Eona: The Last Dragoneye

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

RULAN HELD BACK a branch for me as I followed Kygo past the scrubby stand of trees to the lookout that had the best view of Sethon’s camp. The tribal leader and his people had certainly become more respectful since my display of power. I wiped the slip of sweat gathered at the base of my throat and blew a cooling breath upward. The day’s heat was building to its peak, and Kygo’s pace was relentless. He was set on gaining a rapid overview of the resistance resources and what we faced on the plain below.

I had not even had a chance to see Rilla and Chart and celebrate the wonder of my dragon’s healing power. Or tell Chart about the effect of that power on his will. I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake off the dread of that moment; surely his joy would override any distress. And he knew me well enough to know that I had healed him out of love, even if it had looked as if it was done in anger. There had been no time to explain afterward; Kygo had wanted me by his side in the formal negotiations, and Chart had been too shocked to take much in. But I had at least promised him I would visit as soon as I could.

“What do you expect with these shackles?” Ido’s low voice, behind me, was full of contempt. “If you want me to move faster, take them off.”

I looked over my shoulder. Yuso was taunting him again, like a mongoose baiting a snake.

After the brutal events of the morning, I had not expected Ido’s inclusion in the observation party. Yet, on reflection, it made sense. Both he and I needed to know the terrain of the battlefield and the scope of Sethon’s preparation. And Kygo was no doubt reminding Rulan and the other tribal leaders that Ido was not only a murderous traitor — he was also a Dragoneye, and a key player in the battle to come.

Yuso prodded Ido in the back. “I doubt you will ever get out of shackles, my lord.” He leaned closer, but I caught his soft words. “And you are the girl’s bitch, forever.”

Anger flared in Ido’s face. He did not normally rise to Yuso’s harassment. Uneasily, I realized my own anger had risen too. I shook it off; Ido did not need me to defend him.

“Lady Eona.” I turned at Kygo’s call. “Come look.”

I forged through the thinning copse of trees. Kygo stood with Tozay under a shaded overhang of branches, a scout crouched at their feet. All three men observed the sweep of land below the precipice on which we stood. As I stepped up beside Kygo, the scout ducked his head into a quick bow.

The back of my neck prickled with the sight before me. Sethon’s army was camped halfway along the massive plain. The stretch of tents and war machinery and horses and men was so great that, although I squinted, I could not see where the camp ended, its far reaches lost in distance. I had thought I was prepared for the battle ahead, but the plunging freeze in my gut told me otherwise. I’d had no true idea of what we were about to face.

Tozay gestured across the flat expanse of land that stretched between the precipice and the front line of the army camp. “Sethon has staked a battleground. But he will not attack us while we hold the high advantage.”

“What will he do?” I asked.

Kygo rubbed his chin. “He will try to lure us to him so we surrender our high ground.”

“Lure us? With what?”

Kygo nodded. “That is a good question, Naiso.”

“So this is what fifteen thousand men look like,” I said, my voice a little too hearty.

“No, my lady,” the scout said. “This is eight thousand men. See those pockets of dust?” He pointed to tiny puffs on the horizon. “That is more men coming into camp.”

Dry fear caked my throat. May the gods keep us: this was only half of them. “You have keen eyes,” I said.

“Our best eyes,” Rulan said, walking up beside me. He pointed to a large red pavilion tent set close to the front. “That is Sethon’s tent. Arrogant prick.”

A soft clink of metal announced Ido’s arrival. He scanned the low plain, his heavy brows angled into a frown. With a shake of his head, he stepped back.

“You have something to say, Lord Ido?” Kygo said sharply.

The Dragoneye looked up as though roused from a daze. “No. Nothing.”

He lifted his shackled hands and dug his fingers into his forehead. Almost all color had drained from his face, and his skin was sheened with sweat. Yet it did not look like fear or heat.

“When was Lord Ido last given water?” Kygo demanded.

Yuso stepped forward. “Before we got to camp, Your Majesty.”

“Get him water.” Kygo turned back to watch the plain.

Yuso bowed and headed to the young porter carrying the water skins. Ido grabbed my sleeve and edged me back a step, and another, until we had a slice of open ground between us and the men concentrating on the enemy below.

“Dillon is a day from us.” His voice was barely a breath. “He is like a nail in my head.” He pressed his fingers into his temple. My gaze fixed on his arm — the arm I had burned and healed.

He brushed his fingers against mine. “Never apologize for your power,” he murmured.

I pulled away as Yuso approached with the water skin. He thrust it at Ido’s hands.

“Is this one of your petty ideas, Yuso?” I said, trying to cover the rise of heat in my face. “Denying water?”

The Captain crossed his arms. “You are always very concerned for Lord Ido’s welfare, my lady.”

I had no answer to his sly insolence. Lifting my chin, I walked back to Kygo, the fear of Dillon’s approach and the touch of Ido’s fingers twining together into a hammering beat through my body.

It was late afternoon before I was able to make my way to the round tent assigned to Rilla, Lon, and Chart. Surrounded by a three-man escort, I walked through the rows of bleachedcloth-and-rope-bound dwellings. Curious onlookers gathered to watch the Dragoneye walk by, their hopeful murmurs following me like a long, whispered prayer. News of Chart’s restoration had traveled fast in the camp, and a small crowd was outside his tent to catch sight of the evidence of my mighty power.

A few hours ago, the boy had been an untouchable demon of ill fortune. Now he was a symbol of power and hope. It was an effect of the healing that I had not considered.

I saw Rilla through a gap in the crowd, crouched next to a cooking fire. She was shaking a pan over the heat — goat meat, by the dank gaminess of the smoke — and staunchly ignoring the press of murmuring curiosity that followed her every move. Lon leaned against the sturdy frame of their tent next to the faded red door, his size and watchful demeanor sending a clear message.

“My lady, please wait,” Caido said beside me.

He signaled to the other two men in my escort to clear a path through the onlookers. There was no need. A small girl jabbing a twig into the dirt caught sight of me, her yelp of excitement swinging all attention upon us and parting the throng into two ragged, bowing borders.

Rilla hastily placed the pan onto the ground and rose from her crouch, anxiously tucking a strand of graying hair into her coiled braid. She and Lon bowed.

“Lady Eona.” Her face was a tense mixture of smile and tears.

“I am sorry I could not come before.” I took her hands in mine. “How is Chart?”

“He is—” She looked around at the avid faces and turned away. “They will not leave,” she whispered, drawing me closer to the tent. “My lady, Chart is … overwhelmed. As I am.” She squeezed my fingers. “I think it will take us all more than just a day to feel the truth of your wonderful gift.” She glanced at the red door. “He is”—her hand undulated through the air—“up and down, my lady. He has had fifteen years as he was, and in just a moment you have made him something different.”

“But he is healed. He is whole again. Like me.”

“Yes, his body is healed,” she said slowly.

“Well, I will see him,” I said, perplexed by her hesitancy.

“Of course, my lady.” She cleared her throat. “Lady Dela and Ryko sit with him now.”

“Ryko?” The islander had never met Chart. Why was he here? I could think of only one reason: to inform the boy about the compulsion. Did he truly think I would keep it from Chart?

“Ryko says he has also been healed by you.” Rilla’s voice was flat. I recognized the neutral tone: she had always used it when my master had done something questionable. Ryko must have told her, too. Resentment straightened my back. Her son was healed; surely that outweighed any cost.

Rilla ushered me forward as Lon swung the door open. Behind us, people craned to look inside the tent. I stepped over the high threshold, the door closing swiftly behind me. For a moment, the abrupt shift from harsh sunlight to dim interior reduced everything to featureless gray shapes. I paused, waiting as color and details sharpened into focus.

“Lady Eona.”

Dela rose from a stool and bowed. She had exchanged her man’s clothing for a long orange tunic cut in the full-skirted style of the eastern tribeswomen. Behind her, Chart was propped against a mound of cushions on a bed seat, one of three that were set around the edge of the small tent. Ryko stood next to him. The islander bowed stiffly to me and stepped back as I crossed the floor rugs. The stove set between the two central poles was unlit, but the tent was still stuffy, the day’s heat trapped by the tightly closed door.

“Lady Eona, I hoped you would come,” Chart said. Without the strain in his throat, his voice held the deeper timbre of manhood. He rocked forward on the bed, attempting to hoist himself to his feet, but his thin arms buckled. “Ryko, will you help me?”

The islander took Chart’s arm and pulled him upright. I stared at the boy’s sudden height; he was at least a head taller than me.

Braced by Ryko, Chart bowed. “See, my lady, I can stand.” He grinned, the echo of my old master in his narrow features. “My muscles are too weak for much yet.” He paused and took a wheezing breath. “But Lon says with practice I’ll get stronger. He’s already made me this.” He held out a ball made of roughly bound leather strips. “To help my hands.”

I smiled. “You’re so tall!”

“I know, I know,” Chart crowed. He coughed and swallowed hard. “Not used to having so many words at once,” he rasped.

“Help him sit down again, Ryko,” Dela said, reaching for the boy. “He looks pale.”

“No!” The excitement in Chart’s voice sharpened. “Do not talk over me as if I were still on the floor!”

Dela drew back.

“You have been through a lot, boy, but keep a civil tongue,” Ryko warned.

Chart pulled his arm out of the islander’s tight hold, swaying as he turned to face me. “Ryko says that you can control my will now. Is that true?”

I met his fierce gaze. “I was going to tell you myself.” I glared at Ryko. “Did you think I would not tell him?”

“I no longer know what you will do,” Ryko said. “Your ideas of right and wrong have changed since you have become so close to Lord Ido.”

“Ryko!” Dela said. “This is not the way to do it. Not in front of the boy.”

The islander and I turned away from the Contraire.

“What are you saying, Ryko?” I demanded.

His chin jutted forward. “I see the same love of power in you that I see in him. You did not heal Chart for his own sake. You healed him as a show of your might, with no thought to his wants or needs.”

I bit down on my anger and glanced across at the boy. “You are happy to be healed, aren’t you?”

Chart groped for the liberation disc around his neck. “Am I still a free man? I don’t understand what this compulsion means.”

“Of course you are free,” I said.

Ryko snorted. “As free as a man whose will can be controlled at any time.”

“I will not apologize for using my power,” I snapped. My glance took in Chart and Dela, too. “You saw what happened in that meeting tent. I did what was best for the emperor.”

“You always have a good reason ready,” Ryko said. “You could have stopped once you’d healed Lord Ido. It was enough. But you did not.”

I crossed my arms. “You were not even in the tent.”

“No. But I felt you glorying in your power. You wanted to show your strength and fury and you used Chart to do it. Not so long ago, you would never have done that.”

“Even if that were true, it doesn’t matter.” I swept my hand through his accusation. “Everything has changed. I have to do things now that I never thought I would.”

“It matters to me,” Chart said.

I swung around to face him. “What?”

The boy flinched but his gaze was steady. “This gift is truly a blessing from the gods, Lady Eona, and I thank you.” He swallowed hard and held up the disc. “But you also gave me my liberation: the right to decide and choose for myself. In the meeting tent, you took that away.” He coughed and lifted his chin, stretching his throat muscles for more words. “When you were just Eon, you were my friend. I was always a real person to you. Never a demon freak without voice or mind. But in that tent, you made me the freak.” He drew himself up to his full height, the effort making his thin body shake. “You did not even look at my face until it was all over. I was just the thing you were using your power upon.”

“No, it was not like that,” I said, denying the sting of truth in his words. “You would have chosen to be healed, wouldn’t you?”

“That is exactly the point,” Ryko said acidly. “You did not give him the choice.”

“I do not need you to speak on my behalf,” Chart snapped at the islander. He turned back to me. “Have you already forgotten what it was like to be the cripple? To be allowed no feelings, no humanity? My friend Eon would not have forgotten.”

“I have not forgotten,” I said, trying to push down my own anger. “But I am not Eon anymore. Everything has changed. I am Lady Eona. I am the Mirror Dragoneye. I am the emperor’s Naiso.”

“Does that mean you no longer have to think of other people?” Ryko demanded. “Do you have your own rules now?”

I rounded on him. “That is unfair.” My resentment gathered Dela and Chart into its bitterness. “I am always thinking of other people. None of you understand what it is like.”

“You still should have asked me,” Chart said stubbornly. “Eon would have asked me.”

Dela touched my arm. “I know you are not easy with what happened in the meeting tent,” she said. “You have gone against your own sense of right and wrong. Deep down you know it. Do not let all this power cloud your spirit, Eona.”

I pulled my arm away. “Who are you to tell me about my power or my spirit? I am the Mirror Dragoneye and I will do as I see fit.”

Ryko stared at me. “Listen to yourself. That is something Ido would say. He has got inside your mind as well as your body.”

“Ryko!” Dela gasped.

“That is not true!” The heat of my fury reached toward him, seeking his Hua, seeking to force his words back down his throat. I felt my heartbeat engulf his life-force, doubling him over and dragging another faster, frightened rhythm with it. Chart. The boy clutched at the air, his knees buckling. Dela lunged for him and caught his frail weight against her body before he hit the floor.

What was I doing? Abruptly I broke the connection.

Ryko raised his head, panting. “Is this your answer to everything now?”

I turned on my heel and pushed all my anguish against the wooden door, feeling Lon shift aside. The sight of the watching crowd tipped my wretchedness back into fury.

“Go back to your tents,” I yelled.

They gaped at me.

“Now!” I screamed. “Get out of here!”

Ducking into low bows, the mass of people backed away and broke into small groups, scurrying through the pathways between the tents.

Rilla stood up. “What has happened?”

“I am the Mirror Dragoneye,” I said bitterly. “That is what has happened.”

I looked back at the door. Lon had closed it again. “Tell Chart I am sorry.”

“For what? Healing him?” Rilla said.

“No. Tell him I am sorry for not being Eon.”

I walked away from her bewilderment, my escort hurrying into position around me. The Mirror Dragoneye did not apologize for her power.

The evening meal was a drawn-out affair, with the tribal leaders eager to show the emperor their local delicacies and entertainments. There seemed to be a lot of goat, and a sour rice wine called the Demon Killer, and dancing to drums, all bound together with an extravagant bravado that drove the laughter into hard shrieks, and the drinking into fierce competition. I sat at Kygo’s left on the raised dais set up under the crescent moon and cloudless night sky, the dining circle surrounded by torches dug into the earth. There was little chance for private conversation, only a few snatched words in between the constant claims of the tribal leaders for our attention, and the loud relentless entertainments. In one moment of rare calm, Kygo leaned across to me, his hand finding mine under the low table. The gentle pressure of his fingers eased my wretchedness.

“You are pale.” His breath was spiced with wine. “Is something wrong?”

I swallowed, trying to force down the oily nausea that I knew heralded the black folio. Unbidden, my gaze found Lord Ido, seated under guard across the circle. Kygo had insisted that he attend the dinner, but the Dragoneye had refused all food and drink. He sat very still as if any movement would break him apart, and his skin had a gray cast that added years to his face. My sickness came from just the approach of the folio, but Ido had a direct connection to it via the Rat Dragon and Dillon. I could not even imagine what he was suffering.

Kygo followed my gaze. “He looks unwell.”

At some point very soon, I would have to tell him that I had forced Ido to call Dillon to us, but it was not a conversation to be tucked in between one goat dish and another.

At Kygo’s throat, the Imperial Pearl caught the flickers of orange and red torchlight as though it held its own fire. What would happen if I told him the whole truth? That I had kept Dillon’s arrival from him because the black folio held a way to bind my will and power. That I knew the Hua of All Men was the pearl stitched into his skin and his blood, and I had not told him because I hoped to find a way to save the dragons that did not make me a threat to his life. Any king in his right mind would kill me on the spot.

I shrugged. “Nothing is wrong with me,” I said. “Except too much goat.”

He smiled, squeezing my hand. “It is not my favorite meat, either, but it is certainly abundant.” He lowered his voice. “The things we do in the name of duty.”

His attention was claimed by Soran with yet another drunken story of battle prowess. I watched him graciously accept a piece of roasted goat from a fresh platter, his eyes meeting mine in a quick slide of amusement. The intimacy of the glance sent a wash of warmth through me that distilled into a single sharp ache of desire.

Where did my duty lie: with this powerful, beautiful man who held my hand and named me moon to his sun; or with the dragons, the source of my own magnificent power? Somehow I had to find a way to serve the interests of both. Yet what if it came to a choice between them? I shifted uneasily on the cushions: Ido was also bound up within that terrible question. As if he had heard my thoughts, the Dragoneye raised his head. There was fear in his eyes, and it chilled me with foreboding. Ido was as much in the balance as Kygo and the spirit beasts. He was tied just as tightly as I was to the dragons and their destiny. And that destiny was walking toward us with a black folio strapped to its arm and madness darkening its mind.