Eona: The Last Dragoneye e-2

by Alison Goodman

  Ido swallowed the mouthful, a quick sideways glance also taking in the captain’s approach. “Tell me, Eona,” he said, almost casually. “What is going to happen when you sleep? How will you compel me then?”

  I met his keen scrutiny with my best bluffing face. “We are always linked. If you call your dragon, I will feel it.” It was half true: we were linked by that single thread of his Hua, just as I was linked to Ryko. But I could not feel the connection all the time, and not while I was asleep.

  “Always linked?” he echoed. “Perhaps you will feel my touch in your dreams.”

  “If I do, it will be a nightmare,” I said sharply.

  He laughed, amber eyes at their most wolfish. I turned to meet Yuso’s bristling arrival by my side.

  “Lady Eona!” The captain’s voice was icily courteous. “I have given explicit orders regarding Lord Ido. Please do not interfere.”

  “Lord Ido is here to train me, captain,” I said, just as icily.

  “He is of no use to me if he is starving and exhausted. Do not deny him food and rest. Do you understand?”

  Yuso glared at me.

  “Do you understand, captain?” I snapped.

  “As you wish, Lady Eona.” He bent his neck in a stiff bow.

  “Is that what obedience looks like, captain?” Ido asked blandly, but his eyes met mine in lightning amusement.

  I quickly turned and walked away. It would do me no good if either man saw my smothered smile.

  One of the new faces — a young man with the flatter features of the high plains people — bowed as Vida poured me a cup of water under the trees. I sipped the tepid liquid, then poured a little into my cupped palm and patted its wet relief onto the nape of my neck. I was glad to be out of the sun, and just as glad to be away from the keen mind of Ido: he played us all as if we were the Revered Strategy Game.

  Nearby, Dela sat on the grass, the red folio open and her brow creased with concentration as she traced the ancient script with her fingertips. She did not even look up when Ryko brought her a cup of water. The big man placed it beside her, then sat a few lengths away, a silent sentinel guarding her back as she worked.

  I found myself watching Ido again, as if he were a lodestone drawing my attention. Jun had finally escorted him to the shade of a tree a good distance from the rest of us. The Dragoneye sat hunched at its base, his bound hands held awkwardly before him. He looked in my direction; the angle of his dark head held a strange intimacy.

  “My lady,” the young plainsman at my side said. “His Majesty wishes to see you now.”

  With a start, I turned to face Kygo’s level gaze, my skin prickling as if I had been caught doing something wrong. He was seated on a fallen log that had been rolled under the shade of a large tree and covered with a blanket: the throne of a usurped emperor. Even at rest, there was a coiled vigilance in the trained grace of his body.

  He pulled the long braid of his imperial queue over his shoulder, and smoothed his hand along its length; something he did, I realized, when he was perturbed. I smiled, and was relieved to see the immediate answer in his face. After Ido’s game-playing, the warmth in Kygo’s smile was like a sweet balm. Holding back the absurd desire to run to him, I crossed the grass with as much stately poise as I could muster.

  “Your Majesty,” I said, and bowed.

  “Lady Eona,” he said, just as formally.

  For a moment we both hesitated, still caught in the hours spent apart. Then he took my hands and pressed his lips against my fingers. In that quick, hard gesture I felt the distance between us close. And I felt something new: possession.

  “I could not give you a proper welcome before,” he said, glancing across at Ido. “I underestimated my dislike of the man.”

  “Did you order Yuso to punish him, Your Majesty?”

  He blinked at the sudden question. I had not meant to ask so abruptly, but the needling disquiet had forced its way out.

  “You mean the Blessing? No, I did not order it.”

  “Then Yuso is acting alone?”

  “Yuso knows how important the black folio is to us. But perhaps I did not make it clear that Ido is to be left alone. For now, anyway.” He lifted my hand. “Come, sit by me.”

  The honor of the invitation and the soft lilt in his voice overwhelmed my lingering unease. I rose from my knees. As I settled on to the log, the draw of his fingers guided me close to him, until our thighs almost touched. He rested our interlocked hands across the sliver of space between us. A bridge across our bodies.

  Dela looked up from her study of the red folio with a frown. For a moment, I thought she disapproved of my position beside the emperor, but then I realized she was staring past us in thought. She must have found something. Hopefully, it was not another dark portent.

  “I have had some good news,” Kygo said. Excitement had stripped away the new, harder lines of command in his face. “Word from the Mountain Resistance. Our strategy of attacking soft targets is beginning to succeed.”

  It was the plan he had put in place during our last days in the crater. Using the wisdom of Xsu-Ree, he had ordered the resistance groups to attack weaker outposts and lure Sethon’s forces to defend them. By the time the army reached the position with reinforcements, the resistance would have already moved on to attack the next target. According to Xsu-Ree, it would not only keep Sethon’s forces shifting around, frustrating and exhausting them, it would also provide an insight into Sethon’s own strategy.

  “That is excellent news, Kygo.” I tightened my hand around his fingers and smiled at the quick, ardent return. The Imperial Pearl at the base of his strong throat glowed in the periphery of my vision: a pale reminder of our kiss.

  “For the moment it seems Sethon’s arrogance does not see us as a coherent threat,” he added. “That will change, but for the time being we will strike and harass his forces and attack the Hua-do of his men.”

  His words prompted an image of High Lord Haio and his table of red-faced, sweating officers. “I think Sethon is already losing the Hua-do of his men,” I said. “What was the line in Xsu-Ree about the signs of an enemy’s will?”

  “‘Men huddled in small groups, with voices low, give sign of disaffection and dying Hua-do,’” Kygo recited.

  “Yes. When we were in the palace, High Lord Haio—” I stopped, realizing the man was another of Kygo’s uncles.

  He smiled grimly. “Go on.”

  “High Lord Haio and his officers seemed bitter. And when I was brought before Sethon, it was obvious even his top men were afraid of him.”

  “That was well observed.” His thumb stroked my finger. “Yuso said you had come face to face with Sethon. Thank the gods he did not recognize you.”

  “He is a vile man,” I said, shuddering. “I pity anyone in his power.”

  “I have some good news on that front, too,” Kygo said. “A messenger from Master Tozay has caught up with us.” He nodded toward a dusty young man talking to Ryko. “Tozay has found your mother. She is safe from Sethon.”

  “My mother?” My heart quickened so fast it brought a pain to my chest.

  “Yes. Tozay is sailing to meet us farther along the coast with supplies. He is bringing your mother with him.”

  “I will see her?” I could not focus through the tumult raging in me. After so many years, would she recognize me? What if she did not like me? What if she had sold me because I was—

  “In four days, if all goes to plan. We can sail out before the cyclone hits,” Kygo said. He squeezed my hand again. “Are you all right?”

  I cleared the ache in my throat. “Was there mention of my father and brother, too?”

  Regret pulled at his mouth. “There was no word of them.”

  At least my mother was safe. I touched the word again, letting it settle into calmer meaning. Mother. All I could remember was a woman crouched beside me, the weight of her arm around my shoulders, and a smile that held the same curve as my own. “I have not seen her since I was about
six.”

  “She will be very proud of you,” Kygo said. “You have brought great honor to your family.”

  A cold shadow fell across my excitement. If Kygo knew the full history of my family, he would not be so gracious.

  “There is no possible way she cannot be proud,” he added, misreading my frown. “You are not only the Mirror Dragoneye— the first in over five hundred years — but also the imperial Naiso. You are the most powerful woman in the empire, Eona.”

  I looked across at Ido, his head cradled in his arms. I had not yet attained my true power. But I would soon.

  Kygo followed my gaze. “He puts us all on edge. I hope he is worth the trouble you took to get him.” He reached over and, with a gentle finger, lifted one of the coils of my bedraggled Peony hairstyle. The warm musk of his skin opened through me like a flower. “Yuso said you played your part brilliantly.”

  I flushed. “Being Lord Eon was much easier. At least it had fewer hairpins and a lot less paint.”

  He laughed. “But I like Lady Eona much more.” His finger dropped from my hair and traced the sweep of my jaw. “Truly, you look very beautiful.” The blatant appreciation in his eyes brought a flash of heat to my face.

  I focused on our clasped hands. The leather thong still bound his ring against my wrist. Although something within me knew I should not say it, I could not stop the words. “I had a lot of help. From Moon Orchid.”

  His fingers around mine tensed. I glanced up, almost afraid to see what was in his face. The soft smile sent a shard of ice into my heart.

  “Moon Orchid helped you? How is she?”

  “She is well. Very beautiful,” I said tightly.

  He pulled his hand free and rubbed the back of his neck. “Good. That’s good.”

  “She recognized your blood ring.” I forced my finger through the knot tied by Moon Orchid. With a yank, I unwrapped the leather and pulled it free from my wrist. “Here. I brought it back.”

  We both stared at the ring swinging between us.

  “Keep it,” he said.

  “Moon Orchid said it meant a lot to you.”

  “It does.”

  “Your ‘step into manhood,’ she called it,” I said, with too much edge in my voice.

  His fingers closed around the ring, stopping its arc. “Did you think I had lived as a monk, Eona?”

  “Of course not,” I said, but I did not look up from his fist. I was a fool. He was an emperor, required by the law of his land to marry royalty, keep a harem, and sire many, many sons.

  “I have not seen her for a year,” he added.

  “It does not matter, does it?” I said, a terrible realization breaking over me. I let go of the leather, the two long strands falling over his hand. “I am not royal. And I will not be a concubine. There is no place for me.”

  “There is a place for you if I say so.” He opened his fist. The ring had pressed a dark red indentation into his skin. “Your power changes everything. It has its own rules.”

  It always came back to my power. Ido was right.

  “What if I said you could have either me or my power? Which one would you choose?”

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “Which would you choose?”

  “It is not even a real choice, Eona. Your power is part of you.”

  I lifted my chin. “Which one, Kygo? Tell me!”

  His mouth tightened. “I would choose your power.” I pulled back, but he caught my shoulder. “I would choose your power because I choose for the empire. I can never just choose for myself. You said you understood.”

  “I understand perfectly.” I knelt, dislodging his hand, and bowed my head. “May I withdraw, Your Majesty?”

  “You are not just your power, I know that,” he said. “Eona, why are you creating a problem where there is none?”

  I kept my head bowed.

  “You are being ridiculous.” His voice snapped into exasperation.

  “May I withdraw?”

  He hissed out a breath. “All right, go.”

  I backed away out of the shelter of the tree into the sun, the burning heat on my nape the only warmth in the whole of my frozen body.

  I did not want company. Nor did I want the hunk of bread that Dela held out. But she would not go away. She crouched in front of me, blocking the sightline of my target, a tree stump a few lengths away. I leaned around her and threw another rock, hitting the wood with a satisfying clunk.

  My retreat was not the most comfortable or prettiest of places — the small, raised outcrop of stones and dirt amid the lush grassland was like a scab on the earth, and it had no protection from the blazing sun — but it did have the advantage of being as far from Kygo as possible within the confines of our camp.

  Dela dusted off a half-buried rock and placed the bread on it. “I hear that Master Tozay has found your mother,” she said.

  I grunted and threw a smaller pebble. It ricocheted off the stump. Ten points, if I was keeping score.

  “Finding your mother; that’s good, isn’t it?” she ventured.

  I grunted again. If I said something, she would think it was an invitation to stay and talk. I’d had enough talk. And enough thinking. And definitely enough feeling.

  “You seem to have had another disagreement with His Majesty,” she tried.

  I chose the largest rock in reach and, with a hard flick of my wrist, spun it at the stump. It carved a chunk out of the wood, the sliver flying up in a high arc. That had to be at least twenty points.

  “Was it about Lord Ido?” She edged over again, her brows drawn into a worried knit.

  “No.”

  “What was it, then? You cannot just sit here in the sun, throwing rocks. The perimeter guards are getting edgy. And you are ruining your complexion.”

  I fingered the smooth stone in my hand. “What did you find in the folio?”

  She looked down at the red journal, its pearls wrapped around her wrist. “How do you know I found something?”

  I aimed again. The stone hit square and bounced into the bushes. If I were playing for coins — like I used to with the other Dragoneye candidates — I would be making a fortune.

  “I found out who the other man was in the triangle with Kinra and Emperor Dao,” she said softly, breaking the silence.

  I flicked over a few rock possibilities and chose a nasty edged piece of flint.

  “It was Lord Somo,” Dela said.

  “Never heard of him.”

  “He was the Rat Dragoneye.”

  I paused, my hand drawn back midthrow. “Kinra was in league with the Rat Dragoneye?” I looked across the clearing at Ido, the irony of it welling up into a harsh laugh.

  “What do you think it means?” Dela asked.

  “Nothing,” I said flatly. “The book is a history, not a prophecy.” I threw the flint. It completely missed the stump.

  “But it does have the portent in it,” she said. I shrugged, unwilling to concede the point. “It is just a coincidence, then?”

  “Yes,” I said firmly.

  “I don’t think so.” Dela was just as firm. “Look at me, Eona.”

  I finally met the worry in her deep-set eyes. “All right, then. What do you think it means?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But Lord Ido is here, and His Majesty is here. And you are between them. A Rat Dragoneye, an emperor, and a Mirror Dragoneye.”

  “I am not between them. Lord Ido is here to train me. And Kygo is here to use me,” I said bitterly. “Use you?”

  I cursed my tongue and the tears that had come to my eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing.” I groped for a change of subject. “Have you spoken to Ryko yet? Now that you know he returns your regard.”

  She squinted at me, finally giving in to the clumsy deflection. “Yes, I spoke to him.” “And?”

  “He said that he has nothing to offer me. No rank, no land. Not even his free will.” She sighe
d.

  I leaned forward. “But that doesn’t matter, does it? You would take him with nothing, because you love him.” “Yes, of course.”

  I picked up another rock and lined up the stump. “Lucky Ryko,” I said.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  OUR GOAL WAS the coast. Master Tozay had nominated Sokayo, a small village with resistance sympathies and a good harbor for our rendezvous. It was at least three nights of hard traveling away, even without the added complication of Sethon’s patrols sweeping the land.

  Twice during the first night we crouched among the dense foliage, praying to the gods as troops passed by only a few lengths away. And on a dawn scouting mission, Yuso came face to face with a young foraging soldier. Yuso’s description of the encounter was predictably terse; he held up a precious map of the area and two dead rabbits, adding that no one would find the man’s body. The gods, it seemed, were not only hearing our prayers, they were answering them.

  Between the tense hours of night travel and snatched hours of sleep during the day, Ido began to teach me the Staminata: the slow-moving combination of meditation and movement that helped to counteract the energy drain of communing with a dragon. I’d had only one Staminata lesson before the coup, but even that had helped me understand the transfer of energy throughout my body. Ido said the training was as much for him as for me. If he was to have any chance of holding back the ten bereft beasts while I practiced the dragon arts, he needed to restore the balance of energy in his own body.

  And it was becoming painfully apparent by our second session that balance was the essence of the Staminata.

  “Make your moon palm flatter,” Ido ordered, beside me.

  We were more or less alone — if two silent, invisible sentries ten or so lengths away could be called alone — and the morning heat had not yet descended. Even so, as I drew back my left hand I felt a trickle of sweat slide down my neck. I’d been holding the starting position for more than a full bell — a deceptively easy stance of palms faced out, knees slightly bent, and bare feet pressed into the earth — and my arms and legs were shaking with the strain. Ido held the same position. From the corner of my eye, I could see that he was sweating just as much, his bare torso slick with effort, although I could discern no trembling in his arm muscles. Just two days of travel rations and patchy rest had remedied the gaunt exhaustion in his body.