Eona: The Last Dragoneye

CHAPTER NINE

YUSO’S GRIP TIGHTENED his body locking mine against the trunk, as we plowed relentlessly toward the ridge of the slope. The flood had leveled everything, churning the earth into a thick mud that gushed over the edge.

“We’re going over!” Yuso yelled. “Don’t let go.”

We sheared the tops of scrubby bushes and a bank of foul debris. For a moment the drop hung before us, its base obscured by a cascade of muck — and then we plunged over, heavy mud raining down on us as we rode the sliding, falling earth into the gully below.

Screaming, I felt my hold slip on the slimy bark. All I could taste and smell was dirt. Yuso’s body lifted from mine. I slid forward, groping frantically for a secure hold. Then his strong arms pulled me free and we were falling together, his yell loud in my ear.

We hit, the impact jarring us apart. Blindly, I rolled and rolled, my gown wrapping my legs in a sticky weight. I slammed against something hard. The brutal stop sent a shock of bruising pain through my back. Around me was the sound of loud slapping, and my own hard breathing. I spat out dirt and wiped my eyes, blinking the world back into bleary focus.

A nearby mound of mud resolved into the shape of a dead horse. Next to it was a drowned soldier, still holding his Ji in a death-grip. I sat up — too fast, my head spinning — and backed away from their glassy stares. Cold mud oozed through my toes. I had lost both sandals.

“Lady Eona? Are you all right?”

Yuso’s voice. I jerked around. He was only a few lengths away, buried up to his chest in a deep pocket of sludge. Only one arm was free, held awkwardly in the air. Behind him, mud rained down over the ridge: the source of the slapping sound. It was getting faster and heavier.

I started toward him. “Are you hurt?”

“Stop! I don’t know the size of this hole.”

“Are you hurt? Can you get out?”

He had to get out — I didn’t want to be alone in the middle of all this destruction. For all I knew, Yuso was the only other survivor. I briefly wished it had been Ryko who had saved me. Was the islander even alive?

I fought back a rise of panic. Was Kygo alive? Dela? I did not even know if Ido had survived Dillon’s drain of his power. Although he must have — otherwise, the ten bereft dragons would surely have torn me apart.

“I’m not hurt, but every time I move, I sink,” Yuso said. “And there’s nothing to pull myself out with.”

I took another step.

“No, don’t!” The force of his cry drove him farther into the sucking mud.

I tensed, holding my breath as the level settled under his armpits. “All right, I won’t come any closer. But we’ve got to find a way to get you out. The ridge is going to come down”—I glanced up at the steady fall of mud—”on top of you.”

Very slowly, he shifted his head back to look, then gave a low, desperate laugh. “Don’t suppose you could hold it back with some of that power I just saw?”

“It wasn’t mine,” I said, scanning the devastated landscape for something to throw to him. Everything was camouflaged by a thick layer of brown slime. My eyes skipped over the dead horse and soldier, then flicked back. The Ji.

“You mean it was all the boy’s power?” Yuso was talking softly but rapidly, holding back fear with words.

“No, it was the black book,” I said. “It bound us together.”

I felt an echo of the book’s burning power in my mind. Without Kinra, I would not have survived its onslaught. My breath caught; did I still have her plaque? I plunged my hand into the slimy pocket of my gown. The pouch was there, still safe.

Gingerly, I edged across the mud to the dead soldier, testing each oozing foothold. What if he wasn’t quite dead? What if he had become one of the Halbo, a demon spirit of the drowned? I lowered myself into a wary crouch beside the body, but it did not move or clack its teeth.

“So the binding is true, then.” Yuso’s voice abruptly stopped. I spun on my heel, terrified he had gone under, but his head and shoulders were still clear. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

“I’m getting this Ji to pull you out.”

“No, it’s too dangerous. Leave me. There’s time for you to climb to safety.”

I wrapped my hand around the handle and yanked it free from the soldier’s grip. The man’s hand lifted and slapped back down, as if he were blessing me. Shuddering, I whispered a quick call to Shola on his behalf, then carefully retraced my own safe footprints back to Yuso.

The captain was watching me, anguish written in deep creases of mud on his thin face. Hurriedly, I extended the pole across the mire until the handle hovered near him.

“Grab it. Quickly.”

I glanced up at the slopping mud fall behind him. It was flowing into the hole, raising the level.

He caught the wavering wood. “I will be too heavy for you.”

“I am strong,” I assured him, although the same doubt had blown its cold breath on me. He was lean for a Shadow Man— the Sun Drug issued to the eunuch guards usually built more bulk — but he was still tall and well muscled. “Don’t worry,” I added. “I won’t leave you.”

He flinched as a heavy branch fell beside him, splattering his face with more mud. I tested the ground with my toes and found a section that was not too soft. Working my heels into it, I wiped a length of the pole clean.

“Ready?” I asked.

He nodded.

Taking a resolute breath, I hauled on his weight at the end of the long pole, careful to keep the hooked blade away from me. I felt a small shift. I heaved again, and again, inching backward through the stiff mud. Suddenly his other arm swung free, dripping with sludge. He grabbed the pole with both hands.

“Keep going,” he urged.

I dug my heels into the mud again and pulled as he pains- takingly lifted one hand and placed it above the other on the pole. Panting, Yuso smiled across at me. I smiled back — it was working. On his nod, I heaved again as he dragged himself along another hand-length. Every muscle in my arms and back burned with the strain of holding his weight, but his chest was almost out of the hole.

He lifted his hand again, but this time tried to reach too far. His grip slipped. The sudden loss of his weight on the pole yanked me to my knees. I saw him slide backward, groping wildly for purchase. Instinctively, I braced knees and toes in the mud and anchored the Ji. His hand connected and gripped.

“Got it?” I gasped.

“Yes.” He pressed his forehead into the crook of his arm, gulping deep breaths. “How’s that ridge holding?” he finally asked.

“Not that good,” I said. “Ready?”

He lifted his head. “Lady Eona, I cannot—” He stopped, his eyes bleak. “I have a son. His name is Maylon. Find him, tell him—”

“Yuso.” I caught his gaze, holding him steady, although my own doubt pounded through me. “I’m not leaving until you’re out of there.”

With a nod, he clenched his teeth and once again started the laborious hand-by-hand crawl up the pole. I heaved back on his weight over and over, finding a rhythm in between each desperate handhold that gave him precious impetus. Gradually, his chest and waist emerged. When his hips finally breached the sucking mud, I dropped the Ji and slithered toward him on hands and knees. Grabbing his outstretched hands, I pulled him free. In a clumsy mix of sliding, dragging, and crawling, we made our way back to secure ground.

Yuso turned to study the ridge, then gave a soft grunt of relief. “It is still holding, but we should get out of here.” He stood up and tested his right leg. A large tear in the thigh of his mudsoaked trousers was dark with blood.

“Is it bad?” I asked.

He dismissed it with a shake of his head. “I can walk.” He offered me his hand and pulled me upright. My own legs were trembling with the afterwash of effort. And fear.

“Did you see what happened to the emperor?” I asked, as he ushered me forward. “Or any of the others?”

Yuso shook his head.

“What if …?” I couldn’t voice the possibility.

“If His Majesty is dead, then it is all over,” Yuso said flatly. He picked up the Ji. “There is no reason for a resistance.”

“But Sethon can’t be emperor. He will destroy the thousand years of peace.”

“Whatever way it goes, the thousand years of peace are over,” Yuso said.

Using the blade at the end of the pike to test the ground, he limped toward the horse and soldier. I wanted to deny his bleak assessment, but the ache in my chest knew he was right. I followed his footprints across the firmer mud.

“Did you say you have a son, captain?” I asked, trying to focus on something other than our tortuously slow progress through the sludge.

He turned, his eyes narrowed. “It would be better for both of us if you forgot I said that.”

“Why?”

“It is forbidden — on pain of death — for an Imperial Guard to have family ties.” He held my gaze. “Do you understand? No one else must know of my son.”

I nodded. “I swear on my dragon I will not tell anyone. But how did you become a father?”

Yuso turned back to navigating the treacherous ground. “I was not born a eunuch, my lady.” He stopped in front of the dead soldier and peered into the man’s slack face. “I sired my son before I was cut. I was very young.”

A few limped steps took him to the horse. He bent and stroked the animal’s mud-caked neck. “One of our mares, poor girl.” He looked up at the ridge, gauging its stability, then unbuckled the saddlebag and heaved it free. “His mother died when he was born — may she walk in heaven’s glory — so he is my only family.”

“He must be very precious to you.”

“He is now a lieutenant in Sethon’s army.”

I looked down at the soldier, my spine prickling. “Is he stationed in this area?”

Yuso dug the Ji into the mud.

“I don’t know where he is,” he said. He slung the saddlebag over his shoulder. “That is what this war will be: father against son, brother against brother.” He scanned the stark landscape, then pointed east and beckoned me onward. “It is our duty to restore peace as soon as possible at whatever cost — otherwise there will be no land to rule.” He glanced back, his lean face grim. “You will come to know that, my lady, and I am sorry for it.”

We were climbing the other side of the gully when the ridge came down.

It dropped in a crashing roar, the terrible sound bouncing off the rock faces around us in a rolling echo. We both stopped and watched the deadly churn of mud and debris slide across the valley below us. It smothered everything in its path and sent the stink of wet earth and decay into the air.

I felt Yuso’s hand grip my shoulder in sympathy. “We can’t go back and look,” he said, answering my unspoken question. “It will be too dangerous — and whatever came down with that is already dead.”

“We survived,” I said mutinously.

“Let’s keep doing so,” he said, his grip shifting from compassion to command.

Just before nightfall, Yuso grabbed my shoulder again.

“Stop!” he whispered, the word barely audible under the screeching night calls of roosting birds.

My last reserves of energy coiled into tense readiness. I scanned the spindly trees and tall bushes around us — all threatening in the half-light — and hooked my hand more securely around the saddlebag. It was not much of a weapon, but it could catch the end of a soldier’s Ji.

As if formed from dusk shadows, the shapes of six men stepped from the dark undergrowth. Silently, they circled us, a mix of swords and axes raised. Yuso’s hand slid down the Ji, ready to thrust.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

A thin man with straggly, unbound hair shook his head. “Six against two.” His voice had a soft mountain accent. “I think the question is: Who are you?”

“Captain Yuso, of the imperial guard.”

His name sent a ripple of excitement around the circle of men. I felt their attention shift to me. I gripped the saddlebag even tighter.

“Are you Lady Eona?” the thin man asked.

“Yes.”

“Thank the gods you are alive.” His teeth showed in a quick, relieved smile. The weapons around us lowered. “We are from the Chikara Mountain Resistance. I am Caido. It is an honor to be the ones to find you, Lady Dragoneye.”

He bowed, the other five following his lead in a ragged wave.

“Thank you,” I said, swaying from the sudden release of tension. “Have you found the emperor?”

“Yes. He is alive, but deep in the shadow world. When we were last at our base, he had still not roused. We need to get you back there as fast as possible.”

My gut clenched. At least he lived. “And the others, are they all right?”

“Ryko has minor injuries. As does the woman, Vida. The young guard has—”

“Tiron,” Yuso interjected.

“Yes, sir, Tiron,” Caido said. “He’s broken a lot of bones and may not walk again. We have not found the other three of your party.”

Dela, Dillon, Solly — missing.

“So the boy has not been found?” Yuso demanded. “The one they call Dillon?”

“No, sir. Not yet.”

“He must be your priority now,” Yuso said. “He holds something vital to His Majesty’s cause.”

“We can only search with the light, Captain.” There was a note of defense in Caido’s soft voice. “But we start again tomorrow at dawn. Are either of you hurt?”

“Nothing serious,” Yuso said. “Did Ryko tell you about the troops in pursuit? Twenty-four. A full company.”

Caido nodded. “We’ve accounted for nineteen, sir. Most of them drowned. Our best teams are hunting the last five.”

Yuso nodded, satisfied.

Caido gave another small bow, then turned to his men. A quick series of hand signals sent them into a diamond formation around us, except for one very large man, who stood stolidly behind Caido.

“My lady, we need to move fast,” Caido said. “Would you allow Shiri to carry you on his back?” The large man dipped his head.

Although my weariness was like a hundredweight hanging on each limb, I drew myself up. “I will not fall behind, Caido.”

“No, my lady,” he said, and bowed.

He waved us forward.

An hour later, I was perched on Shiri’s back. The man smelled of old sweat, greasy hair, and sour spillings, but I did not care. His back was broad, his arms were hooked securely around me, and I could finally rest my exhausted body. I tried to stay awake as we climbed through the last of the scrubby terrain into a thicker growth of forest, but the rocking motion of Shiri’s long stride lulled me. As I slipped into the shadows of uneasy sleep, I once again felt the intent hold of Kygo’s eyes as he brushed my cheek, and the strange heat of the pearl beneath my fingers.

“My lady?” A firm shake on my arm woke me. I squinted. The half-moon night had reduced Caido’s face to a series of sharp planes. “You must walk the last section,” he said quietly. “Only one person can pass through this entrance at a time.”

Shiri released his hold and lowered me gently to the rocky ground. The forest was now well below us.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

The big man dipped into a bow. “My honor, Lady Eona,” he said, backing away. “My honor.”

“He will tell his grandchildren about the time he carried the Mirror Dragoneye,” Yuso said, close to my ear.

“How long did I sleep?” I stared up at an immense moon- silvered cliff that rose before us. Were we going to climb it? Even after my rest on Shiri’s back, I doubted I would make it.

“We’ve been walking for about four bells,” Yuso said, every step of them in his rough voice.

Caido pointed up to a dark crack in the rock face. “We are nearly there,” he said. “That is the way into our camp.”

As we drew nearer to the cliff, the dark crack became a fissure large enough for a man the size of Shiri. With a reassuring smile, Caido slipped into it. I followed him, the warm night air instantly cooling as I stepped into a narrow stone passage. A slit of sky was still visible above us, although very little moonlight made it to where we stood.

“My lady, please hold on to my shoulder,” Caido said. “It will be safer and quicker.”

We shuffled in a hand-to-shoulder line as Caido called the news of our rescue to watchmen stationed on high ledges. I caught sight of two guards craning over to catch a glimpse of us as we passed, the tips of their mechanical bows outlined in the dim light. It would be a deadly trap for an approaching enemy.

“This is one of four passages into the crater,” Caido said. “Of course, it is not the most accessible, but it was the closest and will give you a good view of our camp.” His voice was quick with pride.

Ahead, I could see the other end, gray with light. Kygo was somewhere in this camp, hurt. And Ryko and Vida. My toes clipped Caido’s heels. I stumbled.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Caido said. “Are you all right?”

“I am just eager to see His Majesty,” I said.

The end of the passage was twice the size of its entrance, the night sky visible through the wide opening. Two silhouetted figures moved into view, the moonlight catching a flash of silver hair on the taller of them. I hoped they were there to take us straight to the emperor.

“My lady, after you,” Caido said.

As I stepped out onto a broad natural ledge of stone, the silver-haired man moved forward, but my attention was caught by the sight below me — a huge bowl of a crater, its floor studded with flickers of firelight that cast a glow on multitudes of tents and rough-builds. Along the steep sides, more campfires lit the shapes of caves. Gathered below the ledge were the shifting figures of hundreds and hundreds of people watching our arrival. I had not given much thought to what the resistance would look like, but I knew that I had not expected such a large camp.

“Lady Eona?” the silver-haired man said, in obviously a second or third attempt.

“I am sorry. It is so …” I finally looked at him and faltered. The gray in his hair was not from age; he could be no more than twenty-five. Perhaps it was from the burden of command or the effect of some great tragedy. There was certainly a hint of melancholy in his intelligent face.

He smiled. “Yes, it is breathtaking. A natural fortress.” He bowed. “I am Viktor, leader of the Chikara Mountain Resistance.” He gestured to his companion. “This is my lieutenant, Sanni. We are relieved to have found you, my lady. And you, Captain Yuso.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Where is His Majesty?”

“In our main cave, my lady. The Beseechers have been praying since he arrived, but we have been waiting for your arrival to physick him.”

“Waiting for me?” Ryko must have told them about the fisher village. Guilt and shame prickled across my scalp. They were waiting for me, the mighty Dragoneye, to heal the emperor. But I could not risk it again; I did not want to kill any more innocent people. And I certainly did not want power over the emperor’s will.

“I cannot heal him,” I said. “You must understand; I cannot heal him.”

“No, of course not, my lady. We do not expect you to have a physician’s skill,” Viktor said, frowning. “The girl Vida told us that you are now His Majesty’s Naiso. Is that not true?”

“Yes, it is true.”

“Then you are the only one who can touch his sacred body. Our physician must work through you.”

I bit my lip. They only wanted me to help examine him. I could do that.

“Let us go to him, then,” I said.

Viktor ushered me toward steps cut into the steep slope. “My men have already trespassed upon His Majesty’s sanctity by carrying him back here. They are good, dutiful men, my lady, and their deaths would serve no purpose. I beg you to pardon them.”

His words sent a twinge of unease through me. The rank of Naiso brought unexpected responsibilities. “They are pardoned,” I said quickly.

He ducked his head. “Thank you, my lady.”

Every part of me wanted to run to the cave and help Kygo, but the press of cheering people that lined the pathway around the crater limited us to a quick walk. At first I moved away from the excited, wondering faces and the hands that reached out to touch me. They had never seen a Dragoneye in the flesh, let alone a female Dragoneye. Yuso tried to insert his body between me and their reaching need, his rough warnings lost in the chant of my name. Then a deep voice rose above the others. “Let the gods protect Lady Eona. Let the gods protect His Majesty.” I found the caller across the sea of heads — a middleaged man with tears in his eyes — and I finally understood.

I was their symbol of hope, their guarantee that the gods had not abandoned them. Although I was not worthy of such reverence or faith, I had to be what they needed. “Stand back,” I told Yuso. Reluctantly, he stepped behind me. I straightened my shoulders and walked on, brushing my fingers across the hands that strained to touch hope and salvation.

We finally reached the main cave. An altar had been built to one side, and two Beseechers kneeled before it, their swinging lanterns throwing patterns on the dark rock face. Two large brass incense burners stood like sentinels on either side of the entrance, their wisps of white smoke spreading the peppery cleanse of clove through the air. The cheers and calls quieted as we passed the altar. I caught sight of a circlet of bloodstones arranged in front of the prayer candles, and a ceremonial sword. The shrine was in honor of Bross, the god of battle. A good choice. As we entered the cave, I sent my own silent plea to the war god for Kygo’s recovery.

I paused for a moment, trying to take in the size of the cavern. It was at least as big as a large hall, but the true dimensions were lost in the dim light, the high, shadowy ceiling, and the sheer number of people milling around. The murmur of anxious voices echoed around the stone walls. Only one area was clear — a far corner partitioned off by a large, five-paneled screen. It was painted in the beautiful Shoko style — Blossom Women on a rich gold background — but large sections had peeled away, and one panel was split. Its ruined opulence was out of place among the plain wooden benches and tables that lined the cave walls. Even without the two guards that stood before it, I would have known that the screen hid the emperor from view. It was a poor people’s offering to their stricken king.

“My lady! Captain Yuso!” I turned to see Vida break away from a group of people clustered around a large brazier. She was clean and clothed in a fresh gown, the long scratches on her face the only outward sign of our ordeal. “Are you all right?” she asked me, bowing low. “I am so glad to see you.”

I caught her hand, the warmth in her voice bringing a sting of tears to my eyes. Behind her, Ryko rose slowly from a bench along the wall. He was also clean and clothed, but he held his body as if nursing broken ribs. Our eyes met just before he bowed. His pain went much deeper than bones and blood.

Vida’s grip tightened. “Have they told you?”

I nodded.

“His Majesty has still not woken?” Yuso asked.

“No,” she said. “And Solly and Lady Dela have not been found. There was so much water, so much mud—”

“It’s all right,” I said, although it was not. “How is Tiron?”

A shadow passed across her face. “In much pain, but he is being well looked after.”

“My lady, this way.” Viktor gestured urgently toward the screen.

I squeezed Vida’s hand. “Yuso is injured,” I said, waving away the captain’s protest. “Look to him. We will speak later.”

I crossed the cave with the resistance leader. Groups of people shifted out of our way to create a pathway to the screen. Soft blessings followed us as we passed, but dread settled over me. I looked down at my hands, suddenly aware that I was grinding my fist into my palm.

The guards saluted as we paused at the edge of the first panel.

“The physician is waiting for you at His Majesty’s bedside, Lady Eona,” Viktor said. “He has been with him for over seven bells. I will stay here and await his report.”

With both fists clenched, I rounded the screen.

An older man slumped on a stool beside a raised pallet immediately looked up. Under his flat physician’s cap, his expression shifted from weariness to relief. “Lady Dragoneye?”

He bowed, but all of my attention was on the still shape beneath the blanket. Although Kygo’s face was smeared with mud, I could see the stark pallor of his skin. His eyes were closed, but there were no flutterings of dream or nightmare. At some point he had bitten through his lower lip; the swelling was still high. The blanket was pulled up around his neck — I could not see any part of the Imperial Pearl or its stitching— but the edge of a dark bruise extended from his jaw line under the woven blanket edge. The rise and fall of his chest was smooth and regular, yet I could not look away from one breath to the next.

The sharp hiss of water on coals broke my stare.

The physician stood over a large brazier, swirling liquid in a pan. “Shall we proceed, my lady?” he said, fresh energy in his voice.

“How is he?”

“From observation, I would say his Hua is keeping him from returning from the shadow world until he has sufficient strength.” He set the pan on the brazier and joined me beside the pallet. “I have never attended anyone of royal blood before, my lady. Nor have I ever examined a patient without touching him.”

“And I have never been a physician’s instrument before,” I said, meeting his anxious smile with my own. “How should we start?’

“I am of the Meridian school, my lady.” Seeing my obvious ignorance, he added, “My diagnosis is through the pulse and the energy lines. Do you know if His Majesty leads with the sun side or the moon side?”

I tried to picture Kygo fighting; in which hand did he hold his primary sword? Unbidden, the image turned into his right hand softly touching my face. “He is sun,” I said abruptly.

“Of course,” the physician murmured. “The Heavenly Master would naturally be allied with sun energy.” He beckoned me along the side of the pallet. It was stacked on four rougher straw mattresses. “Now, my lady, take his wrist and find his pulse between the tendons.”

I carefully lifted the blanket, exposing Kygo’s muscular abdomen and the lean length of his thigh. Only a scrap of material lay in between. Heat rushed to my face. “He is only wearing undershorts,” I said tightly, focusing fiercely on the cave ceiling. Yet the image of his strong body stayed clear in my vision.

“That is how he arrived,” the physician said. “Either he discarded his clothes to avoid drowning, or the force of the water ripped them from him.” He leaned closer. “Is that bruising? Please let me see his chest and ribs.”

I pulled the blanket down and quickly dropped it over his lower body. Still, I caught sight of the deep line of muscle that distinguished flat belly from hipbone. Such strength. And such frailty.

The physician bent down, studying Kygo’s ribs. The width of his chest was marred by a long gash, and deep blue-black bruising flowered across his right side. My gaze slid over the Imperial Pearl, its glowing beauty like a gentle pressure at the base of my skull.

“My lady, would you please — very gently — press through the swelling to the bones beneath the bruises and tell me what you feel?”

“Won’t that hurt him?”

He looked up at me, surprised. “A good question. Does a patient in the shadow world register pain — or anything else for that matter? It is hotly debated across the schools. Let us say that, if he does feel it, he won’t remember his pique when he awakens.” He smiled, but there was steel beneath it. “My lady, I need to know if his ribs are broken and threaten his breathing.”

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.