“You’ve misunderstood something,” he said, his voice not quite so steely, but with its own, stubborn conviction. “Or I have. What is it that you think you know?”
I did not blame him if he didn’t believe me. I had never lied to him—but then, I was only a servant. It was not unexpected that he would believe his brother’s character before my word, no matter the situation. But his was not a situation that allowed choice. I’d already made the decision for him. It went against my Emperor and my country, and it meant my life.
“I will take you from here by force,” I said. I could not bear to look at him. “If you will not go willingly, then I have no other choice.”
“Kouje.” My lord was nearly pleading with me. If it were any other place, and any other time, I would have looked toward him sternly; he would have known that now was when he commanded, rather than implored. Perhaps he remembered my old lessons, for after a moment he straightened, set his shoulders, and looked me in the eye. “Kouje, you will tell me what you know.”
My lord’s command was law. It was almost a relief to obey it. “Earlier this night, the Emperor called his council,” I said, my hands in fists at my side. “It was by accident that I heard them—you may punish me for the breach in conduct as you see fit, but only once we are away from here. The Emperor spoke to his seven lords, and accused you of treason.” If I separated each word before I spoke them, then I would not hear all that I was saying. It was easier, that way, to break my lord’s heart. “The Emperor spoke of a plan. He said that his younger brother was conspiring against him, and for that, he had forfeited his life.”
Mamoru shook his head. “But Kouje,” he whispered, “I have done nothing.”
I bowed. I was always grateful for protocol in moments of uncertainty. “I know that, my lord.”
“He must have misunderstood,” my lord continued, as though he hadn’t heard me. “Earlier, he reprimanded me for speaking the diplomats’ language—perhaps that’s why he thought…?” There, my lord paused for a long moment. One of the diplomats’ horses, in a stall close by, snorted and stamped his hooves. I considered, for a moment, stealing one of them—for the men at the gate would not recognize the foreign horse, and it might ease our escape.
When my lord spoke next, it startled me from my thoughts. There was new strength in his voice, new purpose.
“We must go to my brother at once,” he said, and his words caused my heart to sink in my chest. “We will explain to him—I will explain to him—I will prove that I am loyal. If he asks for any trial, I will give myself over to the test. He will know that I serve him, even if it—”
“Even if it kills you,” I said. My own voice had no color to it; the sound made the Volstov horses uneasy.
“If he thinks I’m guilty of this crime, then I cannot run from him,” Mamoru confirmed. “A guilty man flees. An innocent one returns to prove his innocence.”
Everything that he said made sense. It was calm and reasoned, the way I had endeavored to instruct my lord to make all his decisions. Mamoru was able to see reason where I could not.
Yet what I had neglected in my teachings was how reason gave way in the face of madness, and to Mamoru it surely must have seemed madness that had led to Iseul’s decision.
I could not give voice to my deepest fear, since I had no proof to make it manifest. My lord had no eyes with which to look upon Iseul’s faults, his unreasonable qualities, the terrible things he’d done during the war, all for the good of the Ke-Han. As he proclaimed this latest decree to be, only now it gave me reason to question all the others.
What manner of monster had the Emperor held in check? I could only wonder at how Iseul had changed since his father’s death and brought his true self to light. I had only my instincts, shaped over the years to know always what action was necessary, and to sense when something was wrong in the night. I had protected my lord’s life with a sword and a ready hand for all my adult life. There was nothing I