead of the dagger, generally used as an auxiliary sword for close-quarter fighting. It was also used for beheading an enemy, which meant that the blade was as sharp and as strong as any other.

  That day, Moria did not practice battle decapitation, Tyrus having drawn the line at offering himself up for that. They sparred while Daigo lounged, dozing. For Moria it was a full workout, leaving her drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. Tyrus didn't even get warm enough to remove his tunic, which was a shame, though the lack of visual distraction did help her accuracy with the blade.

  "You need to work on your stamina," Tyrus said when they finished. "Are you running twice a day?"

  She nodded, struggling for breath. "You said twice around the court wall, but I've been doing it thrice. I think I need more."

  "Three times around, thrice a day. We're going to skip lessons for a few days and work on continuous practice bouts to build your stamina and your spirit and improve your attention. You need more of that. Much more."

  Tyrus went on to list everything she'd done wrong. He offered no praise. Once, when Ashyn came to watch, she'd been appalled and shocked that the affable young prince could be so harsh a teacher. Ashyn had been quick to tell Moria she was doing very well. "Yes, she is," Tyrus had said. "For an untrained girl. But she wants to do well for a warrior." Ashyn had stayed away after that, and Moria was glad of it. Tyrus had promised to teach her as a warrior, not as a girl trying to play at being a warrior. She did not need her sister defending her from the sidelines.

  Once the lesson ended, Tyrus shed that taskmaster guise as he shed his practice tunic. Moria watched. It was a very pleasant sight. He was lean-muscled, sweat making his golden skin shimmer. He wore an amulet band intricately tied around his left biceps. It was red silk, with tasseled ends, the band embroidered with his name and sewn with a tiny protection scroll inside. An old custom, amulet bands had largely fallen out of favor, but his mother had given it to him and he wore it for her.

  Tyrus pulled on a clean shirt, caught her hand, and whispered, "Come. I've something to show you."

  His dark eyes danced, and the smile on his lips promised a passionate tryst in some shadowy corner. Moria knew what that meant--they were being watched. Sure enough, two serving girls were strolling past, feigning no interest in the young prince, which was as good a sign as any that they were spies from one of his brothers.

  Despite the attention Tyrus paid her, he showed no interest in more than platonic companionship. She'd wondered at first if he preferred men, but she'd heard enough stories to know that wasn't the case. It seemed that many foreign princesses and diplomats' daughters received real invitations to shadowy corners.

  The disappointing truth was that Tyrus did not fancy her. Some men found Northern looks unattractive. More likely, though, given his taste for highborn ladies, it was Moria herself that didn't ignite those fires. As a companion, she was ideal. As a bedmate, he'd likely prefer a more feminine representative of her sex. She could not blame him. One's taste was one's taste, and it was merely unfortunate that hers ran to handsome warriors when she was surrounded by pretty courtier boys whose gazes said they'd happily keep her from growing bored in her confinement.

  "Come?" he said, his brows arching, grin growing. He took her hand and tugged it. "I've someplace to show you."

  "I bet you do," she said. "Is it dark?"

  "Possibly."

  "Private?"

  "Probably."

  She laughed. "I think you've taken me there before."

  "No, not this one. Come."

  "But . . ." Moria motioned toward the two serving girls, now on a bench, one subtly watching.

  He leaned in and whispered loudly. "They aren't looking. Now come. Quickly."

  They scampered off, whispering and laughing, as the spies headed back to the palace with their report. Tyrus took her past the Chancery for Medicines, and then into the Grove of Pines. He led her through to the palace wall at the far side.

  "Can you climb?" he asked, pointing to a generously branched pine.

  She nodded.

 
While she easily scaled the tree, he had a little more trouble. There were situations in which having a long blade hanging at your side was problematic. She remembered in the Wastes, when she'd broken into a run upon seeing Fairview ahead, and she'd laughed at--

  Moria banished the memory. She'd not recall any that included him. The point was that a warrior's blade could hinder running or climbing, yet as long as a warrior remained upright, his weapons stayed at his side or in his hand. There were no other choices.

  Once up the tree, Tyrus pointed to the wall and said, "Can you jump?"

  "Into the palace yard?"

  He nodded.

  "I can but--"

  "Then follow me. Tell Daigo to wait."

  He jumped onto the wall and then swung down. By the time she'd spoken to her wildcat, Tyrus had disappeared. She jumped to the base of the wall and looked about.

  "Over here," he whispered, peeking from behind a building. When she caught up, he said, "Keep following. Quietly. Don't sneak, though. There's no reason I can't bring you to my quarters, but I'd prefer not to take the ruse that far, for the sake of your reputation. Just follow quietly and take note of the route. You'll want to use it again. Soon."

  Like the court, the palace itself was a complex of buildings. The emperor's residence was in the middle--or so she'd heard, having not been here before. His first and second wives also had homes in the compound, as did his concubines, including Tyrus's mother. Tyrus himself lived here, like all the emperor's children, except the daughters who'd married and left.

  When Moria once asked how many children the emperor had, Tyrus estimated fourteen--four legitimate sons, two legitimate daughters, and the rest by his official concubines, though he allowed he may have forgotten one or two. The legitimate offspring were all older than Tyrus. Two of the bastard daughters were older and married, living elsewhere. The remainder were at least three summers younger, meaning Tyrus was the only one who posed a threat, and thus garnered all his brothers' interest.