Eona: The Last Dragoneye e-2

by Alison Goodman

  “Madina,” I called.

  The woman half rose from the step. “Yes, my lady.”

  How was I to explain what I was about to do? She knew I was the Mirror Dragoneye, but that would only mean rank and power to her, not the possibility of destruction and death.

  “I need to find my dragon in the energy world. Will you stand by me and, if I should go under or seem in trouble, pull me from the water?”

  She eyed me for a moment. “Of course, my lady.” Gathering her skirt, she walked around the edge of the pool and crouched beside me.

  I looked up at her calm face. “It may be dangerous.”

  “Do what you must, my lady,” she said earnestly, her hand resting on mine for a moment. “I will be here.”

  I lowered myself into the hot water until my shoulders were immersed, and turned my focus inward. For all my trepidation, it took only five deep breaths to ease open my mind’s eye and shift between the worlds. The dim cave became a vibrant swirl of color and energy; above me, Madina’s transparent figure raced with Hua, her outward calm belied by the fear that pumped quicksilver through her body. Hesitantly, I reached out into the energy world with my own Hua, as if prodding soft ground with a staff.

  Was it safe?

  There was no rush of grieving power or the sense of another force taking over. All I could feel was the rich, warm presence of the red dragon pressing against me, an irresistible invitation to unite. I eased fully into the energy world, transfixed by the red beast that filled the eastern corner of the chamber. Her power slid around me like a deep caress, drawing me toward the call. My mouth could taste the cinnamon roundings of our shared name. All I had to do was voice its warmth and we would be one. I clenched my teeth; I must not. Ten powerful reasons not to were waiting to tear us apart.

  Gathering all my will, I turned from the bright presence of the Mirror Dragon toward the north-northwest corner. My breath caught; the smaller Rat Dragon was almost transparent, its crouching body rigid and withered.

  Ido? I called silently. Could he still hear me through the blue dragon?

  The beast slowly lifted his head. A set of pale opal talons reached toward me.

  Eona. Ido’s voice was a shiver in the warm air and was gone again.

  I flinched from the suffering within it, my grip sliding from the rock. Madina caught my shoulder and pulled me back to the edge. The energy world buckled, shuddering back into the dim interior of the cave.

  “Are you all right, my lady?” Madina asked.

  I nodded, unable to speak through the ache in my throat. The Rat Dragon was so frail. If Ido was as debilitated as his beast, then he did not have much longer to live.

  “Are you crying, my lady?”

  “Everything is all right,” I said. “Thank you.” I turned away from her scrutiny and scooped up a handful of water, splashing its hot camouflage across my face. I had known the Rat Dragon’s magnificent power; in fact, I had joined with it. To see the beast so diminished tore at me, even if he was the foundation of Ido’s dark power. And I could not deny that the Dragoneye had risked himself twice to save me. It did not absolve him of his terrible crimes, but perhaps even he did not deserve this torment.

  Another shadow appeared on the back wall of the cave; a serving woman bowing to Madina, the soft sibilance of her whisper rolling off the stone. By the time I had turned, she was already backing away, message delivered.

  “My lady,” Madina said, rising stiffly. “His Majesty wishes you to join him as soon as possible.” She opened a wide drying cloth.

  I held still in the water, a rush of exhilaration and dark unease searing me. Kygo wanted to see me, as soon as possible. Once again, I felt his legs around my waist and his muscular body against mine. I took a shuddering breath. How could I want something so much and yet wish to avoid it with just as much fervency? Thank the gods I had something to bring him — the news that Ido still survived.

  After the moment passed, I waded over and caught Madina’s steadying hand. With a strong pull, she had me up the steps and quickly wrapped in the rough cloth.

  “His Majesty is not yet out of his own bath,” she reassured me. “You have time to prepare yourself. Properly.”

  I caught her keen sideways glance. It was not unkind, but I felt myself flush. No doubt her husband had told her about discovering us. The man probably thought I had lied to him about my bond with Kygo.

  “Viktor’s wife is much your size and has supplied her best gown,” she added, drying the length of my wet hair. “It is only cotton, my lady, but the weave is fine and it should fit well. The color will suit you, too.”

  I stopped wiping my arms. “You think it will suit me? What color is it?”

  “Blue, my lady.” She nodded at a gown hanging from a peg driven into the cave wall. It was indeed a rich indigo.

  “Why will that suit me?” I had never given much thought to the color of my clothes. Then again, I had never been the one to choose them, even when I became Dragoneye.

  “I am sure you look beautiful in all colors,” she said, bowing.

  “No,” I said, stopping her obeisance with a hand on her arm. “No, I mean it. Why does blue suit me? I do not know about these things.” I had spent too many years as a boy to know anything of female arts.

  She searched my face. I had done the same myself when asked by a higher rank for an honest opinion; not all such requests were sincere, and the truth often brought a swift slap. “Because you have pale skin, my lady,” she finally said. “The contrast will work well. And the shade will enhance the deep red in your lips and the brightness of your eyes.”

  I studied the gown again; all of that from just one color? I traced my top lip with my finger, the soft pressure conjuring the sensation of Kygo’s mouth on mine. He had been surrounded by beautiful things all his life — clothes, art, women. He would understand the language of color and cloth.

  “All right,” I said slowly. “I’ll wear it.” Then I remembered the problem with Vida’s gown. “Wait! Is it very low cut?”

  “Only sufficiently so,” Madina said, a smile at the edge of her eyes.

  I did not have enough lightness in me to laugh, but I did manage a wry lift of my lips. “I am not very good with all of this,” I said gesturing at the gown. “I have no knowledge of beauty or style.” I looked down at my narrow chest. “Nor any pretensions of either.”

  “That is not true, my lady,” she said. “It is said there are four seats of beauty.” She touched her hair, her eyes, her mouth, and her throat. “All of us have at least one. Many of us have two. Some have three, and only a handful have all four in true harmony. You, my lady, are blessed with three.”

  Which three did she mean? My eyes, perhaps, and my mouth — I had all my teeth. But I could see no elegance of throat, and my hair was too thick and heavy.

  I snorted. “I am no beauty.”

  She tilted her head, but did not voice what was behind her pursed lips.

  “What? Speak your mind,” I prompted.

  “It is true that you do not have classic beauty, and yet you draw the eye. You have felt the power of it, yes?”

  I felt my skin flush again, but this time with acknowledgment. I had seen Kygo’s gaze follow me, and I had sensed my strange hold on him within it.

  Madina patted her dark hair, the intricate braids and twists streaked with gray. “But I think what burns at your core is another kind of power, my lady.”

  I looked away. Could she see my desire for Kygo? No, it was impossible. Perhaps she referred to the red dragon. “What power is that?”

  “Fearlessness.”

  I frowned. Fearlessness wasn’t a power, was it? And I had certainly known fear.

  She wrapped my hair in the towel again and squeezed water from its length.

  “We could braid your hair into a low coil.” She wound a thick tress around her finger and pressed it against my nape. “It will suit the neckline of the gown.”

  I was tempted to take advantage of
Madina’s arts, but I could not walk into a military meeting wearing both a gown and a maiden’s braid. It was hard enough to be a female Dragoneye, let alone a female Naiso. In all truth, I knew I should reject the dress in favor of a tunic and trousers, but a smooth-tongued part of me insisted it would be churlish to refuse a gift from the wife of the camp leader.

  “I will wear a Dragoneye double queue,” I said, pleased with the compromise. I separated the heavy weight of my wet hair into two hanks. “I will show you how to club it.”

  Madina bowed. “As you wish, Lady Dragoneye.”

  The sky was streaked with pink dawn light as I climbed a set of shallow steps with two resistance escorts. According to the more talkative of the pair, the small cave ahead had been readied as a strategy room for the emperor. The word had gone out, he said, for the section leaders to gather there at daybreak. Below us, the camp was already stirring. Children carried buckets of water from the stream that crossed the floor of the crater, and women stoked cooking fires. A group of men headed toward the passage we had entered less than four bells ago, their ropes and packs marking them as a search party.

  A familiar figure came out to meet us: Ryko, his big body hunched, arms cradling his ribcage. He watched our approach without expression, but I knew the islander well enough to see the tension within him.

  “I will take Lady Eona to His Majesty,” he said to my escort.

  The two men quickly bowed and backed away. Ryko waited until they were out of earshot, then he bent close and said, “You must intercede on my behalf. Now.”

  I pulled away, startled by the fury in his voice.

  “About what?”

  “His Majesty has forbidden me to join the search parties.”

  “He must have a good reason.”

  “I do not care about his reasons,” Ryko snapped. “I have to search for Lady Dela. Do you understand?”

  “Ryko, you’re injured. And you don’t know the area. You’ll just slow the local men down.”

  He glared at me. “Intercede. You owe me.”

  “What do I owe you?” I said, my own anger rising. How many times did I have to apologize? “Did you want to die? Should I have left you at the fisher village?”

  “Yes,” he hissed. “It would have had more honor than living like a dog, waiting for your next kick.”

  His truth hung between us, heavy and impassable.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep, pained breath. “My lady, please.” His touch on my shoulder was a plea. “I had her hand in mine and I let go. The water was too strong. She will think I abandoned her.”

  I looked away from the anguish in Ryko’s face. I felt guilt every day, thirty-six times over. Perhaps I could spare him the guilt of failing Dela.

  “All right,” I said. “I will ask him.”

  I heard Kygo’s voice before we reached the strategy chamber. The cave was made up of three small, linked caverns, and Ryko and I were passing through the second when the emperor’s clear tones reached us.

  “Is this a total of our numbers, Viktor? There are no others?”

  My heartbeat quickened. For all of my reliving of our kiss and imaginings of his body against mine, I had not considered what might happen the next time I saw him. Would there still be the same heat in his eyes? Should I act as if nothing had happened? We were obviously not going to be alone. A blessing, perhaps, although something akin to disappointment settled deep within me as well.

  I smoothed the front of the gown over my chest. As Madina had said, it was not as low-cut as Vida’s dress. Still, its round neckline showed the curve of my breasts, and the clinging waist needed no sash to accentuate my shape. My hands found the tightly clubbed braids that swung from the topknot at my crown. I flicked the two thick braids to the left, but decided it would look contrived and pushed them to the back again. Madina had said the manly style looked well on me, but there had been no mirror, and the reflection in the cave pool was too dark for detail.

  “My lady, please wait,” Ryko whispered.

  He stepped up to the natural archway that defined the entrance to the third chamber. The first two caverns had been extravagantly lit by oil lamps set only an arm’s width apart — but their glow paled in comparison to what came from the strategy chamber. It was almost like daylight.

  “Lady Eona — Imperial Naiso and Mirror Dragoneye— approaches,” Ryko called.

  For a moment, his formal announcement held me still. It belonged to the court, not here, in a cave. Ryko was pressing home my rank.

  As I entered, five men turned from their examination of a scroll spread across a table — Yuso and Viktor among them— and dropped to their knees in low bows. The sixth man remained bent over the scroll: the emperor.

  He had bathed and shaved, although he had left the dark stubble on his head. The long imperial queue had also been washed and re-clubbed, but without the jewels and gold thread strung through it. No doubt they would soon be our army’s food and weapons. His only jewel now was the Imperial Pearl, framed by the open collar of his borrowed red tunic: a very visible symbol of his right to command.

  His skin still held the pallor of the shadow world, and his body had the careful bearing of pain, but overall he had recovered well. Slowly, he looked up, and my breath locked in my chest. His dark eyes held no warmth, only wariness.

  “Do you no longer bow to your emperor, Lady Eona?” he asked.

  I dropped into my own obeisance, hiding my confusion. Had I done something wrong? I stared fiercely at the woven rug on the cave floor, willing back the sharp sting of tears. There could be only one reason for his coldness. My passion had disgusted him.

  “Rise,” he said to us all.

  I climbed to my feet, hoping the flush had faded from my face. The bank of oil lamps around the walls made the room airless, or perhaps it was my own shame that choked my breath. I pressed my hand against my chest, covering the pale skin above the deep blue cloth.

  Ryko edged into the periphery of my vision — a silent reminder. I did not want to step forward, but I had promised.

  “Your Majesty,” I said, trying to add some steel to my voice. “Ryko wishes to join a search party and be of use. May he have your leave to do so?”

  I was not ready to meet the ice in Kygo’s eyes again. I settled for watching his mouth. All of its tenderness had tightened into a hard line of command.

  “No. I have use for him here.”

  I bowed, Ryko dropping into his own obeisance beside me, only his clenched hands giving away his frustration.

  “Lady Eona, come forward,” Kygo said.

  Stiffly, I moved a step toward him.

  “We are discussing the black folio,” he said. “Yuso says you claim that Dillon used its power to create the ring of water.”

  I glanced around the circle of men. Every face held some recognition of the tension between the emperor and me. Yuso’s eyes met mine, wary.

  “Yes, Your Majesty. Dillon called on the folio’s Gan Hua.”

  “How does he call it? He has as little training as you.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can he do it again?”

  I lowered my head at his clipped assault. “I don’t think so.” I swallowed, trying to find some moisture in my parched mouth. “I think he would need my power again to use it, but I am not sure, Your Majesty. The black folio is a mystery to me, too.”

  “So it was your power as well?”

  “Dillon took it. I did not give it, Your Majesty.”

  “And this black folio has the secret to the String of Pearls?”

  “It is what Lord Ido told me.”

  “Lord Ido.” Kygo’s snort of suspicion sent a chill through me. “You are very keen to rescue him.”

  I lifted my head, meeting his challenge. “You know why, Your Majesty.”

  His dark eyes held no concession. “My priority has changed.

  We must find the black folio before my uncle does. Lord Ido can wait.”

  I stepped
forward. “No, he cannot! He is barely hanging on to life.”

  Kygo stiffened. “What did you say?”

  Panic had pushed me too far. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. It is true we must find the black folio,” I said, recovering some control. “But getting Lord Ido away from your uncle is, in my humble opinion, more important. Dillon is not in his right mind and, even if we find him, he will not be of any help with the monsoon rains and floods. He has no control over his power or his actions. As you have already seen, he is dangerous.” I glanced around the tense circle of men. “Ido helped me hold off Dillon and the black folio’s power. We need him.”

  Kygo leaned on the table. “Ido helped you? Why?”

  “He was trying to save his own life as much as help me,” I said. “Dillon was trying to kill him.”

  “How did he help you?”

  “It is through the same kind of link I have with Ryko. The one made from healing. You saw it in the clearing when I could not control the energy.” Beside me, Ryko flinched as if I had touched him with a whip.

  “Did Ido come to you, or did you make him?” There was something strange in Kygo’s tone — anticipation. But reluctance, too.

  I stared at him, puzzled. “He just came into my head.” I paused, realizing I did not truly know how it happened. “Maybe I called him,” I added. “I don’t know; it was all too fast. I don’t know enough about the way it all works. It is why I need Lord Ido to train me.”

  Kygo turned his back. “I wish to speak to Lady Eona.” He did not raise his voice, but I could feel the threat. “Ryko, Yuso, stay. The rest of you, leave us. Leave the cave.”

  The other men could not bow and back away fast enough. As the sounds of their exit receded into the distance, I looked across at Ryko, but the islander was staring at the ground, his body tense. Yuso stood stolidly at the table, his attention fixed on his emperor.

  “Tell me, Ryko,” Kygo finally said, his back still to us, “did you feel Lady Eona’s link with Ido as they fought the black folio?”

  Ryko shifted. “Yes.” He looked away from my shock. “The link held no sway over my will, but I felt it. As I said before, Your Majesty.”