Forest of Ruin (32 page)

“C
ome,” Moria whispered in Ashyn's ear. “Let's leave them alone.”

Gavril was sitting now, talking to Tyrus as one of the young healers ran to find her mistress and the guard ran to inform the emperor.

“If you wish to stay . . .” Ashyn whispered, but Moria shook her head and said, “Gavril died for him. They should have a moment alone. And they'll not get it once everyone hears what has happened.”

What
had
happened? Ashyn still didn't know, to be quite honest. Gavril was alive. Alive and healed, and she'd checked him herself, as Moria had tentatively put questions to him, ensuring it was no sorcery. He'd passed her sister's tests. It was Gavril. Alive. And as Moria walked from that death chamber, she glowed as if lit by the fire of the goddess herself.

“Do you know what happened?” Ashyn asked.

“Perhaps. We can speak of that later. For now . . .” Her sister turned and caught her in a hug so fierce it took Ashyn's breath away. “For now,
you
are alive. That is the most important thing, and I want to talk about you. Not Gavril. Not Tyrus. Not you either,” she said as she turned to Ronan, who'd been following, and waved him off with, “Begone, boy. I wish time with my sister.”

He only smiled, bowed, and said, “As you will, my lady,” and headed back toward the chamber.

Moria looked at Daigo and Tova. “I suppose you may both stay. But see that you do not interrupt my time with Ashyn.”

Tova harrumphed and Daigo rolled his eyes, but they fell back, trailing them as Ronan had been.

“Thea and Ellyn are dead,” Ashyn said, which was not, she suspected, what Moria wished to hear, but she could not go further without telling her.

Moria's smile faded and she bowed her head. “I am sorry to hear it. I suppose we ought to go there, to say blessings for their departure.”

“I did so quickly, as I left. But yes, we ought to.” She looped her arm through her sister's. “We'll take the long way, to avoid others. You can tell me what happened in the palace.”

“You first,” Moria said. “You're the older one. You can start.”

Ashyn managed a smile at that. She was a half day older, and Moria had always hated the reminder. She tugged her sister closer, and she began.

Four days had passed since the horror of that night. Ashyn was where she'd been every afternoon since, in the tiny apartment
that Ronan had once called home. He'd paid his last rent and was preparing to move his siblings to the court, at the emperor's insistence. It was temporary, of course, but with everything that had happened, it wasn't the time for long-term plans.

Ronan had offered his services as the emperor struggled with the loss of over half his imperial guard. That's what Ronan was doing now while Ashyn watched his siblings.

Though it had been four days, there had been little time for personal conversations. Ronan's time was split between court and home, and Ashyn's was, too, on the opposite schedule, as she prepared to take over as court Seeker while Ronan was home with Aidra and Jorn. He'd tried to speak to her several times, but she'd brushed him off, not unkindly, simply making it clear that this was not the time.

She was reading to Aidra while Jorn feigned disinterest in the story, yet never moved far enough away that he couldn't hear it. When Ronan arrived, he had to duck to enter the dark, dingy apartment. Even the dim lighting couldn't hide his exhaustion. But he walked straight to her, as he always did, bending to brush his lips across her cheek and whisper, “Thank you.”

“Are things getting any better?” she asked.

He made a face. “Better, yes. There's still much to be done.”

The court was in turmoil, and they were all dealing with it. Alvar might be gone, but the emperor still had to deal with the warlords and warriors who'd betrayed him. Politics rather than war, which was some relief, though it meant little rest for anyone as they handled the aftermath and stitched the empire back together.

“Will you finish the story tomorrow?” Aidra asked,
climbing off her lap and giving Tova a farewell hug.

“I will,” Ashyn said. “But I'm not leaving just yet. Ronan has some very exciting news, and I want to be here when he shares it.”

Ronan mouthed:
I do?

“Shall I tell them?” Ashyn asked.

He frowned in confusion.

“I will then.” She turned to the children. “Your brother has done something incredible, and he's been too modest to share it with you. Your family has been raised to warrior caste again.”

Ronan's eyes widened, and he madly shook his head, but she ignored him. “Yes,” she said. “In return for his service to Prince Tyrus, you are all elevated to warrior caste.”

Aidra shrieked and threw herself at Ronan. Jorn rose from where he'd been sitting and stared at Ashyn.

“You mean . . .” Jorn said. “I am to be . . .”

“Trained as a warrior,” she said. “And there's more. Ronan will personally serve Prince Tyrus. First, though, he must train. He'll do that with Lord Okami.”

“The Gray Wolf?” Aidra said, her eyes rounding.

Ashyn chuckled. “He isn't nearly as scary as his reputation suggests. But he is a great warrior, and he will train both your brothers.”

“When?” Jorn blurted.

“You'll start as soon as you arrive at Lord Okami's compound. The emperor needs Ronan and the Okamis here a while longer, but when they leave, you will travel with them.”

Aidra stopped shrieking. She turned, very slowly, her huge brown eyes fixed on Ashyn. “And you'll come with us?”

When Ashyn didn't answer, Jorn said, gruffly, “She can't, silly. She's court Seeker now.”

“But . . .” Aidra looked at Ronan, who had his face turned away as if struggling to find the right expression. When he glanced back finally, he hadn't managed it, and Ashyn could see the devastation in his eyes.

“That's it, then,” he said. “Your choice.”

“Yes,” she said. “That is my choice. You will take the offer, because you could not live with yourself if you did otherwise.”

“And if I cannot live without . . .” He trailed off, looking aside again.

“You'll train under Lord Okami. You will return when you are able. And I will go to Lord Okami's compound when I can. The lord himself has assured me I may visit as often and as long as I wish. Apparently, his wife greatly appreciates female companionship.”

“Does that mean . . .” He turned, looking at her.

“Can we walk?” she said. “Jorn will watch Aidra while you escort me back to the palace.”

T
hey were out of the casteless district before Ronan spoke.

“When you say . . .” he trailed off. Then he cleared his throat. “Does this mean . . . ? That is, when you speak of visiting, do you mean . . . as friends?”

“Yes. I am going to travel three days' ride as often as I can because we are friends.” She gave him a look. “I certainly hope if I make that ride, I can hope for more than pleasant conversation.”

He studied her expression. Then, slowly, he began to grin. Before she could say a word, he caught her up in an embrace, Tova barking in surprise as Ronan swung her off her feet.

He swung her clear into an alleyway, into the shadows there, before setting her back on her feet.

“I have you, then,” he said. “I truly have you.”

“For now,” she said. “And if you go changing your mind a
fortnight from now, I swear I'll—”

“Never,” he said, pulling her into a kiss. “I will never change my mind.”

Ashyn was back in court later than she expected. Ronan had not been content with a quick kiss. Nor, admittedly, had she.

She and Tova walked through the first door into their quarters. Ellyn's hound rose from his pillow and walked over, stiff-legged with age. Thea's wildcat lifted her head and stretched, favoring them with a look of greeting. Everyone had expected the beasts to perish after their Keeper and Seeker died. That was the legend. When they had not, there'd even been talk of “laying them to rest with their bond-people.” Moria had sworn to use her daggers on anyone who tried. The old beasts deserved a quiet retirement, which for now, they could get with the girls.

There were pictures on the walls. Drawings from the children. Their extended families were coming for them, as news trickled across the empire. If no family could be found, there were homes—so many had volunteered to adopt the children that the emperor had put Ashyn in charge of a committee to find the best applicants. It was a weighty responsibility, but she took it gladly. The only sadness there was knowing that they'd lost a handful of the children—the ones who'd been possessed, like Wenda, their own spirits gone. At peace, Ashyn hoped.

When she returned to her quarters, she opened the door to hear voices arguing, and she stopped to smile and lean against the doorpost. Four days ago, she'd thought she'd never hear such a familiar sound again. Moria and Gavril bickering. They
were playing a game of capture-my-lord. Moria had made one of her mad, bold moves, and Gavril was chastising her on the foolishness of it, telling her she ought to think before she plunged in. Which, if she ever truly did, she would not be Moria.

What had happened that night in the palace? Alvar Kitsune had ended his life with perhaps the only good and selfless act he'd done in his life. He hadn't let Moria and Tyrus kill him because he'd been crushed and beaten. He'd accepted death to resurrect his son. The darkest form of sorcery: death magics. That was the spell he'd been casting. The one that offered his life in return for his son's.

Perhaps it wasn't purely selfless. As Moria had said, Alvar's goal had not been a throne but a dynasty. He'd given his life to keep his blood alive.

Gavril was still mending, and the girls had insisted he recuperate here, where Moria could watch over him and Ashyn could tend to him. Physically he was whole and well. Yet he was weak, as if his spirit had not fully recovered from the shock of leaving his body. Each day he gained a little more strength. Now, when Ashyn walked in, he had left his pallet and was sitting cross-legged on a cushion as he played with Moria.

Her sister looked over quickly. Seeing Ashyn, she said, “Ah, it's you.”

“Sorry.”

Gavril shook his head. “Tyrus is late for their sword practice, and she's hoping he comes soon so she will be spared the indignity of saying ‘You were right,' when I defeat her.”

“But you are not right,” Moria said. “Whether I win or
lose, I stand by my move. It was my only chance of winning. Therefore I took it. That was all I could do.”

Silence. Moria had her head bowed, studying the game board. Gavril watched her, the expression on his face making Ashyn look away, before he said, softer now, “Yes, I understand that.”

Which he did, of course. That was how he thought, as much as Moria, in his own, quieter way. Moria, bold and brash. Gavril, thoughtful and subdued. Tyrus, honorable and resolute. All of them willing to make the hardest gamble for what they believed in. Tyrus taking his brother's place under the sword. Gavril taking Tyrus's. Moria risking her life to avenge Gavril.

Could Ashyn do the same in the same situation? Likely not. Heroes made the bold moves. Heroes risked their lives. Others kept the troops at ease, tended the wounded, fed the hungry, and soldiered on, and the world could not survive without them any more than it could without heroes.

Before Ashyn could sit to watch the game, Tyrus burst in as if he'd been running, saying, “I know, I'm late, but we still have time before the—” He stepped into the room and exhaled. “Good. You're keeping her occupied. I was afraid I'd run through that door and find myself dodging daggers.”

Moria didn't favor that with a reply. Tyrus was busy, as they all were, and it was just as often that Moria missed their scheduled engagements.

A new life. One that promised many challenges. But this was what they wanted, all of them. To play their role, whatever it might be.

“Finish your game,” Tyrus said as he snatched up a sitting cushion.

“No, take her,” Gavril said. “Please. She's restless, and it makes her a very poor player.”

“I'm not the only one, Kitsune,” she said. “On both counts. You ought to come watch us. Get some air and exercise.”

Tyrus seconded the invitation, but Gavril demurred, saying, “I'll enjoy the silence.”

“Ashyn's not leaving,” Moria said.

“As I said, I'll enjoy the silence. Comparatively speaking.”

Moria made a face and got to her feet.

“If you change your mind . . .” Tyrus said.

“It'll be a long council meeting tonight,” Moria added. “Take the exercise where you can.”

“I'm fine. Go on.”

They left, with Daigo following along. The door had not yet closed before Tyrus said, “Zuri!” and Ashyn smiled, knowing the dragon whelp must have soared out of nowhere again, having developed the habit of swooping on Tyrus and grabbing his ponytail, which was apparently her idea of an affectionate greeting.

“Uh-uh,” Moria said. “Not this time, girl. I—”

Moria cursed, and Ashyn laughed to herself. Zuri's greeting for Moria was to walk behind her and goose her in the rear until she produced treats.

“One of these days I won't have treats for you,” Moria said, but Ashyn knew she would, she always would. The dragon might be Tyrus's “beast,” but she was as devoted to Moria as Daigo was to Tyrus.

Their voices faded, and they could not have gotten past the next building before Gavril tentatively rose, his gaze on the door.

“Go,” Ashyn said. “It's a swordplay lesson. Nothing more. They'd like you there, and you would like to get out. Moria's right. You're as restless as Daigo.”

He nodded and started for the door. He'd barely made it there before Ashyn blurted, “Are you happy, Gavril?”

She regretted the words as soon as she said them, and braced for him to stiffen, that good mood to evaporate as he pretended to have no idea what she meant.

He turned slowly. “Yes, I'm happy. For the first time in . . . Perhaps in my life.” He rubbed his face, as if embarrassed by the sentiment, then said, “It's like . . . like I'm finally able to breathe. I know that doesn't make sense.”

She reached and squeezed his arm. “It does. It completely does. You have a future again. A normal life. And friends. People who care about you.”

He nodded, definitely looking embarrassed now.

“And Moria?” Ashyn said softly.

“Yes, she is a friend, as much as Tyrus.”

“And that's what matters.”

He nodded. “It is,” he said, and walked out the door, his strides lengthening as he hurried to catch up.