Eona: The Last Dragoneye e-2

by Alison Goodman

  “Do you feel it?” he asked.

  I glanced up through the branches at the dark, bilious sky. Was he testing me? I paused and considered. “I feel something. It’s thick. More than just monsoon.”

  “Good,” Ido said. “From what direction?”

  Yuso stepped in closer, his hand on his sword. “Keep moving,” he ordered the Dragoneye.

  Ido looked sideways at him. “Keep moving, my lord,” he corrected, his voice cold.

  “Just keep moving,” Yuso said. “Or you will feel the hilt of a sword, my lord.”

  “Wait, captain. Lord Ido has something I wish to hear.” I turned back to the Dragoneye, ignoring Yuso’s tight-lipped scowl at my defection. “How do I find out what direction it is from?”

  “You already know,” Ido said, but his attention was still on Yuso, a sly smile baiting the guard.

  “No, I don’t.” Then I realized something was in my mind, colored red with anxiety. I focused on it, trying to catch its sense. Slowly it floated up from its deep mooring. “West. It’s coming from the west.”

  “Yes. Well done.” Ido finally pulled his gaze from Yuso and glanced up at the dark collection of clouds again. “West. The wrong direction for this time of year.”

  “Wrong direction? What does that mean?” Dela asked behind me.

  “It means a cyclone.” His frown deepened.

  “Here?” Vida’s horror mirrored my own. “When?”

  “Lady Eona, you tell us,” Ido said.

  Another test. “How?”

  “It is in the Hua of the earth. Sense it.”

  I had no idea what he meant. “With my power? But that will bring the dragons.”

  “No, just feel it. Like you do when you trace the pathways of your own Hua.”

  “Really?” I took a breath, still unsure. I knew the land had inner pathways like our meridians — they were the energy lines that crisscrossed the earth in bright bands. But how was I to sense them without shifting into the celestial plane? All I could feel was the heat on my skin, and the thud of my own heartbeat, and the draw of my breath into my chest, and the soft, soughing breeze across my skin, and the pulse of the insects in my ears and—

  “Five days,” I whispered.

  Ido smiled. “Five days,” he agreed.

  I laughed. “How did I do that?”

  He looked at me quizzically. “You are a Dragoneye. It is what we do.”

  I grinned, unable to contain my delight. I had listened to the land like a Dragoneye!

  Then a sobering thought struck me. “But we can’t stop it, can we?” That was the real work of a Dragoneye.

  He looked up at the sky again. “No. You will need training for that. And we will need more power. But at least we can get out of its way.”

  Silenced by the news, we started pushing through the undergrowth again. For all the danger of an impending cyclone, I could not help marveling at my new ability to listen to the land. Ido was already unlocking so much in me. I looked at the man’s broad back, trying to divine what was in his serpentine mind. He glanced back as if he had felt my thoughts, and for a heartbeat I was caught in the questioning amber of his eyes. Although there was no slide of silver through them, I still felt the draw of his power. I looked away. Yet from the corner of my sight I saw him smile, and my own lips rose into the ghost of an answer.

  Less than a half bell later, Yuso tensed and raised his hand. We stopped, watching the undergrowth.

  “Sir!” Caido’s lieutenant edged through a patch of bushes to our right. I would not even have guessed he was there. “They are a hundred lengths or so northeast.”

  “Has everything gone according to plan?” Caido asked.

  The man nodded. “His Majesty is waiting for us.”

  My skin prickled. Kygo was ahead. The news affected Ido, too. He drew back his shoulders as if preparing to face an over-whelming enemy. In a way, he was: Kygo would have little welcome for the man who had helped Sethon slay his family and seize his throne.

  I wiped sweat from my hairline. As I drew my hand away, I caught a flash of bright white on my finger: Moon Orchid’s paint. How much was still left on my face? I probably looked like a piebald horse.

  “Dela,” I whispered, glancing back at the Contraire. “Have I still got paint on my face?”

  With a smile, she studied me, then delicately flicked her thumb under my eye and along the dip of my chin. “It’s all gone.” She cupped my cheek. “Beautiful as ever.”

  We passed two sentries — Caido’s men, almost invisible in the undergrowth until they rose and sketched quick bows — and then the bushes and trees opened out into a spread of grassland.

  In its center, Kygo stood facing us, two men guarding him, with others spaced around the edge of the clearing. There were new faces among them; no doubt local resistance. Yuso led us forward, and with a lift to my heart, I saw Kygo’s eyes seek me first — a fleeting connection of relief and gladness. Then his attention cut to Ido, his expression hardening. Even I felt chilled by the cold rancor in Kygo’s face, although his stern beauty caught in my chest like a missed heartbeat.

  The ground underfoot already held the warmth of the heavy air, the sweet acidic smell of crushed grass rising around us. Kygo had undone the high collar of his tunic, and the milky sheen of the Imperial Pearl was framed against the dark cloth like a royal banner.

  A length from him, we stopped. Behind me, Dela and the others dropped to their knees. I lowered myself into my own obeisance, but, beside me, Ido did not move. I looked up, dread creeping across my shoulders. The Dragoneye stood in front of Kygo. The two men watched one another silently. They were almost matched in height, each locked in the other’s stare.

  “Bow,” Kygo said.

  Ido’s eyes flicked from Kygo to the two guards behind him. “You do not want me to bow.”

  What was he doing?

  Kygo frowned. “Bow, Lord Ido.”

  “No.” I saw the subtle shift of Ido’s feet as he pressed his weight into the ground. He was bracing.

  Yuso’s head rose from his kowtow. Ryko’s, too.

  “I said, bow!” In an instant, Kygo’s cold control was obliterated by savage fury.

  “I will not bow to you, boy.”

  I flinched even before I heard the dull crack of Kygo’s fist slamming into Ido’s face. Another blow, in the gut, hammered away Ido’s breath and doubled him over. He fell to his knees beside me, gasping. A vicious kick caught him in the ribs and dropped him into a hunched kowtow. Kygo stood over him, fist still clenched, the intention to keep punishing the Dragoneye in every line of his body.

  “Your Majesty,” I half rose from my bow. “Lord Ido is here to train me.”

  For a terrible moment, I thought he would just keep kicking.

  His eyes — dark with rage and grief — found mine. It was like the village inn again.

  “Kygo, he is no use to us dead!”

  The killing rage snapped out of his face, although the dark grief stayed within his eyes. With a nod, he stepped back, breathing hard.

  Still hunched over, head bowed, Ido looked across at me. Why had he deliberately provoked Kygo? He lifted an eyebrow. But before I could react, he looked back down and spat blood on the ground.

  “Lady Eona,” Kygo said. He was forcing calm into his voice. “Rise.”

  I stood, reeling from the calculation in Ido’s face.

  Kygo took my hand and drew me a few steps away. His knuckles were sticky with blood. “Do you have the same link with him that you have with Ryko?”

  We both glanced back at the bowed Dragoneye.

  I nodded, unease hollowing my gut. “I think he is provoking you, Kygo.”

  “Why would he do that?” His voice still held the sharp edge of violence. “I could have killed him.”

  “I don’t know.”

  Kygo shook his head. “He has nothing to gain by it. Stand beside me, Naiso.” He turned. “Everyone get up. Get back. Lord Ido, stay on your knees.”

>   The others scrambled to their feet as ordered, forming a ragged half-circle around the Dragoneye. Among all the hostile anticipation, only Dela’s face was troubled.

  “Look at me, Dragoneye,” Kygo ordered.

  Ido lifted his head. His top lip was split, bleeding into his mouth and down his chin.

  “Where is the black folio? Does Sethon have it?”

  Ido’s eyes flicked to mine. See, his expression said, this is all he wants.

  I chewed on the inside of my mouth. Of course Kygo wanted the folio — it was logical. We could not afford to have it fall into the hands of Sethon. Yet some deep part of me — the Dragoneye — did not want it in Kygo’s hands, either. But maybe that was just Ido’s mind games playing upon me. I could not think straight.

  “The folio is safe from Sethon,” Ido said. “My apprentice has it.”

  “Bring it to us.”

  Ido shook his head. “No. It is safe. That is enough.”

  “I do not ask, Dragoneye. I command.”

  “No.”

  Yuso stepped forward. “Your Majesty, let me explain obedience to Lord Ido.”

  “I understand your enthusiasm, captain,” Kygo said. “But there is no need.” He turned to me. “Force him, Lady Eona. Make him call the boy to us.”

  My gut froze. “Your Majesty,” I whispered, turning my head away from the circle of avid faces. “Do not ask me to do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “You are asking me to torture him.”

  He grabbed my arm and pulled me across the clearing. I stumbled after him, his iron grip wrenching me through the thick grass. He stopped and rounded on me. “What are you talking about, Eona? I am only asking what you have done before.”

  “I did it before because you threatened Ryko,” I hissed. “I will stop Ido from using his power against us, but I will not use my power for coercion and torture.” I pulled my arm out of his grip. “It should not even be an option. I thought you were better than that.”

  “That is a fine line you draw,” he snapped. “Did Ido come willingly with you? Or did you coerce him?”

  “I showed him I had the link.”

  “So when does it become coercion? When I ask you to do it?”

  “Yes!”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “I don’t care. I just know that what you ask is wrong. You know it, too.”

  He sucked in a breath. “We need the black folio, Eona. Sethon must not get it.”

  I pressed my hands to either side of my head. “Kygo, if I force Ido to get the folio, do you think he will train me?” I lowered my voice. “If I am to fulfill the portent and save the dragons, I need Ido’s knowledge.” I touched his arm. “Trust me; we will get the black folio.”

  He looked across at the kneeling Dragoneye. Ido had raised his head and was watching us. “Every part of me wants to hurt him,” Kygo said, his voice low.

  “I know.”

  He closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them again, the darkness had receded. He took my hand. “All right, we will do it your way, Naiso.”

  I returned the pressure of his fingers. “Thank you.”

  Kygo was an enlightened man, his father’s son, yet as he led me back to the silent ring of men and women, Ido’s taunt in the stable echoed in my mind: Why haven’t you told him?

  The Dragoneye watched us approach, his jaw set.

  “Captain,” Kygo said. Yuso stepped forward. “We stay here for the day and move out tonight. Bind Lord Ido and put a guard on him. Then report.”

  His order broke the tension around the ring of onlookers. Bowing, they backed away from the presence of their emperor, heading, no doubt, toward food and sleep. As Dela walked past me, she touched my arm lightly.

  “Be careful,” she whispered, and glanced back at the Dragoneye. “He does not have only dragon power.”

  “Get up,” Yuso ordered Ido.

  With slow insolence, Ido stood and looked at me as Yuso pulled his wrists together and bound them with rope. The steady hold of his eyes sent a wash of hot unease through me.

  “I must hear the captain’s report,” Kygo said. He watched dispassionately as Ido was shoved into a stumbling walk between two guards. “But please join me afterward.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty.” I bowed and backed away as Yuso approached.

  I headed toward the clump of trees where food and water were laid out. Although I kept my eyes fixed on the mill of people ahead, I could feel Ido’s gaze upon me like the press of a hand along the length of my spine. Dela was right. I had to be careful.

  A quarter bell later, I stood in front of Ido. My excuse was a cup of water and a strip of dried beef for the prisoner. But really, I needed to know why he had provoked Kygo.

  The morning sun had broken through the clouds and added a burning heat to the heavy air. Ido was on his knees under its full glare, forced into a punishment kneel that I knew was ironically called the Blessing: back rigid, bound hands held up at chin level. Sweat dripped from under his ragged hair and into his eyes. Although his face was impassive, the strain was evident in the trembling along his arms.

  I held out the cup.

  Awkwardly, he held up his bound hands and took the water. “This is becoming a habit,” he said.

  The guard leaning on a nearby tree trunk straightened. “My lady, Captain Yuso has ordered that Lord Ido does not get food or water until he says so.”

  “Apparently I’m learning about obedience,” Ido said, his voice hoarse. “The captain is keen to know the whereabouts of the black folio.”

  I glanced at Yuso, still in close conference with Kygo across the clearing. Was this Yuso’s own idea, or was he under orders? The thought was disquieting either way.

  “What is your name?” I asked the guard. He was one of Caido’s men; a skilled bowman, if I remembered rightly. He certainly had the shoulders and muscled forearms of an archer.

  “Jun, my lady.” He dipped into a bow.

  “Jun, do not make the mistake of thinking your captain’s orders outweigh mine. I wish to speak to Lord Ido about Dragoneye business.” I waved the man away. “It is not for your ears.”

  With an anxious glance at Yuso, Jun bowed again and edged out of earshot. Ido drained the cup and wiped his mouth with his thumb, the action making him wince. His top lip was swollen and the tight rope had already chafed a raw ring around his wrists.

  “Sit back,” I said.

  He sank on to his heels with a small sigh of relief. “I’m out of condition. My master used to make me hold a Staminata position for hours.” He rolled his shoulders. “We will start your training there: I don’t think you have done much Staminata work, and it is the cornerstone of energy manipulation.”

  I resisted the tantalizing call of his knowledge. “Why did you provoke Kygo?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “He could have killed you.”

  Ido squinted across at the emperor. “His mother and brother were murdered with my help. Of course he wants to kill me.”

  In the distance, Kygo raised his head as if he felt our attention, his sudden stillness a clear message.

  Ido gave a low laugh. “He doesn’t like you being here, either.”

  Nor did Yuso. The captain had also looked up, and I could feel the wave of fury from him.

  “Why did you provoke Kygo?” I repeated.

  Ido wiped the sweat out of his eyes with the back of one bound hand. “At some point, he was going to try to kill me. If it didn’t happen now, it was going to happen later, with even more heat behind it. Better that I gave him a reason to unleash it as soon as he saw me.” He touched his lip with a light finger. “Now it is done. He checked his rage. He has missed his kill moment.”

  I remembered the vicious brutality in Kygo’s eyes at the village inn. I wasn’t so sure the moment was lost. “It was a big gamble,” I said.

  “No. The dice were loaded in my favor.”

  “How?”

  “You.”

  I fro
wned. “You knew I would stop the emperor?”

  He tilted his head, watching me. “Yes.”

  Was I so transparent to him? The thought sent a small jab of fear through me.

  “It is obvious that he wants you,” Ido added. “He wants your power — and he wants your body.”

  My skin flushed under his blunt words. He made Kygo’s desire sound like his own attempt on my body and power in the harem — brutal and self-centered. I remembered the suffocating weight of his body pinning me against the wall, and his hunger for the Mirror Dragon’s power.

  As if he could see my thoughts, he said softly, “You have good reason to kill me, too.”

  “I have many good reasons,” I said crisply. “But I also have a good reason to keep you alive.”

  “I know. You want your world of power. That is why I knew you’d stop him.”

  I drew back, but he shook his head. “You don’t need to pretend with me, Eona. If there is one thing I understand, it is the need for power.”

  “I do not need power,” I said quickly.

  He studied the rope around his wrists. “Need. Want. Desire.” He shrugged. “You and I both know what it is like to have immense power. And we also know what it is like to be truly powerless.” He lifted his hands. “Not this kind of feeble restraint. You know what I mean: true and utter powerlessness. Whether it be the kind we have inflicted upon each other, or the kind that Sethon”—his hands clenched involuntarily—“deals in so masterfully. I will do whatever I must to never feel that powerless again. And you are the same.”

  “We are not the same,” I said vehemently. “And you are powerless now. I can compel you any time I want. Crush you, like that.” I closed my fist.

  He shook his head. “You’ve missed your kill moment, too, Eona.”

  I opened my mouth to deny it, but his knowing eyes silenced me. He was right. I’d had two chances to avenge my master and the other Dragoneye lords — on the night of the coup, and last night. I had failed both times.

  He gestured at the food in my hand. “Of course, you could very well kill me with frustration if you don’t give me that dried meat.”

  With a reluctant smile, I handed over the strip of beef. He crammed it into his mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Yuso striding toward us, almost vibrating with rage.