Eona: The Last Dragoneye

CHAPTER SEVEN

DAWN FINALLY BRIGHTENED the sky Wearily, I propped myself on my elbows, the thin rug beneath me bunched into a map of my restlessness. Surely daybreak would end the dark unease that had kept me awake for hours, reliving the caress of the pearl. I hauled myself to my knees and tried to shake off the lingering sensations that still whispered in my blood.

I knew that Kygo had also been disturbed by what had happened between us. After I came to my senses, I was barely able to whisper, “Ido lives,” before he had ordered me away from him, his voice hoarse as if with anger. Perhaps he had felt Kinra’s presence, too.

And with that thought, a new dread surfaced. I had not been holding Kinra’s swords last night, yet I had still been driven to reach for the pearl in the same way she had reached for it hundreds of years ago. This time it had felt different; there was no rage, only single-minded desire. Maybe her will had merged with mine — and I was so much in her thrall that I could not tell the difference. The possibility was like an icy hand gripping my innards.

I rolled my shoulders, working tension out of the stiff joints. Kygo still sat where I had left him hours ago, beyond Vida and Solly. Although he had not said as much, I was sure he was planning to rescue Ido. Did he not realize it would be like catching a snake by the tail? I used all of my will to keep from looking at his face, but some part of me knew he was watching my every move. It was as though his Hua pressed against mine.

Nearby, Yuso stood over Tiron and nudged the young guard awake with a booted foot. Would they follow their emperor into such a dangerous and repugnant enterprise? They were Imperial Guards, but I could not even guess at the depth of their loyalty. At the very least, Yuso doubted his young overlord’s judgment. There were, however, no doubts in Vida and Solly. They were resistance; placing Kygo on the throne was their cause.

Lady Dela would follow, too, although her loyalty was forged by necessity. Unlike his brother and nephew, Sethon was not tolerant of difference. Particularly Dela’s difference. She sat on her blanket with the red folio already open and propped against her knees, her face set into fierce concentration. Now and again she glanced across at Ryko, who patrolled the perimeter of the clearing, but his attention was fixed on the surrounding forest. Ryko was loyal to the emperor, but he would balk at any plan that involved Ido. Except, perhaps, assassination.

“Lady Eona.” Vida bowed by my side. “His Majesty has sent me to assist you.”

Kygo stood with his back to us, talking to Yuso. Perhaps I had been mistaken about him watching me. Then again, he had known when to send Vida to my side.

“Here.” She offered her hand.

I stifled a groan as she pulled me upright; I did not want to sound like an old, rheumy villager. I already stank like a stable hand.

“I need to wash.”

“It will have to be quick, my lady. His Majesty wants us to assemble.”

Quick was not going to be possible, but I nodded and hobbled after her into the undergrowth. We wove through the dense stand of mountain ash, the early sunlight barely breaking through its canopy to the thick layer of leaf litter underfoot. It was a short walk, but by the time we came to the stream, the dawn breeze had already shifted into the stronger wind that brought the monsoon rains.

“Be careful,” Vida warned. “The flooding has made the edges soft.”

The grass along each bank was lying flat, a sure sign of receded water. A few lengths downstream, a large area of churned mud showed footprints and the deep cut of hooves.

“I am not looking forward to another day on that horse,” I said, hoping to create some ease between us. “I feel like I have been twisted and tied into an eternity knot.”

Vida smiled. “It will pass.”

“So I’ve been told.” A careful press of my foot found soft but supportive ground. Gingerly, I crouched and dipped my hand into the cold water, letting it flow through my fingers. “You seem unaffected,” I added. “Have you done a lot of riding?”

The silence was too long for the question. I turned.

Vida stood with her arms wrapped around her body, her face swollen with unshed tears. “My betrothed taught me.”

For a long moment, we were caught in each other’s pain— her loss and my dawning guilt. Her betrothed had been one of the villagers.

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” I whispered. Such inadequate words.

“Lady Dela said you couldn’t control it.”

“No.”

Vida nodded, accepting my answer. “You have to.”

I turned back to the fast-flowing water, away from her sadness. My fingers were numb with cold. I rubbed them on my skirt, forcing warmth into them. I knew I should say something else — a reassurance, or another apology — but by the time I looked back over my shoulder, she was already retreating into the undergrowth.

She would be back; Vida would not disobey her emperor’s command. Still, she deserved a few moments to grieve. Although I could not offer any worthwhile consolation, I could at least use the time alone to honor her demand and try to control my power. Even if it was only to ask Kinra to stop aiming her ghostly rage at Kygo and her ancient greed for the pearl into my heart. If I were lucky, she would answer my prayer.

The death plaque pouch was bound tightly under my sash. I pulled it free and loosened the drawstring, then upended it. The two black lacquered finger-lengths of wood slid onto my palm. I picked up the plainer memorial: a thinly etched line bordered the edge, and workmanlike carved characters spelled out “Charra.” My unknown ancestress. I pushed it back into the pouch and returned it for safekeeping under my sash. I had no quarrel with Charra.

The other plaque was far more worn, but the remains of elaborate decoration were still visible. I ran my thumb over the elegantly carved “Kinra”—faintly inlaid with gold — and traced the tiny dragon that snaked under her name like a flourish.

I settled on to my knees. The sodden earth squelched under me, pushing cold water through the layers of skirt and shift. I held out the plaque and closed my hand until I felt its edges through the layers of my bandage.

Kinra, Mirror Dragoneye, I prayed, and channeled all of my fear and frustration into my tight grip. Leave me be. Please stop bringing your anger and desire into my heart. Please stop trying to hurt Kygo and take the pearl.

It was not an elaborate prayer, but I was not a Beseecher. I opened my hand and stared at the relic, overtaken by the memory of a holy man who had preached to us at the salt farm, years ago. He had not only believed that our ancestors resided in the local shrines, but he had insisted that their spirits also inhabited their death plaques. My friend Dolana had dismissed the teaching as a zealot’s frenzy. Now I wondered if the holy man had been right. Perhaps that was how Kinra had visited me last night.

At the thought, I jerked my hand back and lost my grip on the plaque. My reflex grab missed. The plaque dropped into the stream and spun into a drift of silt. I launched myself at it, but was pulled up short, my knees anchored in the soggy folds of my skirt. Even as I grabbed for the plaque again, the quick water pulled it from its mooring, out of reach.

I struggled to my feet, slipping on the waterlogged grass along the bank. The plaque was forced up against a tiny dam of twigs and mud, the water dragging it through the disintegrating mound.

I stopped.

Maybe I should let it go. Let the water carry Kinra’s treachery away from me. I could close one of her doorways to this earthly plane forever.

Yet, she was my history. My legacy. A link to my family.

The plaque slid into a widening breach.

I wrenched off both sandals, then ripped at the drawstring around my skirt and kicked it off. I plunged into the water, the slap of cold against my shins, knees, thighs forcing my breath out in high gasps. My shift and tunic wrapped around me in a wet weight, the ends of my silk sash flicking and darting from my waist like red carp. The plaque slipped, then caught against the collapsing dam. I waded toward it, the current pressing against my legs. Rocks below shifted under my weight, jarring my ankle bones and scraping at my skin.

The remnants of the tiny dam loosened into a swirling mess of twigs and sediment. The plaque disappeared, then bobbed up. I clutched at it, but only scooped water, the force sending the plaque down again. Had I lost it? Hands ready, I focused fiercely on the dizzying surface. The plaque shot up an arm’s length away. I pounced. As my fingers closed around the memorial, my feet slipped and both knees slammed against the rocky bed. Another shock of water soaked me up to my chest. But I was holding the plaque.

Shakily, I found my footing. My pursuit had brought me level with the horses’ watering place. I clambered onto the bank, my shift and tunic dripping water down my bruised legs. Cold mud oozed between my toes.

I wiped a smear of silt from the plaque. Kinra was a part of me; casting aside her death plaque would not change my heritage. Nor would it change the burden of her treachery. I ran my hand over my drenched sash and found the pouch — Charra’s plaque was safe, too. Sighing my relief, I pulled the dripping bag free, shook off the water, and slotted Kinra’s memorial back inside.

“Eona?”

I spun around. Dela stood at the tree line.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine.” I softened the curtness with a quick wave and limped over to my abandoned skirt and sandals.

“His Majesty wants us to assemble. We will be leaving soon.” Dela made her way across the damp ground, picking up her feet as though she wore silk slippers instead of sturdy merchant sandals. She clicked her tongue. “You’re soaked.”

We both turned at the sounds of approach. Vida emerged from the forest a few lengths away, pausing as she met our scrutiny. Even from where we stood, I could see her eyes were red from crying.

“Vida,” Dela said. “Do we have dry clothes for Lady Eona?”

“We only have what we’re wearing,” Vida said.

“Swap with her then, until hers are dry.”

Vida’s jaw shifted.

“No,” I cut in. “We don’t have to do that. They’ll dry soon enough.” It was not true — nothing dried quickly in these humid monsoon days — but I did not want to add to Vida’s resentment.

Dela waved aside my protest. “You can’t ride behind the emperor in wet clothes. He may get damp.”

There was no counter to that argument. I soon stood in Vida’s gown while she struggled to pull on the waterlogged layers of my skirt, undershift and tunic.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered.

She shot me a dark look.

I tugged at the gaping neckline of the maid’s dress. On Vida, it had sat modestly over her curves. On me, it plunged too low, and the wide cut emphasized the jut of my collarbones. I yanked it up again, bunching the loose cloth at the waist in my other hand.

“Here, let me help.” Dela wrapped the rough-spun sash around me. “This will keep it up.”

She tucked and tied until everything was covered, although the neckline was still too low. I pressed my hands over the pale skin of my chest; it was not only my collarbones that were emphasized.

Vida bent and picked up the pouch from the ground. “My lady, do not forget this,” she said, handing it to me.

I was fairly sure that Kinra’s death plaque was not as dangerous as her swords, but I still did not want to carry it. “Lady Dela, will you keep this for me?” I held out the pouch. “With the journal?”

Dela eyed the offered bag. “Vida, return to the others,” she said, the dismissal firm. “Tell His Majesty that we are soon behind you.”

Vida cast her a curious glance, but headed back toward the forest. As soon as she was gone from sight, Dela reached across, but her hand grasped my wrist instead of the pouch. “What is going on, Eona?”

I pulled back, but she held fast.

“You will not carry the journal, your swords, or your compass,” she said, “and now you want me to take your ancestors’ death plaques. Something is wrong.”

I bit down on my lip. I should have remembered Dela’s keen eyes; after all, she had survived the imperial court through quick wits and insight. I had no doubt she wanted to help me— Dela always wanted to help. Yet telling her about Kinra would be just the same as telling Ryko, and he would go straight to the emperor.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said. “Nothing is wrong.” Another jerk of my wrist freed me from her grasp. “His Majesty awaits us.”

I pushed the pouch into the deep pocket of Vida’s gown. I would be rid of the ill-fitting dress soon, and with it, Kinra’s plaque.

I arrived at the clearing ahead of Dela. She had dropped a few lengths behind me — the distance, no doubt, a silent rebuke for refusing her help. While we had been gone, the camp had been packed away and the horses saddled. The only signs of our occupation were tamped-down grass and a patch of soft muddy ground around the trees where the horses were tied.

The emperor was waiting. He stood with his arms crossed, the rest of our troop kneeling in a loose semicircle before him.

“Lady Eona.” Kygo waved me to his side.

Had he already told them I was his Naiso? They all watched as I made my way across the grass, but I saw no shock or disapproval.

They did not know yet.

Kygo’s eyes flicked over my body. “You are unhurt?”

“Yes.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Thank you,” I added awkwardly.

Dela’s arrival turned his attention from me. The Contraire sank into a low court bow, murmuring apologies. She dropped to her knees beside Ryko as I joined the emperor. With a small nod, he indicated that I should stand behind him, at his left shoulder.

“Traditional position,” he murmured close to my ear. “You guard my weakest side.” The warmth of his breath raised an answering flush in my cheeks.

None of the six tired faces before me seemed to have registered the symbolism of where I stood. But then, why should they? The old emperor had never appointed a Naiso, and a female advisor was unthinkable.

Ryko’s gaze was still squarely on me, his jaw set. No forgiveness there. Solly was expectant, his ugly face red and shiny from the heat. Vida was smoothing the wet tunic over her thighs, her attention on Kygo. Captain Yuso was his usual watchful self. Next to him, Tiron was excited, but doing his best to copy his superior’s calm confidence. I caught Dela’s quick sideways glance at Ryko; she was worried about the islander. But then, so was I.

“Ever since the palace was taken,” Kygo said, “we have been reacting to my uncle’s strategies. Now it is time for us to act.”

Yuso nodded approvingly.

“You will have noticed the change in the rains and winds,” Kygo continued. “Without the full circle of dragons and their Dragoneyes, our land is not protected from the whims of the weather demons or the angers of the earth.” He glanced back at me. “Nor can Lady Eona control any earth forces by herself. She has no training and, at present, cannot use her power.”

Although his voice was dispassionate, the stark announcement of my failure sent shame through me. I dared not look around the circle; I could feel their disillusion like a thousand pin pricks on my skin.

“Cannot use it at all, Your Majesty?” Yuso asked. I winced at the dismay in the man’s voice.

“Lady Eona needs training,” Kygo said firmly. “This is why we now go to the palace to free Lord Ido.”

No one moved. All I could hear was the hammering of my heart.

“Free Ido?” Ryko finally said. He sat back on his heels. “You want to free that murdering bastard?”

“Yes, we must free Lord Ido.” The emperor’s soft emphasis was a warning.

Ryko ducked his head, but his eyes searched the silent semicircle for support. He found it.

“Your Majesty,” Solly said, bowing, “forgive my blunt speech, but we cannot go near the palace. It is too dangerous. We must rendezvous with the Eastern Resistance, not be sidetracked into a worthless enterprise.”

“It is far from worthless,” Kygo said coldly. “There is more to war than the number of soldiers on each side. A war is won or lost by five fundamentals, and the first and foremost is the Hua-do of the people. If the people’s will is not at one with their ruler, then he will lose the war.”

“Highness,” Tiron said hesitantly. “I am truly stupid, for I cannot see how freeing Lord Ido will win the Hua-do of the people. He is feared, not loved.”

Kygo frowned. “This is the decision I have made. There will be no more discussion.”

“Your Majesty,” I said, “may I speak to you in private?”

I turned away from the startled faces before us and walked a few steps, the emperor matching my pace.

“You may want to explain your reasoning to them,” I said softly.

He shot me a sharp look. “Explain? They should just follow my orders. Discipline is the second fundamental.”

“They will always follow your orders,” I said. “But it will be easier if they are — as you say — at one with you. If they understand your strategy.”

He gave a wry smile. “You use my own words to counsel me, Naiso, yet bring greater wisdom.” He gripped my shoulder. “Win their Hua-do, win the war. Thank you.”

We both looked at his hand resting on the exposed curve of my collarbone. I felt the heat rise to my face again. His other hand found the pearl at his throat, his own color rising around it.

Abruptly he walked back to the troop. I waited a moment longer — until the flush had receded from my face — then followed him. This time, my position by his side was noticed; Dela sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes finding mine. I could not wholly fathom her expression. There was shock, of course, but also something else. Something akin to wonderment.

“There are only two Dragoneyes left alive,” Kygo said. “One is here,” he nodded at me, “the other is held by my uncle. Around us, our land is being rocked by the loss of its Dragoneye protectors. We are already seeing the floods caused by the unchecked monsoon rains. Crops are being ruined, and with that will come starvation and disease. But it will not only be floods and crops. It will be mudslides, tsunamis, cyclones, earthshakes. There will be more destruction, more despair, more death.”

He looked up at the sky. Inexorably, we all lifted our heads, too. A dark bank of low cloud spread from north to south, the warm wind carrying the sweet metallic tang of rain.

“The emperor who brings back the protection of the dragons will win the Hua-do of the people,” Kygo said. “And the emperor who holds the Hua-do will hold the land.” He paused, allowing that implacable truth to find its mark. “This is why we must rescue Lord Ido. We cannot allow my uncle to have a Dragoneye at his command, even one who is under duress. And we must have the two Ascendant Dragoneyes working together to calm the land and show the people that we can protect them.”

“Your Majesty, there is no guarantee that Lord Ido will agree to help us, even if we do manage to get him out of the palace,” Ryko said.

“That is true. There are no guarantees. There is, however, the certainty that without Lord Ido, Lady Eona will not be able to use her power. She must be trained, and he is the only Dragoneye left to do it.”

There was also another certainty, known only to me. Ido would jump at the chance to mold my power. He thought I was the key to the String of Pearls and the throne. For a moment I considered offering the insight, but the idea of Ido with access to my power would not reassure anyone.

And there was always the chance that I had truly changed him.

Yuso bowed deeply, the others quickly following his lead. “Your wisdom is heaven-sent, Your Majesty,” he said. Around the semicircle, murmurs of agreement sounded.

“I also have an excellent advisor,” Kygo said. “Lady Eona has agreed to be my Naiso.”

“What?” Ryko reared out of his bow.

Yuso was not far behind, astonishment shifting into disbelief. The others were just a blur as I lowered my head, bracing against their shock.

“Your Majesty, no!” Ryko’s anger propelled him forward on his knees. “You don’t know her.” The venom in his voice struck at me. I clenched my fists.

“A girl, Your Majesty? How can a girl advise you?” Yuso demanded. “It is against nature.”

“She is not just a girl,” Dela said, “she is the Ascendant Dragoneye.”

“She has no training,” Yuso countered. “No military background. She knows nothing.”

“It is not the first time a woman has been Naiso,” Dela said.

I looked up; did I hear that right? Another woman?

“Lady Eona is the emperor’s choice.” Vida’s voice was highpitched with her audacity.

“Vida, know your place,” Solly snapped.

“Enough!” The emperor’s command dropped the troop back into crouched bows. “Lady Eona is my Naiso. That is the end of it.”

Slowly, Ryko lifted his head. “Your Majesty, please allow me to speak. As a member of your trusted guard, and as your loyal subject.”

Kygo hissed out a breath. “You are straining those bonds, Ryko.”

“Please, Your Majesty. It is for your own safety.” Ryko glanced at me, the hostility in his eyes like a blow to the chest.

Kygo nodded. “What is it?”

“Lady Eona cannot be trusted to bring you the truth.”

“Ryko,” Dela whispered beside him. “No.”

Solly and Tiron raised their heads, tense and watchful. Vida stayed tightly tucked into her bow.

“Are you accusing Lady Eona of being a liar?” the emperor asked.

“Yes.”

Kygo nodded. “It is a fair accusation.”

I wove my fingers together, shunting all of my anguish into the painful pressure. Kygo did not trust me, after all. He must have realized I had lied to him last night.

“And one that Lady Eona has admitted herself,” he added. “That is all in the past.”

My tension eased. Kygo glanced back at me with a reassuring smile.

“But it is not just straight lies, Your Majesty.”

Ryko straightened from his bow. I glared at the islander. He had been told it didn’t matter. Yet he still pushed.

“It is more insidious than that,” he said. “It is half-truths and omissions—”

I took a step forward. This was not duty; this was plain malice.

“Ryko,” I said. “Stop it.”

His face did not even register my words. “—and even if she does give some truth, you cannot—”

My rage rose like a savage creature howling its freedom. It reached across to Ryko, clawing at his life force. I felt his heartbeat meld into mine, the quick rhythm of his rancor overwhelmed by my pounding fury. I had control of his Hua. I had control of him. The rush of energy drove me another step past the emperor.

Ryko’s eyes found mine. “No! You swore—”

It was happening again. Just like the battlefield. Ryko tried to haul himself upright — I felt the strain in his energy — but his limbs were frozen into hunched obedience. Sweat dripped down his face as he struggled against the weight of power. Against me. Why did he struggle? It was his place to obey. With just a thought, I forced him lower and lower, until his face was pressed into the dirt.

His eyes were still locked on mine, a silent scream in them. I could make him do whatever I wanted.

A clear thought forced its way through the blinding power: I was doing what Ido had once done to me. Cold shame doused my anger. What was I thinking? Ryko was my friend. I sucked in a desperate breath and focused inward, groping for the link. Whatever it was, I had to find it. Break it. I had given him my word.

It was deep within me — a single golden thread of his Hua woven into the intricate tapestry of my own life patterns. A conduit for his life force that I could tap at any time through my anger or fear. But once I had grabbed it, how was I supposed to stop it? His bright pounding energy pulsed through me, caught in the rush of my own thundering Hua. It was like trying to hold back a torrent of water with my hands.

“Ryko, I can’t stop it!”

A figure rose from the ground. Straight for me. The impact knocked me sideways before the pain exploded through my jaw. I staggered and fell heavily to my bruised knees. The agony in my face and legs doubled me over as the link with Ryko snapped. I gasped into the sudden release. Through a blur of tears, I saw Dela standing over me, her hand still raised.

“Dela! No!” Yuso dragged her back a few steps. Nearby, Ryko was crumpled on the ground, gulping for air.

Kygo squatted beside me. “Lady Eona, are you all right?” His hand was on my back, the gentle weight steadying me.

My nod sent pain into my head. Cradling my jaw, I tentatively moved it from side to side. A man’s strength had been behind Dela’s blow.

“Lady Eona, forgive me.” Dela shook off Yuso’s hold and crouched before me.

I spat, tasting the copper warmth of blood. My tongue found the soft ragged sting of bitten cheek. “Did you have to hit me so hard?”

Dela bowed her head. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

I nodded again and winced. “At least you stopped it.”

“Was it the other dragons?” Kygo asked. “Did they come through the link you have with Ryko?” He saw my surprise. “I overheard you discuss it last night. Ryko was not over-quiet.”

“I don’t know what it was, Your Majesty.” Hoping to avoid more questions, I motioned to Ryko. The islander was still hunched over, breathing heavily. “Ryko, I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop it.”

“Are you all right?” Dela asked him, crossing the short distance on her knees.

“Stay back.”

I could not tell if the harsh words were aimed at Dela or me. Perhaps they were aimed at both of us. Dela stopped just short of him, stranded between her own need and his bristling rage. Ryko was a proud man, and he had just been felled by a woman and saved by a Contraire. He would not forgive either of us quickly.

Vida cautiously moved toward him. Ryko allowed the girl to help him straighten. His tight smile of gratitude pushed Dela up onto her feet and across the clearing, away from them.

Kygo stood and offered me his hand. “If you are able, we will move on. The sooner we free Lord Ido, the sooner you will get some control over these dragons.”

I nodded and clasped his hand. Yet some horrified part of me knew that it was not the dragons, or even Kinra, who had forced Ryko into the dirt.

It was me.

Once again, we set up a schedule of short rides and long walks. This time, however, we were heading back to the palace, Solly’s well-honed forest skills keeping us at a safe distance from any road or track. The one exception was a bridge over a swollen river. We could not risk fording the rushing waters, so we chanced a slippery peasant crossing made of rough planks and rope. With the thundering deluge only an arm’s length below, it took all of my nerve to edge over the slimy, mosscovered boards. The horses were not keen, either: each animal had to be coaxed across by a mix of Solly’s croons and Ryko’s iron grip.

As we moved downstream, heavy monsoon clouds tracked our progress. The thick gray expanse above us was like a smothering blanket of heat, but occasionally there was a current of cooler air that chilled sweat and promised rain and relief. The impending downpour added urgency to our search for the resistance group who, according to Vida, was entrenched in the area. They would give us a safe place to wait out the rains and mudslides, she said; more importantly, they would have news of Sethon’s army.

Ryko was quick to volunteer for scout duties and spent most of the morning ahead of us, looping around at intervals to report to Yuso. Only once did Dela try to talk to him; his cold courtesy plunged her into grim silence.

As before, I rode behind Kygo, and on the long, slogging walks he taught me the wisdom of Xsu-Ree. His father had insisted he memorize the Twelve Songs of Warfare, and as we pushed our way through the undergrowth, he recited them to me in the low tone of secrets, his voice audible only if we walked side by side, our heads close together. Each song was a series of wisdoms about an element of warfare. I did not wholly understand any of them, but a few caught my imagination: the Song of Espionage with its five types of spies, and the Song of Flames that told of five ways to attack by fire. Within the rhythms of Kygo’s deep voice, I heard the treacherous tread of double agents and the screams of men burning alive. With such skill, he could have been a Grand Poet.

“Do you recall the five fundamentals in the first song?” he asked at the end of his recitation.

It was near noon and we were walking parallel to the river, the water hidden by a thick stand of pine trees. For the time being, the steep mountainside had eased into a gentler slope, the scrubby woodland overrun by long-tailed pheasants. Bell crickets sang in the heat in a pulsing drone, and sprang out of the damp grass as we passed. A sign of good fortune, some would say. Kygo opened the collar of his tunic, a concession to the stifling humidity. I caught myself staring at the strong column of his throat, the smooth skin at the base marred by the rough, scabbed stitches that circled the gold setting of the pearl. I did not know if it was Kinra or the memory of the gem’s caress that drew my eyes. Those boundaries had become blurred.

A few lengths ahead of us, Tiron was leading Ju-Long, the battle-trained horse unmoved by the birds that bolted out of the undergrowth in front of him. A good way behind, Solly, Yuso, and Vida were leading the other horses in a straggling line. Dela walked by herself, her attention shifting between the path we were forging through the bushes and grass, and the red folio open in her hands.

I searched my memory for the five fundamentals, determined not to disappoint my teacher. “They are Hua-do, Sun/ Moon, Earth, Command, and Discipline.” My jaw ached when I spoke, but at least the swelling was beginning to recede.

“You learn faster than I do,” he said, smiling.

“But you understand them.” I shrugged against the damp cling of my borrowed gown. Sweat had gathered around the low neckline, but I did not want to wipe it away while he watched.

“You will understand, too.”

Although his firm belief bolstered me, I was not so sure a few days would be enough to grasp even the rudiments of Xsu-Ree’s wisdom. There was so much I did not know. All I had was the cunning of a salt slave and the reflexes of a liar.

He held back a branch as we pushed through a patch of spiny brushwood. “What is the Way of War?” he asked.

“The Way of War is the Way of Deception.” I glanced sideways at him, the little demon of mischief coming back to prod me. “I understand that one. From experience.”

He stopped, his smile deepening. “Indeed you do, Lord Eon.”

We stood, grinning at each other, cocooned in the hot thicket. Then something changed, as if the air contracted between us. He stepped closer. “You are not a lord now.”

I had to tilt back my head to meet his eyes. “No, I am—”

The rest of my words were lost in his intent gaze and the brush of his hand against my cheek.

For a moment, I smelled the green snap of tree gum on his fingers and the faint scent of smoky leather and horse. His skin was damp with sweat, the stark contours of his shaved head lost in a day’s dark growth. From someplace deep came an urge to reach up and run my hand across the soft bristle.

But I had seen that same look in Ido’s eyes. In the whipmaster’s eyes. Even in my master’s eyes. I stepped back.

“I am your Naiso,” I said.

It was a flimsy shield. As my emperor, he had the right to take whatever he wanted. Yet his hand dropped from my face, the intensity pulled back on an indrawn breath.

“My truth bringer,” he said.

I bowed my head. If our eyes met again, he would see the weakness in my armor. And my guilt.

“You are right,” he said. “I should not emulate my father.”

His words brought my head up, but he had already turned away. As he strode past the last of the overhanging trees, he ripped off a branch and flung it with such force that it startled a pheasant into whirring flight.

“You have a talent for irritating His Majesty,” Dela said behind me.

“It is my duty, isn’t it?” I said, not quite sure what had happened between us. “I’m his Naiso.”

“That kind of irritation is not usually one of the Naiso’s duties,” she said wryly. She touched my arm, urging me to walk by her side. “Then again,” she added, “he is only following his father’s example.”

I caught her shoulder, pulling her around to face me. “He mentioned his father, too.”

She nodded, as if she had overheard our conversation. “It was not common knowledge, but the old emperor did have a Naiso. She was his concubine and mother of his first-born son.”

“Lady Jila was his Naiso?” My mind struggled to recast the elegant beauty into political advisor.

Dela’s smile was sad. “And a most worthy one, although the old emperor did not listen to her warnings about his brother. She was a remarkable woman. No wonder the old emperor eschewed all others.”

We both looked at the straight-backed figure of Kygo ahead. “I am not going to be his concubine,” I said fiercely.

“You are missing the point,” Dela said. “Lady Jila was not just a concubine. Certainly, she had the power of her body, but she also had much more.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know. It is something you must come to yourself.” She held out the red folio, her face somber. “Your ancestress should have considered the dangers of such power.”

“Have you found something?”

She stroked the red leather binding and the rope of pearls in her palm clicked in response. “This is not Kinra’s journal of her union with the Mirror Dragon.”

I closed my eyes, the disappointment like a bright pain in my head.

Dela took my hand and squeezed it gently. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you were hoping for some guidance. I don’t think there will be any clues to your link with Ryko, either.”

I returned the pressure; Ryko would be even more unhappy at such news, and I knew it pained Dela to hurt him.

“What is the journal about, then?’

She lowered her voice. “It is not clear yet, but I think it tells of some kind of conspiracy. It must have been dangerous information, since Kinra felt it was necessary to write most of it in such a difficult code. And I have also discovered an entry that is not in Kinra’s hand.”

“Whose hand is it?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. It is not signed in any way. It is little more than a few lines right at the very back.” She paused. “Eona, it notes Kinra’s execution. For treason. I do not know what she did, but Emperor Dao had her killed for it.”

Our eyes met. Within that glance was a whole conversation: my shame and fear of discovery, her grave acknowledgment, and the decision to keep the information between us.

“Is this why you will not touch her belongings?” she asked.

“She was a traitor,” I whispered, knowing such dishonor would be enough for Dela. She did not need to know about the Imperial Pearl or the pull of Kinra’s energy.

“It is a burden I wish you did not have to bear.” She touched the red leather again, delicately tracing the three long gouges in the cover. “Kinra was Emperor Dao’s lover.”

Was this what I felt through Kinra’s swords? Love? Yet it was violent and angry and full of death.

“And she had another lover,” Dela continued. “The unnamed man. It seems her downfall lies in the nexus of this triangle. As I decipher the text, I will bring it to you.”

“Thank you.”

But her attention was on the scrub wood ahead. Kygo had stopped walking, his hand on his sword hilt. Tiron was tugging on Ju-Long’s bridle, pulling the big horse back around.

Then we saw what they had already seen — Ryko, running toward us, someone small slung over his shoulder.

The islander lifted his fist.

The sign for Sethon’s army.