Empire of Night

by Kelley Armstrong

  She nodded. "Quickly. While they're still--"

  One charged.

  "Back!" she shouted, and it stumbled, then regained its balance, shaking itself, its head low as it growled.

  A second started forward, cautious, but emboldened by its pack mate. When nothing happened to hold it, the beast kept coming. Then another stepped toward them.

  "Can you swim?" Tyrus said.

  "What?"

  "We have to jump. There's no other way." He sheathed his sword. "Can you swim?"

  She took a deep breath, pushed her dagger into her belt, grabbed his hand, said, "No," and jumped.

  FIFTY-ONE

  As they hurtled through the darkness, Moria reflected that this was not much different from falling from the tree. Except for Daigo's yowling. At least there were no branches to strike on the way down. Just--

  They hit the water, and it was like plunging through ice. She'd done that once at a fishing hole, having underestimated the thickness of the ice. It was not an experience she'd ever wished to repeat. First there was the incredible cold that actually seemed to burn, searing the air from her lungs and threatening to stop her heart in her chest. Then, pain took over. Excruciating pain, which at least had the effect of slapping her out of her shock.

  As the icy water enveloped her, her mind shed that last veil of shock and she thought, The sea. I've leaped into the sea. Also, I can't swim. She recalled grabbing Tyrus's hand, but the moment they'd hit the water, the force of the blow had knocked them apart.

  She had to go up.

  A wise idea, except as she flailed, she realized she had no idea which way that was. She'd been tumbling through the water and--

  Whichever way you're falling? That's not up.

  Which made perfect sense. As she turned her body, she could see the dim glow of moonlight overhead. So she started climbing--or what passed for climbing when one was submerged in water--pulling and kicking toward a surface that seemed to get no closer.

  Because you're kicking and pushing through water. All you're doing is stopping yourself from falling farther.

  She shushed that doubting voice, but the panic that came in its wake propelled her to fight harder. The water was so cold, so unbelievably cold, encasing her body like ice, heavy as lead, pulling her down. She'd been eating barely enough to stay alive, exercising barely enough to keep her muscles from atrophy. Then she'd run through the forest, climbed trees, raced from fiend dogs . . . She was exhausted, and she could not breathe. Most of all, she could not breathe.

  So it's too much. You'll just give up. Sink to the bottom and die after escaping Alvar Kitsune and his fiend dogs. No one escapes fiend dogs, and you did.

  But she hadn't, had she? Perhaps it truly was fated. She'd seen them and now--

  Didn't I tell you not to leave, Keeper?

  That voice sounded like Gavril's, whispered as if he stood behind her, bending to her ear. Her imagination, not sorcery.

  I warned you, Keeper. You won't escape. You aren't strong enough. You aren't clever enough. You fancy yourself a warrior, but you're a foolish little girl.

  She pushed her hands over her head, propelling herself up.

  You jumped into the sea, Keeper. Knowing you cannot swim.

  Because I had no choice. You didn't warn me of the fiend dogs.

  I didn't see the point. It wasn't as if you were likely to escape anyway. And if you did? Well, you did not get far, did you?

  She squeezed her eyes shut and kept going, past the pain and the exhaustion, pushing up through the water until she was certain--yes, certain--that the moon overhead was growing brighter. Then, suddenly, a black shape passed over it.

  No! I need the light . . .

  The shape dove lower and her panic sparked until a form grabbed her arm and started hauling her up, and when the moonlight pierced the water again, she could see dragon bands on the arm that pulled her and noticed another dark shape overhead--Daigo treading water.

  Tyrus dragged her to the surface, and she broke through, sputtering and gasping. She struggled to fill her lungs, not noticing that he was still pulling her until her feet touched the bottom and the two of them stumbled from the sea onto the beach, and she collapsed there, heaving and shaking. Daigo huddled, soaked, beside her as Tyrus thumped her back, knocking water from her lungs and saying, "Can you speak? Moria?"

  "I think . . ." she wheezed. "I think I need you to give me swimming lessons, too."

  He whooped a laugh, coughing at the end of it. Then he gathered her up in a crushing hug, and she collapsed against him, thinking she'd never felt anything so wonderful. And warm. Especially warm. He was as soaking wet as she was, but all she felt was the heat of his body.

  "You're all right?" he said.

  She nodded against him and he brought her into a kiss, and if his embrace had been a warm blanket, this was a lick of fire, his mouth and his breath so incredibly hot that she wanted the kiss to last forever. And she would have let it, too, if she wasn't so short of breath that she had to break off, coughing slightly before kissing him again.

  "So you're fine with this now, it seems," she said as they parted.

  "Gavril had his chance to explain, and he did not. Even if he had . . ." He pulled back, holding her hands. "I decided there was a line between being honorable and being foolish. If you want to be with me, then that's your choice. Our choice. No one else's."

  "Ah, so you've finally come to your senses."

  He laughed and embraced her. "Yes. Now, since we don't dare start a fire still so close to Alvar's compound, we need to find a way back to Lord Okami's men, who will have dry clothing, before you freeze solid."

  "You were doing a fine job of keeping me warm a moment ago."

  "And I would love to continue that, but I fear it won't be enough. So I'll promise more later, if you want it."

  "I might. You're rather good at it."

  A laugh. "Thank you. Now, if we continue down this beach, we're bound to find a way back up the cliff . . ."

  They did find a way up . . . or "up" found a way to them, as the cliff dwindled into a hill leading from the beach to the field beyond the forest. As they climbed the hill, Tyrus said, "I need to tell you a few things before we reach the men."

  He told her what had happened at the battle, how Lord Jorojumo's men had turned on them, which she already knew. The aftermath, she did not. It seemed Gavril hadn't lied about that after all. Tyrus was in exile, and she was branded a traitor.

  But whatever Gavril's claims, she was certain that he had known this all along. Which made another part of Tyrus's tale all the more horrifying.

  "They think I was Gavril's . . . lover?" she said.

  "They say you fell under his spell on your escape from Edgewood. Or perhaps in Edgewood itself."

  She sputtered a laugh. "Fell under his spell? Clearly whoever tells these tales does not know Gavril Kitsune very well. But that's what they think. That I betrayed my empire and abandoned my sister and my bond-beast for my lover."

  "Yes, to anyone who has known you even for a moment, the story is preposterous."

  "Almost as preposterous as saying you'd fall under my spell, betray your empire, and run from battle. Your father will know that isn't true."

  "My mother will, and I take comfort in that."

  "No," she said, meeting his gaze. "Your father will."

  "I would like to share your confidence, but I don't want to seem a fool for presuming. The truth is that it doesn't honestly matter what my father thinks. Not as much as it should. My half brothers will spread this story as far as they can, as will their mothers. Those within the court know it is politically wise to side with them. They will rule one day; I will not. If my father defends me, it makes him seem a sentimental old man at a time when he can least afford that." Tyrus lifted his bare arm, flashing his banded tattoos. "My father is truly of the dragon clan. He is strong-willed and brutal, but he's also crafty and cautious. He knows when to defend his treasure with fire and fang, and w
hen to lie low and outwit his opponents."

  "And your brothers are his opponents."

  "Yes, oddly, as much as they are mine. As long as he lives, he keeps them from the imperial throne. Succession is an ugly thing."

  "Which is one reason he favors you. Because you want nothing from him, least of all his death."

  He shrugged. "I won't presume he favors me but, again, it wouldn't matter if he did. Whether he thinks I could have done this thing or not, I can't run to him for safe harbor. Which is why I went to Lord Okami."

  They crested the hill, then walked in silence before he cleared his throat.

  "All of this is to say that your prince is no longer a prince. Taking an exiled traitor for a lover might not have the same appeal."

  "Do you truly think I care? Even a little?"

  "No. I'm just pointing it out. To be fair."

  She rolled her eyes. "You are unreasonably fair sometimes, Tyrus. If I was to think anything at all of a potential loss of title, it would be only the very selfish reflection that at least I don't have to worry about running my blade through some dainty princess who fancies you . . . or running it through you if she catches your eye."

  He let out a laugh, cutting himself short as he looked around, then lowered his voice when he spoke. "That would be of no concern even if I remained a prince. Yes, I know you've heard the stories. A young prince--even a bastard--does present a temptation to visiting princesses and ladies, and I will admit that I've taken advantage of that."

  "As well you should."

  He glanced over to see if she was joking.

  "I mean it," she said. "If girls make themselves available, and you do not dishonor them, then there is no harm in dallying. If the situation were mine, I'd certainly take advantage."

  He laughed again. "Thank you, and I can assure you that whatever you heard, it was exaggerated, but the truth . . ." He sobered and looked over at her. "The truth, Moria, is that as entertaining as those dalliances were, there was not a girl whose memory lingered moments after she left the city gates. Only once has one stayed in my mind as if branded there. A girl I could not wait to see again, would seize on any excuse to see again, offering anything from garden tours to swordsmanship lessons. After I recovered from battle, all I wanted was to find you. I told myself Gavril would care for you, that my duty was to inform my father of Jorojumo's betrayal, and that my best hope of rescuing you was with a contingent of his finest warriors at my back."

  "You were using your head."

  He slowed to a stop. "I didn't want to use my head. If Ashyn hadn't been there to keep me on track, I think I'd not have managed it. The moment I learned what had happened--that there was no use in returning to the city--I almost felt relieved. I could shuck duty and follow my heart. Find you. Save you." He paused and gave a tiny smile. "Even if you did not need saving."

  "I appreciate the effort."

  She leaned in to kiss him, but he stopped her, his hands on her shoulders. "You saved yourself, Moria. More than that, you saved me. I'd have died in the forest, with those fiend dogs."

  "But you'd not have been there if you hadn't come for me."

  "You still did it, and you truly did save me on that battlefield. If you had not called my name when the warlord struck--"

  "I'd rather not think on that."

  "Nor would I. But I just want to say . . ." He kissed her. ". . . that you. . ." Another kiss. ". . . are incredible . . ." A third. "And I . . ." A fourth. ". . . am incredibly lucky." He looked into her eyes. "I'll not forget that. Ever."

  She leaned forward and kissed him, and the simple press of the lips became more, deliciously more, until Daigo's surprisingly gentle growl reminded them that they needed to be on their way again.

  FIFTY-TWO

  To their relief, Okami's men were where Tyrus had left them. While neither dared voice it, Moria knew they'd both feared Alvar's men would come or the fiend dogs would lure Okami's warriors into the forest.

  All Okami's men needed to do now was give up a couple of warm cloaks. Of course Tyrus insisted he didn't require one; of course Moria made him take it, threatening at blade-point when needed, which greatly amused Okami's warriors.

  After Moria and Tyrus found a private spot, removed their wet overgarments, and fastened on the warm cloaks, there was a checking and cataloging of injuries. Each reassured the other that his or her own injuries were not so bad as they might have seemed in the forest. Certainly not so bad as they'd seemed before the plunge into deep water cleaned away the blood. Moria's arm required a cloth binding. Tyrus's injuries were more numerous, but none severe, though Moria examined each bite and scratch before agreeing further care could wait.

  They returned to Okami's men, hung the wet garments from their saddles, and set out. Tyrus had not asked why she'd been wearing only under-dresses. Moria suspected he'd mistaken the layers for a simple gown. Her footwear was covered with enough mud and darkness that it wouldn't be obvious they were finely made sandals. She did not wish to explain the party and the fake betrothal. Even more, though, she did not wish to mention the dungeon cell. Tyrus had been correct to head for the city after the battle, but his guilt over that was heavy enough. Let him think Gavril had been a serviceable host.

  They rode through the night and into dawn, heading toward the mountains, with Okami's compound at their base. The party took rutted forest paths whenever possible. At dawn, they reached a roadside public house--not an inn, but someone's home, the owners offering food and beds to the rare traveler who came that way. While Tyrus and Moria stayed with Daigo and a blazing fire, Okami's men commandeered the place, turning out a group of fellow travelers and taking their breakfast for themselves. They were on the edges of Lord Okami's land now, and his men could expect such service.

  Their host brought out food and drink, a veritable feast after Moria's captivity, and she dove in like a ravenous beast, to the others' amusement--and encouragement. They were rough men, these warriors of the Gray Wolf, as Goro Okami was known. Not the sort of warriors she was accustomed to, but the sort that seemed more accustomed to women like her--men who found it not the least bit odd that a girl knew how to use a dagger and how to pack away a man's breakfast, a girl who was treated as equal by a prince.

  As for Tyrus, they did not treat him as a prince either, yet there was no disrespect in their easy talk and teasing. They were clearly fond of him and comfortable in his company, which settled any fears on the situation. Tyrus had said earlier that his father truly reflected his clan totem, and Moria suspected that this was often true of the men who bore them. Alvar Kitsune was as crafty and duplicitous as the nine-tailed fox. Jorojumo was a sneaky web spinner, like the spider. And Goro Okami seemed, like his wolf totem, independent yet loyal to his friends.

  The land here was as wild as the men, and while one might think Moria had had enough of forests to last a lifetime, the one they rode through that morning was different. Lush and green, it shimmered and crackled with life, and she found herself regretting each time they had to leave for a stretch on the road.

  It was nearly midday when Daigo informed her they were being followed. He started by casting looks to his side, repeatedly, as if spotting something. Then he slowed to sniff the air, his ears rotating.

  "Would Lord Okami send other men to escort us?" she whispered to Tyrus. "Men who'd keep to the shadows?"

  "Lord Okami does not keep to shadows very well," Tyrus said with a slight smile. "Nor do his men, as you may have noticed. If you see someone, it's likely local bandits."

  When she tensed, he let out a soft laugh. "You've little to fear. Lord Okami's relationship with the bandits is . . . atypical. They'd sooner die by their own swords than attack his men. If they follow, it's curiosity." He sobered. "Which may be more dangerous than robbery, under the circumstances. They can be trusted not to waylay us, but I'm not as certain they can be trusted to keep our presence a secret if the bounty is high enough. You saw someone?"

  "Daigo has. He and I will
fall back and look."

  "I'll join you."

  She shook her head. "That will be too obvious. Let the girl lag behind with her wildcat. If you get too far ahead, you can circle back, as if checking on me."

  He agreed, and Moria stopped, ostensibly to examine Daigo's paw, as if he'd stepped on something sharp. They both scanned the forest as she fussed with his forepaw.

  Daigo's ears swiveled west a moment before she caught a crackle in the forest. She snuck a look that way just in time to see a slight figure slipping through the trees.

  "I see only one," she whispered. "If it's a bandit, I don't think he's very old. He's not much bigger than me."

  Daigo grunted, as if confirming. The figure snuck closer. His cloak was a mottled brown that blended with his surroundings, and his footsteps made no sound after that one unfortunate crackle.

  "Will you take him down for me?" she whispered to Daigo.

  The wildcat charged before she could finish. The boy saw Daigo and yanked a sling from under his cloak. Moria loosed her dagger. It caught the boy's cloak just as he let his stone fly, and the missile launched harmlessly to the side as Daigo leaped on him. Moria ran over.

  "Well," said a lilting, high voice. "Aren't you the prettiest kitten ever. Those fangs are truly impressive, though I'd prefer they weren't quite so close to my throat."

  "They won't be if you promise to rise without running."

  "Agreed," the girl said. "You've caught me fair and square, and I'll cede victory to you, young Keeper."

  "Tell her to set aside her sling first," Tyrus's voice called behind them.

  "Ah, the little prince," the girl said as she rose. "I thought that was you. Not quite so little these days."

  "Lay down your sling, Sabre," Tyrus said, moving up beside them. "I know better than to be distracted by your chatter."

  The girl only laughed, and set aside her sling. As she stood, she pushed back her hood. She had called Moria "young" but she couldn't be more than a couple of summers older. She had the regional look of the warlord's men--wild black hair, high cheekbones, bronze skin, and eyes that seemed somewhere between blue and gray.

  "You know each other, I presume," Moria said.