Under the careful direction of the physician, I pressed the darkened swelling around Kygo’s chest. His skin was reassuringly warm, the dried smears of mud dusting my fingers and leaving a powdery track of my progress. I found no shiftings or softenings of bone along his ribcage.
The physician nodded, pleased. “Only bruised.” He noted something on Kygo’s head and moved to study it. “This injury on his crown; I cannot see how deeply it penetrates. Pull it apart for me so I can see within, please.”
We exchanged places. The wound sliced through the regrowth on Kygo’s shaved head, alongside the mud-matted imperial queue. I positioned my fingers on either side and carefully shifted the thin flesh.
The physician peered closely at it, then sighed with relief.
“It is only a shallow cut. That is good news. The point of power in the crown is the seat of the spirit. If that is damaged, there is no way to heal it.”
I nodded. In Dragoneye studies, the vivid purple point was also called the House of Truth. It was the center of insight and enlightenment—vital for an emperor.
The physician ushered me back along Kygo’s body. “Now, his pulse. Sun side.”
I picked up Kygo’s right hand, cradling the long fingers and broad palm in my own. He wore a ring on his middle finger—I had not noted it closely before—a thick gold band studded with rounds of red jade. It was a blood amulet, like the one Lieutenant Haddo had worn around his neck, calling on Bross for protection in battle. I touched the ring, expecting cold metal, but it held Kygo’s heat. Positioning my three mid fingers along the tendons in his wrist, I found the steady, strong rhythm of his life force. The last time my fingertips had pressed upon his pulse, the rhythm had been much faster. My gaze locked on the pearl at his throat.
“Now, feel the full movement within each beat.”
I focused my senses on the tiny shifts beneath my fingertips as the physician led me through his art. It took all of my concentration to understand how to distinguish the three basic divisions of each beat and their projections. Finally, I mastered the fine differences, and the questions began. Was the tiny sign of life deep or superficial? Did it start boldly or hesitate? Was there any hold at the end, or did it rush forward into the next? How long was each peak and lull? The examination was endless. And then it was all repeated again with the emperor’s moon pulse.
Finally, the physician sat back and rubbed his lined face. “Thank you, my lady. I have enough information.” He bowed. “You have done very well. It usually takes years to develop such a finely tuned sense of touch.”
“Will he be all right?” I asked.
“I must admit I am anxious. He has been a long time in the shadow world, and every bell he does not awaken makes it more dangerous.”
I took a steadying breath. “But he will come back, won’t he?”
The physician crossed to the brazier. “Sometimes the shadow world keeps its visitors. We must pray that his Hua is strong enough to resist its lures. To help him, I will prepare a ginseng wash. It will both cleanse his body of the ordeal and kindle his sun energy. Do you know of the twelve meridian lines in the body, my lady?”
I nodded. Every time I entered the energy world, I saw the twelve pathways in my own body and in the energy bodies of those around me. It had also been part of the basic training of a Dragoneye candidate; the flow of Hua was the basis of everything in the world. “I have studied them,” I added.
The physician looked up, relieved. “You will need to wash him along those meridian lines.” He struck a small gong, its rich resonance echoing through the waiting cave. Then he poured water into the pan set on the brazier.
I nodded my understanding, although the impending task made me shift uneasily on the stool. I had never touched a man’s body in such an intimate way.
The physician selected a small ceramic bottle from a wooden crate on the floor and pulled out the stopper with a small pop. The whole flask was emptied into the pan. Then another bottle was selected, its contents carefully sprinkled across the top.
A small boy appeared at the edge of the screen. “I am sorry I took so long, master,” he said breathlessly. “There are so many people out there.” His wide-eyed stare was fixed on me.
The physician looked around. “Ask Madina for more washing and drying towels and bring them back here.” He cast a professional glance across at me. “Also ask her to make some soup for Lady Eona. She will know the one I mean. But tell her to leave out the toll herb.”
The boy bowed and backed away.
The physician took a long, carved stick and stirred the contents of the pan. “For maximum benefit, His Majesty should be washed by a male.” He looked across at me and smiled apologetically. “Your moon energy could nullify some of the efficiency of the ginseng. However, since only you can touch him, I have used all of my ginseng stock. Hopefully that will overcome the problem.” He took the pan off the brazier and poured the steaming liquid into a large porcelain bowl. Halfway through he paused, pan still held high, as if struck by some thought.
“My lady, forgive my bluntness, but are you and His Majesty lovers? You touched him with such tenderness that I must ask. If you are, it will affect my preparations.”
Bright heat rose through me, exploding into a choking laugh. “No,” I said. “No, we are not.” Involuntarily, my eyes flicked over to Kygo, the heat intensifying. “I am his Naiso. That is all.”
He nodded and poured the last of the liquid into the bowl. “Then if there is no physical bond, the measurements should be correct.”
I stared down at my muddied feet. Did a tender touch on the cheek count as a physical bond? Perhaps I should tell him. But how could I explain the pearl? Something had ignited within Kygo when I had caressed it. And, if I was truthful, something within me as well. I let the small acknowledgment settle into my spirit.
Dealing with Kygo had been much easier when I was Lord Eon. Admittedly, I had walked a deadly tightrope of disguise, but there had been none of this uneasy desire to touch and be touched. I knew about the physical act of love; once or twice on the salt farm I had accidentally come upon the hurried, furtive couplings of the other bond slaves. Did those acts arise from the same longing I felt in my blood when I touched Kygo? Yet at the same time we were barely friends. Allies, at best.
The physician carefully brought the filled bowl across to me. As he placed it on the low table, his apprentice slipped around the screen with a stack of cloth in his arms.
“Madina says the soup will be ready soon, master,” he said, and bowed.
The physician took the bundle, dismissing the boy with a flick of his fingers.
“My lady, once you have washed His Majesty, you must eat and bathe in our thermal waters to restore your energy. You are as important to this resistance as His Majesty.” He placed the cloths next to the bowl and bowed. “I must give my report to Viktor, but I will return soon. Do you have any questions?”
No questions, but I did have a confession. I forced myself to meet the man’s kind eyes. “I have not lain with His Majesty,” I said. “But he has touched me once with … gentleness.” I pressed my fingers against my hot cheek, remembering the soft caress.
The physician smiled. “A gentle touch does not affect my measurements.”
He bowed again, and backed around the edge of the screen.
I was alone with Kygo. I picked up a folded cloth and dipped it into the ginseng wash, keeping my eyes averted from his body. The fragrant water still held the soft sting of heat. I squeezed out the excess, juggling the cloth between my hands, and held it up for a moment to let it cool.
The anxious whispering in the main cave ebbed into silence. The physician must be consulting with Viktor. They had moved too far away to hear their conversation, but even from behind the screen I could feel the held breath of the waiting crowd.
Where to start the wash? My gaze skipped over the pearl and landed uncomfortably on the blanket across his hips. Perhaps I would start with his arms: they
had strong meridian lines and did not have any intimate beginnings or endings.
I slid my hand under his right forearm, noting the strong flare of muscle from wrist to elbow, built from long hours with his sword, and the thick ridge of blue vein. From my studies, I knew the sun arm held three meridian lines: heart, lung, and vessel. The heart meridian, fed from the point of power in the chest, represented compassion and governed spirit. I glanced at Kygo’s face—even though he was lost in the shadow world, his features held nobility and determination. No doubt his heart meridian, which stretched from shoulder to ring finger, was strong and clear of blockage. I rested his arm along mine, the muscled weight of it bringing a sharp memory of Ido’s body pressing mine against the palace wall.
I paused, disturbed by the strange alignment of the two men in my mind. Both were tall and powerful, but Ido’s physicality always held menace. With a shiver, I pushed away the image of the Dragoneye. If he was still alive, I could do nothing for him at present. And if he was dead, then let the gods help us all.
I swept the cloth from Kygo’s shoulder to wrist, first following the meridian lines and then once again following the long, dense contours of muscle. Gently, I lowered his arm back on to the bed.
I soaked and squeezed out another cloth. For the sake of balance, I should wash his moon arm. Instead, I was drawn to his face. Had I looked so serene when I was senseless? I could not remember anything of the shadow world, although I had dwelled there for two days. Perhaps Kygo was living another life where he was just a man, and not the hope of an empire. Was that why he did not want to return? I could understand the relief of dropping such a burden. Delicately, I wiped his broad forehead and then under his eyes, following the meridian line across the high plane of his cheekbones. His face had strong, clean angles: if I’d still had my drawing ink and paper, I could have sketched him with a few bold lines. Yet I doubted my small skill would have done justice to the harmony of his features.
I paused, considering the problem of his split lower lip. If I wiped it clear of blood, it could start the flow again. Carefully, I touched the damp cloth to his mouth, trying not to pull at its tender fullness. The corners held a natural uplift, or maybe he was smiling at someone in the shadow world.
Two men had kissed me in my life—the salt farm whipmaster, before Dolana had stepped in and made a bargain of herself to spare me. And Ido. I pressed my lips together, remembering the sweet vanilla and orange. He had tasted like the essence of his dragon. Neither kiss had been welcome—but then, neither man had sought a welcome. They had both just taken what they wanted.
I bent closer to Kygo and felt the feather flow of his breath against my mouth. If I brushed his lips with mine, would he feel it in the shadow world? The earthy scent of ginseng rose from the warmth of his skin, settling deep inside me. The physician had said Kygo would not remember his pain when he returned. Was it the same with pleasure? The rhythm of his breathing became mine. I felt the colors around us blur, a soft, hypnotic slide toward the energy plane. For a moment I hung above him, our breaths intermingled. Could I take what I wanted?
I pulled back, ashamed of the impulse. Such an act would be dishonorable. I would be no better than the whipmaster or Ido. I shook my head, trying to clear the strange residue of power. I had not meant to shift into the energy world. What little control I had seemed to be slipping away.
I squeezed out a new cloth, my disquiet wringing it into tight folds. I needed help, soon, but this was not the time to dwell on my failures. With fierce concentration, I washed Kygo’s bruised jaw, the soft material catching on the darkening of stubble. Another cloth took me down the strong column of his throat. I stopped just above the curve of the Imperial Pearl. Mud had encrusted its gold setting, and collected in the half-healed stitching that secured it in the hollow between his collarbones. The pearl itself was pristine, its presence still crouched at the base of my skull.
Slowly, I prepared another cloth, my eyes fixed on the glowing gem. I did not dare clean the mud from around it. My encounter with the black folio had taught me that Kinra’s heritage was strong in my blood, and getting stronger. And Kinra wanted the pearl, at whatever price. I dug my hand into my gown pocket and pulled out the death plaque pouch, then placed it carefully beside the washbowl. Away from me, just in case.
I wiped the fresh cloth down Kygo’s chest, trying to keep my focus on the vital central meridian along his breastbone. Yet the pearl’s luminescence stayed within the periphery of my vision. Slowly, its glow drew my eyes up his body until I stared into its shimmering depths, and saw a silvery shift within it.
Heat rushed through me, bringing the memory of warm power beneath my fingertips and Kygo’s racing pulse. I clenched my hand around the cloth, fighting the desire to reach across and bring that strange moonlit moment again. Certainty whispered within me: the pearl would call Kygo back. The pearl would kindle his sun energy, quicken his blood, and strengthen his Hua. All I had to do was place my hand on its pale beauty.
As my fingers touched the gem’s velvety surface, Kygo’s breath broke into a harsh rasp. He shuddered beneath me, his eyes opening wide and wild. He was still caught in the shadow world. With frightening speed, he gripped my wrist and wrenched me along his body. I sprawled across his chest, instinctively pulling away, but his other hand grabbed the back of my neck. He swung himself upright on the pallet, his legs locking around my waist.
“Kygo! It’s me! Eona!”
His eyes finally focused, awareness breaking like a wave over their dark savagery. We stared at each other—shock stripping us both bare—and then he pulled me against him, our mouths meeting in hard recognition. Something within my spirit surged, matching his intensity in the brutal, searching connection. My free hand found the back of his head and guided him closer, deeper. I felt the press of his tongue against mine, the sudden union sending a jolt through my body. I gasped and pulled my head back, the taste of salty copper and ginseng on my lips.
“You’re bleeding,” I said and touched his mouth.
His tongue found my fingertip, his teeth grazing the skin as his lips closed into a kiss around it. I pulled my hand away, frightened by the answering rush through me. His eyes met mine, both of us poised in a moment I did not understand. Then with a shuddering sigh, he leaned his forehead against my shoulder.
“Eona,” he whispered.
Hesitantly, I laid my hand on the nape of his neck.
“Your Majesty, you are awake!” It was the physician’s voice. His loud relief echoed against the stone walls and ceiling.
We both tensed, Kygo’s legs tightening around me. Behind us, the silent cave erupted into ragged cheers that grew louder and louder as the news of the emperor’s return from the shadow world rippled back through the cavern. Kygo drew me closer as the joyous sound rolled over us, his breathing warm against my shoulder. I leaned into his solid chest. As the last cheer faded, he finally lifted his head, his eyes finding mine in a moment of regret. Then he unwound his legs from my body and released my wrist, his thumb stroking a parting promise across the tender skin.
“Approach,” he said to the physician, and his voice was a command.
CHAPTER TEN
I WADED INTO the center of the thermal pool, the pungent heat sending a shiver across my shoulders. Around the stone edge, dozens of paper lanterns made the small cavern glow, silvering the ripples in the water and casting Madina’s angular shadow onto the back wall. The physician’s wife sat on the rough steps that led to the pool, guarding my privacy and waiting to attend me once I had bathed.
I stretched my arms along the surface of the water and luxuriated in the loosening of my muscles and the blessed quiet of the small chamber. Kygo’s recovery had initiated a flurry of formal introductions and military reports that seemed set to continue for hours. Thankfully, Madina’s husband had quickly stepped in and insisted that both the emperor and his Naiso be given the chance to eat and bathe before the strategizing began in earnest.
The t
hought of Kygo sent a shock of pleasure through me. I ducked lower in the water, as if the memory of our kiss was engraved upon my body for anyone to see. I closed my eyes and relived each moment of it, the hot bath masking the flush that crept across my skin. His need had been overwhelming, but the memory of my own brought an even deeper heat to my face.
Did he think me immodest? Dolana had once told me that men were frightened by female passion. I could understand why; my response had terrified me. I thought back to the lingering touch on my wrist as Kygo had released me, and the furtive glances between us as Viktor had formally welcomed him and reported on the rescue of our party. Every time our eyes met, it had felt as if his lips were once again on mine. And I had seen the echo of it in his eyes, too. How could such heat remain when we were not even touching?
I stood up, seeking the relief of cooler air. Perhaps our response to each other had not been wholly our own. Perhaps it had been guided by Kinra. I turned the idea over, unsure if the possibility was a relief or a bitter disappointment. I had removed the death plaque from my pocket before I touched the Imperial Pearl. Even so, I had been driven to touch it by some force, in much the same way I had been driven before.
According to Dela’s reading of the red folio—now lost with her—Kinra had been a woman trading in passion, caught in a triangle between Emperor Dao and another man. Had the residue of such violent feeling affected Kygo and me? I stared into the dark water and tried to reconcile my feelings with my thoughts. It would be much easier if such passion could be blamed on my ancestress. Kygo and I could go on as before— just allies. Yet what I felt was not secondhand, nor five centuries old. And I had to admit that I did not want Kygo’s ardor to be anything other than his own.
With a sigh, I ducked into the water again, away from the troubling thoughts. There were more important concerns: the harrowing loss of my friends and the two folios. And, of course, the biggest worry: was Ido still alive? There was an obvious way to answer that question. All I had to do was enter the energy world and see if I could feel the Dragoneye’s presence through his beast, as I had before. Yet it had been a risk then, and it was an even greater risk now. If Ido was dead and his protection gone, simply entering the celestial plane could destroy me. Even if he was still alive, I did not wholly trust that I could surface from the energy world. The ancient forces within me seemed to be getting stronger.
Eona: The Last Dragoneye Page 16