Eona: The Last Dragoneye

by Alison Goodman

  “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.”

  “Yuso, draw your sword,” Kygo said.

  The hiss of steel sent a creeping shiver across my back as if it had been drawn against my skin. “Kygo, what is wrong?” I asked.

  He finally turned to me, his face set. “Take Ryko’s will.”

  I heard the islander suck in a breath. For a moment I could not form any sound.

  “Why?” I finally managed.

  “Because it is my command.”

  “You saw what happened last time. I could not control it.”

  “Do as I say. Now!”

  “Kygo, it is too dangerous.”

  He slammed his hand on the table. “I said, take it!”

  “I promised I would not. Please, I don’t want to hurt Ryko.”

  At the corner of my eye I saw Yuso flex his hand around the sword’s hilt.

  “Take it!” Kygo repeated.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Obey me!”

  “No. It is wrong!”

  My shout echoed over and over in the small cavern—a rolling chorus of defiance.

  Kygo gripped the edge of the table. “So stubborn. Why won’t you just do as you’re told?” He nodded at Yuso. “Break Ryko’s shoulder.”

  “What?” I stepped back, as if the command had been a blow to my own body.

  “Take Ryko’s will, or Yuso will break his shoulder.”

  With a deft twist of his sword, Yuso lowered the blade and shifted his grip, changing the heavy hilt into a bludgeon. Ryko stiffened.

  “Yuso, no!” I said.

  “I serve His Majesty,” Yuso warned.

  He walked toward us. Ryko’s eyes fixed on Yuso, but there was no plea in them. Just a hard, endless stare.

  I spun around to Kygo. “He is your man. He is loyal to you.”

  Kygo shook his head. “He is your man, Eona. Take his will.”

  “Why?”

  He looked across at Yuso. “Do it,” he ordered.

  The captain pulled back the hilt, lining up the blow. Beside me, Ryko braced, his breathing quick and hard through clenched teeth.

  “Stop!” I pushed in between them.

  The islander stumbled backward. “My lady, please. No.”

  “I’m sorry, Ryko.” I reached out with my energy, seeking the pathways of his life force. “Forgive me.”

  Beneath the pounding of my heartbeat, I found the frantic rhythm of his fear and fury, and pulled it into my Hua. The sudden brutal link flared through his eyes. He gasped as his will melded to mine, the merciless connection driving him to his knees. I felt the rush of his energy building within me. All of his massive strength was at my command.

  A brutal grip on my arm wrenched me around.

  Kygo.

  I staggered, still caught in the torrent of power. The emperor hauled me upright again and grabbed my jaw, holding me still.

  “Did you heal me?” he demanded. He was so close, I could barely focus. “Did you heal me?”

  The dark fear in his eyes penetrated the rush of power.

  “No!” My connection with Ryko snapped. The brutal release dropped the islander to the floor as I sagged, suddenly drained of energy. “No. I didn’t heal you. I didn’t!”

  Kygo caught me and pulled me against his chest. I felt his heart pounding beneath my cheek, the glow of the Imperial Pearl only a finger’s length away from my eyes. I stared at its pale beauty, the shock of the broken link too strong for the small stirring of desire to touch it.

  Kygo stroked the nape of my neck. “It’s all right,” he murmured against my hair. He looked around at Yuso. “See, she had no hold on me. And I did not feel her control of Ryko,” he said. “Are you satisfied?”

  Yuso sheathed his sword. “As much as I can be, given our lack of knowledge about her power.”

  “Then get out,” Kygo said. “Take Ryko with you. Have the physician attend him.”

  I lifted my head, the sense of Kygo’s words finally penetrating my daze.

  “You did that to see if I healed you?” Another kind of energy burned through me—rage. And it was all my own. I slammed my fist against his chest. “Let me go!”

  He tightened his hold, stopping my escape. “I had to be certain.”

  “You could have asked me!” I punched him again, wanting to hurt him in some way. As he had hurt me. He caught my wrist. This time his touch held no tenderness.

  “Yuso,” he said through his teeth. “Get out. Now!”

  The captain hauled Ryko up onto his feet and steered him out of the cavern. Kygo forced my hand down.

  “Do not hit me again,” he warned. “I am your emperor.”

  “I am your Naiso,” I said. “Or does that mean nothing?”

  “I had to prove that you did not heal me.”

  “How could I have healed you?” I demanded. “I would have destroyed the whole crater, like the fisher village.”

  “I did not witness that, Eona. And all who did are your people,” he said. “I had to prove that my will is still my own.”

  “Why didn’t you just trust me? I would have told you the truth.”

  “It would not have been enough,” he said flatly. “I had to prove it to Yuso.”

  “Why? What is so important about Yuso?”

  “It is his duty to protect me. To protect the throne. He had to make sure I was not compromised.” The somber appeal in his eyes held me still. “This was not just between you and me, Eona. Everything I do has an effect on the empire. It has been so all my life. And now everything you do affects it, too.” He hesitated, then cupped my cheek, the full tenderness of his mouth so near my own. “I know you are new to your power and rank, but you must understand that the empire is more important than a man and a woman. Whatever we may feel or wish.”

  I pulled my face away, gathering my resentment before me like a shield. “That does not excuse cruelty and dishonor,” I said.

  He flinched, and something savage within me rejoiced.

  “You think that was cruel?” He released my wrist and stepped back. “This war with my uncle has just begun, Eona. What I just did was honorable compared to what is coming.”

  “Is that the moral gauge you are going to use for all your actions?” I asked. “It will no doubt bend to your every purpose as easily as green bamboo.”

  He gave a bitter laugh. “Is that my Naiso speaking? Or is it just a woman’s pique sharpening your tongue?”

  “It is obvious that you do not trust me. Perhaps I should not be your Naiso.” My voice cracked. We both knew I was not only speaking of that exalted position.

  “Perhaps you are right,” he said.

  It was my turn to flinch. He walked slowly back to the desk. I watched the unyielding line of his shoulders and back. I had been a fool to let myself believe he valued me.

  “On your honor, promise that you will never heal me,” he finally said.

&n
bsp; “I will do better than my honor, since you hold it in so little regard,” I answered, unable to keep back the acid of my hurt. “I swear it on my life.”

  His hand found the Imperial Pearl at his throat.

  “Eona, I have been trained from birth not to truly trust anyone.” The words were so soft they were barely audible across the distance between us. Perhaps they held the note of apology, but I was not willing to hear it.

  “I do not trust easily, either,” I said. “Especially when I am betrayed.”

  I saw the word bite deep. For a long moment, he did not move.

  “It is a good thing, then, that obedience does not require trust,” he finally said. He leaned over the map, his clenched fist pressed against the parchment. “Tell Viktor and his men to return.”

  I bowed and backed away, holding tight to my anger to stop the tears that stung my eyes.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I STOOD FOR a few moments just inside the entrance of the cave, the soft sleeve of my dress pressed against my wet face, and listened for any sign of pursuit. There was none, of course—an emperor would never follow anyone, let alone a woman. All I could hear was the conversation of the men outside, waiting to be summoned again. I did not want to step out among them, but there was no choice. I straightened my tunic, wiped the blur from my eyes with my forefinger, then strode out into the new daylight.

  “His Majesty commands your return,” I said, moving swiftly past their bowing forms. There was nowhere for me to go, but I did not pause, taking the steps with the pretense of purpose.

  “My lady, please wait.”

  I glanced back. Vida stood on the top step.

  “What is it?” I continued walking.

  She ran up, her overlong gown bunched in her hands. I saw her note my swollen eyes. “Captain Yuso said you needed assistance.”

  That stopped me. “Did he, now?” I looked back at the cave entrance, but all the men had gone inside. “Did he tell you why I needed assistance?”

  “No, my lady.”

  “Because he is a whoreson,” I said, finding some release in the forceful obscenity. Nearby, a woman walking with a child holding each hand stiffened. “He is a whoreson, and his master is a—”

  “Madina has prepared a sleeping chamber for you,” Vida said quickly. “Up in one of the caves. Perhaps you would like to retire?”

  I rubbed my eyes again, feeling the grit of salt on my cheeks. Exhaustion already dragged at my body; the fuel of fury did not last long. I suddenly yearned for solitude. For years I had been among the untouchables, more often than not left on my own with my ill fortune. Now I was never alone.

  My sleeping chamber was, it seemed, someone else’s living quarters hastily surrendered for the use of the Dragoneye. I crossed the patchwork of rugs on the stone floor, barely registering the humble interior.

  “Look at those hangings,” Vida said brightly, following me across the dim cavern. The only light came from the sun streaming through the entrance, half of which was blocked by an ill-fitting wooden door. She reached out and touched a wall tapestry. “Aren’t they lovely, my lady? I’ve never seen work like it.”

  Irritated, I eyed the depiction of a long necked crane snapping at an embroidered fish, the light catching the glow of gold threads. It was not the usual kind of woven hanging. Instead, delicately cutout shapes had been sewn to an undercloth, with fine embroidery worked over them.

  “Beautiful,” I said sourly.

  I did not want to admire art. I wanted to break something or scream or hit someone. No, not just “someone”: Kygo. I ground my hands together, trying to work the impulse out of my joints. Why did he say he trusted me when he obviously did not?

  I spun on my heel and paced across the room again, finally taking in my surroundings. Apart from the rich wall hangings, the furnishings were basic: a low wooden stool, a woven chest for clothes, and two bedrolls—one prepared with blankets, the other tidily tucked away against the wall. A couple’s chamber. The thought brought another spike of fury and sent me back across the room, my fists clenched.

  “My lady, perhaps you should rest,” Vida said. “You look very tired.” She tested the bed’s abundant wadding with her foot. “It’s good and thick,” she added encouragingly.

  I took a steadying breath, the moment of calm bringing bone-aching fatigue in its wake. Perhaps I should lie down. The last time I’d had a chance to sleep properly had been in the forest. I remembered Kygo sitting beside me, his warm hand on my arm. It was where he had asked me to be Naiso. Where I had first touched the pearl. The sting of tears made me blink. Was I really no longer his Naiso? I turned quickly to hide my face and my feelings.

  “All right, I’ll try,” I said, ungraciously. “You can go.”

  She bowed and headed toward the wooden door.

  Wait,” I said. “Will you do something for me?” She paused. “Will you find Ryko and make sure that he is all right? Do not tell him you ask at my bidding.” My voice wavered. “I don’t think you would be welcome if you did.” I could not stop the sob that broke through me. “He will never forgive me now.”

  Vida hurried forward. “Forgive you for what, my lady?” More sobs tore at my chest in thick aching rasps. She took my arm, steering me down on to the bed, and knelt before me. “What happened?”

  Through shuddering breaths I described the events of the morning. I tried to avoid telling her about the kiss, but the rest of the story made no sense until I had confessed that brief moment of desire. At the end of my stumbling recital, she sat back on her heels.

  “Holy Shola,” she said.

  “And now he does not trust me.” I pressed my hands against my eyes to stop another welling of tears.

  “You don’t mean Ryko, do you?” she asked.

  I shook my head.

  She made a soft sound of sympathy. “It always changes when you touch one another.”

  I lowered my hands. “What do you mean?”

  “You two are no longer only Dragoneye and emperor, or even Naiso and emperor. You are also woman and man.” Her smile was wry. “A powerful woman, and a powerful man. It is no wonder you do not trust one another.”

  “I trust him,” I protested.

  “Do you? Truly?”

  I looked away from her searching gaze. The violence of his killing rage, the ambition in his eyes when he’d seen the black folio, his effect on my body—they all frightened me.

  She let out a considering breath. “Watching my father plan and strategize for the resistance has taught me about trust.” She leaned forward. “Personal trust is very different from political trust, my lady. The first thrives on faith. The second requires proof, whether it be upfront or covert.” Awkwardly, she patted my hand. “His Majesty has always been a powerful man. Perhaps he has never had to distinguish between the two.” She rose from the bed. “Take some rest, my lady.”

  “And you will see Ryko?”

  “I will,” she promised.

  “Vida, thank you.” I managed a watery smile. “You are very kind.”

  She cocked her head. “I am not that kind. You and the emperor must come to some kind of understanding. All of our lives depend upon it.”

  With a bow, she maneuvered the door closed behind her, the gaps in the wood letting in enough light to catch the gold and silver gleam of the fish in the wall hangings.

  I stretched out on the bed. Vida’s fine distinctions of trust were a jumble in my head; my mind was too tired to pick through them. The only certainty was that one kiss had snatched Kygo and me from the simpler world of friendship, and we could never go back. Or perhaps it was just I who could not go back. I turned my head, my eyes drawn by the gold of two jumping carp—the traditional symbol of love and harmony. Who was I to think of an emperor in terms of love? I had been a fool.

  But as sleep clouded my thoughts, one last notion flickered across my mind in a leap of red and gold: the carp also symbolized perseverance.

  “Lady Eona, it is time to wake.�
�

  I opened my eyes and blinked into the soft glow of shielded lamplight, the languor of deep sleep still weighting my body. The figure before me came into focus: Madina. She smiled, the lines around her eyes and mouth deepening in well-worn paths. Beyond her, the open doorway was dark.

  “Good evening, my lady.”

  “Have I slept the whole day?”

  I sat up, all my ease ripped away by the sharp-edged memory of Kygo’s distrust. Every bitter word felt as if it had happened only a minute ago.

  “It is just past dusk,” Madina answered. “There is a point when an exhausted body must rest, and you had reached it. My husband did not want you to be woken, even now, but I told him it was time for food.”

  She held out a pottery bowl, a meaty steam fragrancing the air between us. My stomach rumbled loudly.

  “It seems I was right,” she said, her gentle humor easing my embarrassment.

  She placed the bowl in my hands. The first salty sip seemed to reach into every corner of my parched body. I gulped down three large mouthfuls and felt the herbed heat purl through me.

  “That’s very good.”

  She acknowledged the compliment. “My restorative soup. My husband prescribed it for you.” Her graceful wave urged me to lift the bowl again. “You must gather your strength.”

  I looked over the pottery rim. She had something to tell me; the burden of it was in her soft voice. “Is something wrong, Madina?” A knot tightened in my gut, around the warm food. “Is the emperor all right?”

  She patted my hand. “The emperor is well enough, although he ignores my husband’s entreaties to sleep.” She smiled, but I could tell there was more. “Finish the soup, please.”

  I drained the bowl and handed it back, my eyes not leaving her face.

  “What is wrong, Madina?”

  She eyed me as if gauging my fortitude. “Two more of your party have been found,” she finally said. “Dela and Solly. They were brought in while you were asleep.”

  “Are they alive?” I caught her arm. “Tell me. Is Dela alive?”

  “It’s all right, Eona.” Dela’s voice spun me around to face the doorway. “I am here.”

  She limped across the room, the lamplight showing dark scrapes and cuts down one side of her face. I caught her out- stretched hands, squeezing them too tight in place of the words that were locked in my chest.