Eona: The Last Dragoneye

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THROUGHOUT THE NIGHT we crossed the city using a chain of safe houses, staying only a few minutes in some and over a half bell in others to avoid patrols, all of it a blur of dark rooms, shadowy faces, and urgent whispers. Caido and his lieutenant led us from house to house. The rest of his troop were riding across the city in the opposite direction, brave decoys for the inevitable search.

In one house, Vida and I changed into more modest gowns, and I washed the white paint from my face. In another — the stable of a walled family compound — we stayed long enough to eat soup, brought by the sympathizer’s goggle-eyed wife. By that time, Ido and Ryko were in desperate need of food and rest. The compulsion I had forced upon both men had weakened them, and Caido’s relentless pace was beginning to tell on all of us.

The woman left the iron soup pot on the floor and bowed out of the stable, her eyes fixed on Ido. He was slumped against the far wall, as far from the bristling distrust of the others as possible. Instead of the warden’s ill-fitting clothes, he now wore the dun trousers and tunic of a workman, but the trousers were too short, and Dela had ripped out the tunic sleeves to accommodate his shoulders. Perhaps the goggle-eyed wife was not just overwhelmed by his Dragoneye rank.

In the dim light from the courtyard lanterns, Vida stirred the soup, then ladled out two bowls and passed them to me.

“Don’t let him eat too much.” She measured a small amount between thumb and forefinger. “Otherwise he’ll just be sick.”

Ido, it seemed, had fallen into my care. Not through any desire of mine — more from the refusal of the others to interact with him. I did not blame them. Even starved and exhausted, Ido could strike with venom at any time. His insinuation that I had become ruthless, even to my friends, still pricked at me like a burr caught on my spirit.

I carried the bowls and squatted in front of the Dragoneye. His shorn head was tilted back against the rough wood wall, eyes closed against a shaft of moonlight that slanted across his face.

“Soup,” I said.

He flinched. I had obviously pulled him from the cusp of sleep. The broad planes of his face sharpened into fierce hunger. “Food?”

I held up his portion. Eagerly, he cupped his long fingers around the bowl, but his hands shook so much that he couldn’t raise it to his lips. He bent his head and sucked at the liquid.

“Vida says you should eat sparingly, or you’ll bring it back up.”

He grimaced over the rim. “Shouldn’t be a problem. I can’t even get a mouthful.”

“Here, let me hold it.” I reached for the bowl again.

“No.” He clenched his teeth and slowly raised the soup, the liquid slopping onto his fingers. Finally, he took a mouthful and smiled. Genuine pleasure. It was the first time I had seen him without the arrogance that usually hardened his features, and it stripped years from his face. I had always thought of him as being much older than I, yet Momo had said he was only twenty-four, and if I had ever counted the dragon cycles, I would have known his true age. How did someone get so old in his spirit? The easy answers were brutality and ambition. But perhaps it was impossible to know the truth of another person’s spirit.

I thought of the black gap I had seen in Ido’s crown point of power. Surely such a breach in the seat of insight and enlightenment would affect his spirit in some essential way. And his heart point had shrunk again, too. Did that mean he no longer felt the sense of compassion I had forced upon him?

I took a sip of my own soup — the thin taste almost over-powered by the stink of the sleeping pigs penned nearby — and watched Ido eat with the intensity of a starving wolf.

“Do you still feel remorse for all you have done?” I asked. “I know you felt it in the palace alleyway, and compassion, too. But do you still feel it?”

It was probably a foolish question — he had no reason to admit he was once more without conscience, and every reason to assure me that he was a reformed man.

Slowly, he looked up from his food. “After one hour in Sethon’s company, I stopped feeling anything except pain,” he said flatly. “Do not ask me about remorse or compassion. They did not exist in that cell.”

The memory of his brutalized body leaped into my mind. After what he’d suffered, no wonder his heart point had shrunk again. Perhaps Sethon’s cruelty had created the black gap as well. I watched him again over the rim of my bowl. From the slight turn of his body, it was obvious he did not want to talk of his ordeal. For a moment, I was caught between my own compassion and a sense of macabre curiosity.

“When I healed you, I saw a black gap in your crown point,” I finally said. “Do you know what it is?

“A black gap?” He touched the top of his head, his face suddenly strained. “It is most probably payment exacted.” The wry edge in his voice was softened by resignation.

“Payment?”

“You should know by now that there is always some kind of payment for power.” Tiredly, he rubbed his eyes. “I used a lot of power to survive Sethon.”

“What will such a gap do to you?”

“That remains to be seen.” He gave a harsh laugh. “Perhaps I will never achieve spiritual enlightenment.”

“What did Sethon want from you?” I asked.

The sarcastic smile faded. For a moment he toyed with not answering — the reluctance plain in his face — then he said, “The black folio. And you.”

I had thought as much. “Did you tell him anything?”

“I don’t know.” His eyes met mine and I drew back from the cold accusation within them. “When you called your dragon that first time, you not only ripped my heart point open — you blocked me from my power. I was at Sethon’s mercy for three days.” His voice was a hard monotone. “By the third day I didn’t know what I was saying. Maybe I told him. I would have said anything to stop it.”

I took refuge from his blame in a sip of my soup. I didn’t know I had blocked him from his dragon. Fear feathered down my spine. I had left him powerless against Sethon. Just the memory of the man’s cold touch made me feel sick — even with Ido’s injuries still fresh in my mind, my imagination failed at what he must have endured at Sethon’s hands. I steeled myself against the impulse to apologize. It had been Ido’s own ruthless grab for my power that had blocked him from his dragon. And his own treacherous plans for the throne that had enraged Sethon.

“I think it is safe to assume that Sethon knows everything I know about you and the black folio,” he added.

“You know where it is, then?’

“Dillon has it.”

“He survived the flood?” The news brought a confusion of gladness and foreboding.

Ido smiled grimly. “The black folio looks after its own.”

“But if Sethon knows where it is, he will just go and get it.”

Ido shook his head. “Sethon knows where it was. Dillon is long gone.” With a sigh, he put the bowl on the floor. “Your servant is right. I cannot eat any more.”

“She’s not my servant. Vida is a resistance fighter.”

“And what about you, Eona?” he asked. “Do you fight for the Pearl Emperor?”

I paused, sensing a bite in the question that I could not see. “Yes.”

“And will you fight with your power when I teach you how to control it?”

“No, I abide by the Covenant. As does Kygo.”

“‘Kygo,’ is it?” He crossed his arms, the moonlight showing the stark curve of muscle. “You should watch yourself, girl. Just because you are a Dragoneye does not mean you can call an emperor by his first name. Not even a usurped emperor.”

I lifted my chin. “I am his Naiso.”

Ido’s heavy brows met over the high bridge of his nose. I pressed my lips together, half of me enjoying his astonishment, the other half tensing for the inevitable jeer.

“You are his Naiso? His truth bringer?” His shoulders started to shake with silent laughter. “You do not have a truthful bone in your body.”

“Kygo trusts me,” I said, hoping my vehemence would persuade him. And me.

He lowered his voice. “Then tell me, have you told Kygo that royal blood and the black folio can bind a Dragoneye’s will and power?”

I hesitated, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of the answer.

He smiled, his old arrogance lifting one corner of his mouth. “I didn’t think so. You may be misguided, but you are not a fool.”

“I haven’t kept it from him,” I said through my teeth, although I also spoke more softly. A habit: too many years lived with too many secrets. “I just haven’t told him. He would not use it against me.”

Ido gave a snort of derision. “He is royal and he wants the throne. Of course he will use it.” He leaned forward. “Ask yourself why you haven’t told him. It is because deep down you know he is a threat to us.”

In my mind, I once again saw that moment of hard ambition on Kygo’s face as he stared at the black folio on Dillon’s wrist; the book held such tempting riches for us all — the secrets of Gan Hua, the String of Pearls, and even how to stop the ten grieving dragons — but the cost was so high. Insanity and, in the wrong hands, enslavement.

“Kygo is not the threat,” I said. “The threat is Sethon.”

Ido sat back, a small smile playing across his lips. “You lie even to yourself. Now that is the mark of a fool.”

I stood up. “You do not know Kygo,” I said. “And you do not know me.”

I turned and walked the length of the stable, my unease driving me as far from the man as possible. I stopped at the edge of the doorway and gulped at the cleaner air, ignoring the curious glance from Dela, seated on a bale of hay nearby.

As my mind quieted, a sick realization crept through me. Ido was right; I was a fool.

He had just manipulated me into admitting that we were Dragoneye allies against the threat of royal blood.

It was a full bell after dawn before we neared the rendezvous in the hills outside the city. The hot weight of the monsoon was back in the air, its presence like a hand pressing on my chest. Or maybe the tightness across my heart was from the prospect of seeing Kygo again. I circled my fingers around the leather thong tied to my other wrist. The hard lump of the blood ring gave no reassurance. We had been physically apart little more than a day and a night, but I felt as though a chasm had opened up between us. As Xan, the poet of a thousand sighs, once wrote: Too many doubts grow in the cracks of silence and separation.

Caido’s lieutenant was scouting ahead, his forest skills rendering him invisible and silent. In front of me, Ido walked between Yuso and Caido. Although the Dragoneye was stooped with fatigue, he was still a head taller than the two men guarding him, and the overhang of trees forced him to duck under branches.

We were winding our way through dense bushland, Yuso’s eyes sweeping over the ever-changing shift of light and shadow in the tangled undergrowth. Behind me, Dela and Vida helped Ryko, the islander still weak from my use of his Hua. We had only shared one brief exchange of words during our flight from the city. I had tried to apologize — again — but Ryko had caught my arm and, in a hoarse whisper, said, “He was strong. You needed me to quell him. I’m glad you made him suffer.” I nodded, relieved that my friend was talking to me again, but I knew I did not deserve such a generous reading of my actions.

Ahead, the Dragoneye suddenly stopped and stared up at the sky, squinting as if he could see something in the heavy cloud cover. He looked over his shoulder at me with a frown.

“Do you feel it?” he asked.

I glanced up through the branches at the dark, bilious sky. Was he testing me? I paused and considered. “I feel something. It’s thick. More than just monsoon.”

“Good,” Ido said. “From what direction?”

Yuso stepped in closer, his hand on his sword. “Keep moving,” he ordered the Dragoneye.

Ido looked sideways at him. “Keep moving, my lord,” he corrected, his voice cold.

“Just keep moving,” Yuso said. “Or you will feel the hilt of a sword, my lord.”

“Wait, captain. Lord Ido has something I wish to hear.” I turned back to the Dragoneye, ignoring Yuso’s tight-lipped scowl at my defection. “How do I find out what direction it is from?”

“You already know,” Ido said, but his attention was still on Yuso, a sly smile baiting the guard.

“No, I don’t.” Then I realized something was in my mind, colored red with anxiety. I focused on it, trying to catch its sense. Slowly it floated up from its deep mooring. “West. It’s coming from the west.”

“Yes. Well done.” Ido finally pulled his gaze from Yuso and glanced up at the dark collection of clouds again. “West. The wrong direction for this time of year.”

“Wrong direction? What does that mean?” Dela asked behind me.

“It means a cyclone.” His frown deepened.

“Here?” Vida’s horror mirrored my own. “When?”

“Lady Eona, you tell us,” Ido said.

Another test. “How?”

“It is in the Hua of the earth. Sense it.”

I had no idea what he meant. “With my power? But that will bring the dragons.”

“No, just feel it. Like you do when you trace the pathways of your own Hua.”

“Really?” I took a breath, still unsure. I knew the land had inner pathways like our meridians — they were the energy lines that crisscrossed the earth in bright bands. But how was I to sense them without shifting into the celestial plane? All I could feel was the heat on my skin, and the thud of my own heartbeat, and the draw of my breath into my chest, and the soft, soughing breeze across my skin, and the pulse of the insects in my ears and—

“Five days,” I whispered.

Ido smiled. “Five days,” he agreed.

I laughed. “How did I do that?”

He looked at me quizzically. “You are a Dragoneye. It is what we do.”

I grinned, unable to contain my delight. I had listened to the land like a Dragoneye!

Then a sobering thought struck me. “But we can’t stop it, can we?” That was the real work of a Dragoneye.

He looked up at the sky again. “No. You will need training for that. And we will need more power. But at least we can get out of its way.”

Silenced by the news, we started pushing through the undergrowth again. For all the danger of an impending cyclone, I could not help marveling at my new ability to listen to the land. Ido was already unlocking so much in me. I looked at the man’s broad back, trying to divine what was in his serpentine mind. He glanced back as if he had felt my thoughts, and for a heartbeat I was caught in the questioning amber of his eyes. Although there was no slide of silver through them, I still felt the draw of his power. I looked away. Yet from the corner of my sight I saw him smile, and my own lips rose into the ghost of an answer.

Less than a half bell later, Yuso tensed and raised his hand. We stopped, watching the undergrowth.

“Sir!” Caido’s lieutenant edged through a patch of bushes to our right. I would not even have guessed he was there. “They are a hundred lengths or so northeast.”

“Has everything gone according to plan?” Caido asked.

The man nodded. “His Majesty is waiting for us.”

My skin prickled. Kygo was ahead. The news affected Ido, too. He drew back his shoulders as if preparing to face an over-whelming enemy. In a way, he was: Kygo would have little welcome for the man who had helped Sethon slay his family and seize his throne.

I wiped sweat from my hairline. As I drew my hand away, I caught a flash of bright white on my finger: Moon Orchid’s paint. How much was still left on my face? I probably looked like a piebald horse.

“Dela,” I whispered, glancing back at the Contraire. “Have I still got paint on my face?”

With a smile, she studied me, then delicately flicked her thumb under my eye and along the dip of my chin. “It’s all gone.” She cupped my cheek. “Beautiful as ever.”

We passed two sentries — Caido’s men, almost invisible in the undergrowth until they rose and sketched quick bows — and then the bushes and trees opened out into a spread of grassland.

In its center, Kygo stood facing us, two men guarding him, with others spaced around the edge of the clearing. There were new faces among them; no doubt local resistance. Yuso led us forward, and with a lift to my heart, I saw Kygo’s eyes seek me first — a fleeting connection of relief and gladness. Then his attention cut to Ido, his expression hardening. Even I felt chilled by the cold rancor in Kygo’s face, although his stern beauty caught in my chest like a missed heartbeat.

The ground underfoot already held the warmth of the heavy air, the sweet acidic smell of crushed grass rising around us. Kygo had undone the high collar of his tunic, and the milky sheen of the Imperial Pearl was framed against the dark cloth like a royal banner.

A length from him, we stopped. Behind me, Dela and the others dropped to their knees. I lowered myself into my own obeisance, but, beside me, Ido did not move. I looked up, dread creeping across my shoulders. The Dragoneye stood in front of Kygo. The two men watched one another silently. They were almost matched in height, each locked in the other’s stare.

“Bow,” Kygo said.

Ido’s eyes flicked from Kygo to the two guards behind him. “You do not want me to bow.”

What was he doing?

Kygo frowned. “Bow, Lord Ido.”

“No.” I saw the subtle shift of Ido’s feet as he pressed his weight into the ground. He was bracing.

Yuso’s head rose from his kowtow. Ryko’s, too.

“I said, bow!” In an instant, Kygo’s cold control was obliterated by savage fury.

“I will not bow to you, boy.”

I flinched even before I heard the dull crack of Kygo’s fist slamming into Ido’s face. Another blow, in the gut, hammered away Ido’s breath and doubled him over. He fell to his knees beside me, gasping. A vicious kick caught him in the ribs and dropped him into a hunched kowtow. Kygo stood over him, fist still clenched, the intention to keep punishing the Dragoneye in every line of his body.

“Your Majesty,” I half rose from my bow. “Lord Ido is here to train me.”

For a terrible moment, I thought he would just keep kicking.

His eyes — dark with rage and grief — found mine. It was like the village inn again.

“Kygo, he is no use to us dead!”

The killing rage snapped out of his face, although the dark grief stayed within his eyes. With a nod, he stepped back, breathing hard.

Still hunched over, head bowed, Ido looked across at me. Why had he deliberately provoked Kygo? He lifted an eyebrow. But before I could react, he looked back down and spat blood on the ground.

“Lady Eona,” Kygo said. He was forcing calm into his voice. “Rise.”

I stood, reeling from the calculation in Ido’s face.

Kygo took my hand and drew me a few steps away. His knuckles were sticky with blood. “Do you have the same link with him that you have with Ryko?”

We both glanced back at the bowed Dragoneye.

I nodded, unease hollowing my gut. “I think he is provoking you, Kygo.”

“Why would he do that?” His voice still held the sharp edge of violence. “I could have killed him.”

“I don’t know.”

Kygo shook his head. “He has nothing to gain by it. Stand beside me, Naiso.” He turned. “Everyone get up. Get back. Lord Ido, stay on your knees.”

The others scrambled to their feet as ordered, forming a ragged half-circle around the Dragoneye. Among all the hostile anticipation, only Dela’s face was troubled.

“Look at me, Dragoneye,” Kygo ordered.

Ido lifted his head. His top lip was split, bleeding into his mouth and down his chin.

“Where is the black folio? Does Sethon have it?”

Ido’s eyes flicked to mine. See, his expression said, this is all he wants.

I chewed on the inside of my mouth. Of course Kygo wanted the folio — it was logical. We could not afford to have it fall into the hands of Sethon. Yet some deep part of me — the Dragoneye — did not want it in Kygo’s hands, either. But maybe that was just Ido’s mind games playing upon me. I could not think straight.

“The folio is safe from Sethon,” Ido said. “My apprentice has it.”

“Bring it to us.”

Ido shook his head. “No. It is safe. That is enough.”

“I do not ask, Dragoneye. I command.”

“No.”

Yuso stepped forward. “Your Majesty, let me explain obedience to Lord Ido.”

“I understand your enthusiasm, captain,” Kygo said. “But there is no need.” He turned to me. “Force him, Lady Eona. Make him call the boy to us.”

My gut froze. “Your Majesty,” I whispered, turning my head away from the circle of avid faces. “Do not ask me to do that.”

“Why not?”

“You are asking me to torture him.”

He grabbed my arm and pulled me across the clearing. I stumbled after him, his iron grip wrenching me through the thick grass. He stopped and rounded on me. “What are you talking about, Eona? I am only asking what you have done before.”

“I did it before because you threatened Ryko,” I hissed. “I will stop Ido from using his power against us, but I will not use my power for coercion and torture.” I pulled my arm out of his grip. “It should not even be an option. I thought you were better than that.”

“That is a fine line you draw,” he snapped. “Did Ido come willingly with you? Or did you coerce him?”

“I showed him I had the link.”

“So when does it become coercion? When I ask you to do it?”

“Yes!”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t care. I just know that what you ask is wrong. You know it, too.”

He sucked in a breath. “We need the black folio, Eona. Sethon must not get it.”

I pressed my hands to either side of my head. “Kygo, if I force Ido to get the folio, do you think he will train me?” I lowered my voice. “If I am to fulfill the portent and save the dragons, I need Ido’s knowledge.” I touched his arm. “Trust me; we will get the black folio.”

He looked across at the kneeling Dragoneye. Ido had raised his head and was watching us. “Every part of me wants to hurt him,” Kygo said, his voice low.

“I know.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them again, the darkness had receded. He took my hand. “All right, we will do it your way, Naiso.”

I returned the pressure of his fingers. “Thank you.”

Kygo was an enlightened man, his father’s son, yet as he led me back to the silent ring of men and women, Ido’s taunt in the stable echoed in my mind: Why haven’t you told him?

The Dragoneye watched us approach, his jaw set.

“Captain,” Kygo said. Yuso stepped forward. “We stay here for the day and move out tonight. Bind Lord Ido and put a guard on him. Then report.”

His order broke the tension around the ring of onlookers. Bowing, they backed away from the presence of their emperor, heading, no doubt, toward food and sleep. As Dela walked past me, she touched my arm lightly.

“Be careful,” she whispered, and glanced back at the Dragoneye. “He does not have only dragon power.”

“Get up,” Yuso ordered Ido.

With slow insolence, Ido stood and looked at me as Yuso pulled his wrists together and bound them with rope. The steady hold of his eyes sent a wash of hot unease through me.

“I must hear the captain’s report,” Kygo said. He watched dispassionately as Ido was shoved into a stumbling walk between two guards. “But please join me afterward.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” I bowed and backed away as Yuso approached.

I headed toward the clump of trees where food and water were laid out. Although I kept my eyes fixed on the mill of people ahead, I could feel Ido’s gaze upon me like the press of a hand along the length of my spine. Dela was right. I had to be careful.

A quarter bell later, I stood in front of Ido. My excuse was a cup of water and a strip of dried beef for the prisoner. But really, I needed to know why he had provoked Kygo.

The morning sun had broken through the clouds and added a burning heat to the heavy air. Ido was on his knees under its full glare, forced into a punishment kneel that I knew was ironically called the Blessing: back rigid, bound hands held up at chin level. Sweat dripped from under his ragged hair and into his eyes. Although his face was impassive, the strain was evident in the trembling along his arms.

I held out the cup.

Awkwardly, he held up his bound hands and took the water. “This is becoming a habit,” he said.

The guard leaning on a nearby tree trunk straightened. “My lady, Captain Yuso has ordered that Lord Ido does not get food or water until he says so.”

“Apparently I’m learning about obedience,” Ido said, his voice hoarse. “The captain is keen to know the whereabouts of the black folio.”

I glanced at Yuso, still in close conference with Kygo across the clearing. Was this Yuso’s own idea, or was he under orders? The thought was disquieting either way.

“What is your name?” I asked the guard. He was one of Caido’s men; a skilled bowman, if I remembered rightly. He certainly had the shoulders and muscled forearms of an archer.

“Jun, my lady.” He dipped into a bow.

“Jun, do not make the mistake of thinking your captain’s orders outweigh mine. I wish to speak to Lord Ido about Dragoneye business.” I waved the man away. “It is not for your ears.”

With an anxious glance at Yuso, Jun bowed again and edged out of earshot. Ido drained the cup and wiped his mouth with his thumb, the action making him wince. His top lip was swollen and the tight rope had already chafed a raw ring around his wrists.

“Sit back,” I said.

He sank on to his heels with a small sigh of relief. “I’m out of condition. My master used to make me hold a Staminata position for hours.” He rolled his shoulders. “We will start your training there: I don’t think you have done much Staminata work, and it is the cornerstone of energy manipulation.”

I resisted the tantalizing call of his knowledge. “Why did you provoke Kygo?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “He could have killed you.”

Ido squinted across at the emperor. “His mother and brother were murdered with my help. Of course he wants to kill me.”

In the distance, Kygo raised his head as if he felt our attention, his sudden stillness a clear message.

Ido gave a low laugh. “He doesn’t like you being here, either.”

Nor did Yuso. The captain had also looked up, and I could feel the wave of fury from him.

“Why did you provoke Kygo?” I repeated.

Ido wiped the sweat out of his eyes with the back of one bound hand. “At some point, he was going to try to kill me. If it didn’t happen now, it was going to happen later, with even more heat behind it. Better that I gave him a reason to unleash it as soon as he saw me.” He touched his lip with a light finger. “Now it is done. He checked his rage. He has missed his kill moment.”

I remembered the vicious brutality in Kygo’s eyes at the village inn. I wasn’t so sure the moment was lost. “It was a big gamble,” I said.

“No. The dice were loaded in my favor.”

“How?”

“You.”

I frowned. “You knew I would stop the emperor?”

He tilted his head, watching me. “Yes.”

Was I so transparent to him? The thought sent a small jab of fear through me.

“It is obvious that he wants you,” Ido added. “He wants your power — and he wants your body.”

My skin flushed under his blunt words. He made Kygo’s desire sound like his own attempt on my body and power in the harem — brutal and self-centered. I remembered the suffocating weight of his body pinning me against the wall, and his hunger for the Mirror Dragon’s power.

As if he could see my thoughts, he said softly, “You have good reason to kill me, too.”

“I have many good reasons,” I said crisply. “But I also have a good reason to keep you alive.”

“I know. You want your world of power. That is why I knew you’d stop him.”

I drew back, but he shook his head. “You don’t need to pretend with me, Eona. If there is one thing I understand, it is the need for power.”

“I do not need power,” I said quickly.

He studied the rope around his wrists. “Need. Want. Desire.” He shrugged. “You and I both know what it is like to have immense power. And we also know what it is like to be truly powerless.” He lifted his hands. “Not this kind of feeble restraint. You know what I mean: true and utter powerlessness. Whether it be the kind we have inflicted upon each other, or the kind that Sethon”—his hands clenched involuntarily—“deals in so masterfully. I will do whatever I must to never feel that powerless again. And you are the same.”

“We are not the same,” I said vehemently. “And you are powerless now. I can compel you any time I want. Crush you, like that.” I closed my fist.

He shook his head. “You’ve missed your kill moment, too, Eona.”

I opened my mouth to deny it, but his knowing eyes silenced me. He was right. I’d had two chances to avenge my master and the other Dragoneye lords — on the night of the coup, and last night. I had failed both times.

He gestured at the food in my hand. “Of course, you could very well kill me with frustration if you don’t give me that dried meat.”

With a reluctant smile, I handed over the strip of beef. He crammed it into his mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Yuso striding toward us, almost vibrating with rage.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yuso glared at me.

“Do you understand, captain?” I snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your Majesty,” I said, and bowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then Yuso is acting alone?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiled grimly. “Go on.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Moon Orchid helped you? How is she?”

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

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

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

We both stared at the ring swinging between us.

“Keep it,” he said.

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

“It does.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What kind of question is that?”

“Which would you choose?”

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

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

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

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

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

I kept my head bowed.

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

“May I withdraw?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was Lord Somo,” Dela said.

“Never heard of him.”

“He was the Rat Dragoneye.”

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” I said firmly.

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?”

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

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

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

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

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