Eona: The Last Dragoneye

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

SETHON PACED IN front of me across the small central dais. He had placed me at the base of his throne again, so that everybody could see the Dragoneye at his feet. He had removed his armor and undertunic and wore only trousers and boots, his scarred, heavily muscled torso streaked with sweat from the heat and the relentless afternoon sun. From where I knelt, I could smell the stink of his anticipation.

“Strip him,” he said to the waiting guards.

Kygo lifted his head at the command. I knew he did not dare make any other move. He had already struggled once against his guards — breaking one man’s jaw — and his rage had earned Dela ten strokes of a cane across her back. I glanced at the Contraire on her knees behind him, shivering with pain, her pale shoulders scored with red welts. Sethon had promised that if Kygo struggled again, I would be next.

Deftly, the two guards cut the leather bindings that held Kygo’s armored vest in place and pulled it from his body. Then the knife sliced through his close-fitting tunic. He fixed his eyes grimly on the horizon as the wet, clinging cloth was peeled off his skin, baring his torso. I heard Sethon’s sharp intake of breath at the clear sight of his prize. Without the high collar around it, the pearl seemed even larger, its gold claw setting dug deep into Kygo’s flesh. When the pearl was removed, it would take half of his throat, too.

Sethon knew the value of creating a spectacle. I had seen it at the palace when he had killed Kygo’s mother and baby brother before a baying pack of soldiers. Now I saw it as he prepared to take the pearl. He had ordered the canopy removed, and sent the flagmen and his retinue below so they would not obstruct the view of the soldiers who surrounded the command post in a dizzying mosaic of color. Apart from his prisoners and their guards, the only other men on the platform were High Lord Tuy, the physician, and Yuso. I wondered why Sethon kept the captain so close; perhaps to taunt us with the source of our betrayal. Sethon did not waste any opportunity to cause pain.

With their task complete, the two guards bowed and backed away, one holding Kygo’s armor, the other the shredded tunic. Dela did not look up as they passed. I gritted my teeth, remembering the hooting enjoyment of the mob as she had been beaten. Kneeling beside her, Ryko was all tense muscle and furious eyes. But what could he do? Each of them had a guard, and we were surrounded by thousands of men. Beyond Ryko, Tozay’s attention was fixed on the sprawled body of Ido at the base of the dais. The Dragoneye was flanked by two watchful hunters and still in the shadow world. He was so close I could see the rise and fall of his shallow breaths and the slow beat under his jaw. Like the others, he had been stripped of his leather armor, and a bloodied tear in his tunic sleeve showed the edge of a clotted wound. Tozay glanced up at me, shrewd eyes questioning. He was looking for hope. But he would not find it in Ido. Even if the Dragoneye did wake, Sethon would make me compel him.

Resolve hardened within me. I had to break Sethon’s compulsion, or Kygo and the others would be dead within a quarter bell. Kygo had once told me that the twelve stitches that had sewn the pearl into his flesh had been the worst pain he had ever endured. Surely Sethon would be overwhelmed by such pain, too. Even if it was just for a moment. That was my one chance to break his hold on me. It was a huge gamble, and it also meant waiting until Sethon had ripped the pearl from Kygo’s throat. Yet I could see no other way. Twelve breaths and twelve stitches to break the compulsion and then heal Kygo. Less than a minute. Was it even possible? But I had to try.

We were all on death ground.

“Hold him down,” Sethon ordered.

Although Kygo did not struggle, he did not comply, either. It took all three soldiers to force him to his knees. Two knelt beside him and locked his outstretched arms against their chests. The third knelt behind him, on his calves. I saw the agony widen his eyes as the man’s full weight settled on his shinbones.

Sethon stood on the edge of the dais. He held one of Kinra’s swords; the other was still in the sheath hung on the other side of the throne from where I knelt. So tantalizingly close. But until I freed my hands from the pearl rope, it might as well have been a thousand lengths away.

Sethon raised the sword he held to the soldiers below us. The sun, low in the sky behind him, cast the shadow of his exultation across his prisoners. Thousands of voices rose in jubilation, the screams and whistles so loud they startled the carrion birds into flapping, cawing protest.

Sethon smiled as the harsh duet of man and bird quieted. “The Imperial Pearl is mine!” he yelled, the deep resonance of his voice cutting through the last of the calls. He pointed the curved blade at Kygo. “The resistance is defeated once and for all.”

The men cheered again. With a measured pace, Sethon stepped down from the dais and crossed the platform to Tozay.

“We have their general!” Tozay did not blanch as the sword tip stopped a finger-length from his face. Whooping excitement rose from below. Sethon waited until it subsided, then walked across to Ryko. “The islander spy.” Once again, he waited until the shouts dropped away. Three steps took him to Dela. “And the travesty that is the eastern Contraire.” She flinched as he turned to the crowd and raised the sword again.

The answering roar surged and formed into a chant. “Kill! Kill! Kill!”

“Your Majesty,” one of the hunters called through the building frenzy.

Sethon swung around. “What?”

The hunter bowed over his bent knee. “Lord Ido is rousing. Do you wish me to send him back to the shadow world?”

“Silence!” Sethon bellowed at the crowd. “Silence!” The chanting died away to a few shrill calls.

I leaned forward. Ido’s breathing had deepened and, under his lids, his eyes moved as if he dreamed. Wake up, I urged. Wake up.

Sethon smiled, his scar pulling at his skin. “He can join the festivities. I will show the men an emperor who can bring two Dragoneyes to their knees.”

High Lord Tuy half-rose from his chair at the side of the dais. “Brother,” he said. “You saw Lord Ido’s destruction of the battlefield. Perhaps it would be more circumspect to keep him in the shadow world.”

Sethon stared at Tuy for a moment, then motioned to Yuso with the sword. “Tell my brother about Lady Eona’s control of Lord Ido.”

Yuso rose from his knees on the other side of the dais and bowed. “It does not use the power of the dragons, High Lord Tuy.”

Now I knew why Yuso was still here; as a guide to my power. At least, what he knew of it.

“You see, brother: no dragons, no threat,” Sethon said. “I have total control of Lady Eona, and she will control Ido.”

He gestured to the physician waiting near Kygo. The portly man gave a stiff bow then hurried across the platform, his red lacquered box clutched against his chest. He bent over Ido and lifted one of his eyelids, exposing a glazed amber eye.

“He is near waking, Your Majesty.” The man’s voice was high with nerves. “He should rouse as soon as I use the elixir of breath.”

Sethon strode back toward me, his face avid at the prospect of Ido wakening under his control. “Do it.”

With shaking hands, the physician removed a small porcelain bottle from the box and pulled the stopper. The edge of a harsh scent burned the back of my throat. The bottle was thrust under Ido’s nostrils. Gasping a ragged breath, the Dragoneye jerked back his head. His eyes opened, each black center like a pinpoint.

“Lady Eona,” Sethon said. “Compel Lord Ido’s power.”

I fought the command, straining to block the force that gathered my power. The physician grabbed his red box and scrambled back as Ido hauled himself onto his feet. I felt his Hua leap within him as he groped for the energy world. Sethon’s compulsion slammed my power through him. The force beat back Ido’s call to his dragon and locked his body into a crouch. His frantic heartbeat slid under mine, both rhythms trapped inside Sethon’s — and my — compulsion. Beyond him, Ryko screamed and doubled over beneath the press of power.

For a moment, everything was silent.

Slowly Ido raised his eyes and took in the platform. “Not what I was hoping for,” he rasped.

“Welcome back, Lord Ido,” Sethon said. He kicked the Dragoneye in the ribs. Ido slumped forward as a roar of excitement rose from the soldiers. “Make him bow to me, Lady Eona.”

The command reached through me into Ido and slammed his forehead to the platform, forcing a groan from him.

Sethon pressed his booted foot on Ido’s neck. He smiled at his brother. “You see, I am the master of the last two Dragoneyes.” He raised his voice into a battle cry. “I will never be defeated!”

The soldiers, still caught in their bloodlust, chanted, “Never defeated, never defeated!”

High Lord Tuy bowed and sank back into his chair. Sethon lifted his boot and looked at me. “Get him up on his knees,” he commanded.

The blood energy lifted Ido’s head and chest from the platform and held him upright. He swayed, the struggle against the compulsion rippling through our link.

“I see that Lady Eona has restored you completely, Lord Ido.” Sethon reached over and drew his thumb across the thin nose and smooth modeling of cheekbone and jaw. The Dragoneye’s nostrils flared at his touch, but he could not pull away. Sethon closed his fist. “I am glad you are back to your former self. We can start again.” The sudden crack of bone against bone jerked Ido’s head to one side.

Sethon grabbed his hair and pulled his head upright again. “Is that fear in your eyes, Lord Ido?”

“It is disgust,” Ido said.

Sethon laughed. “Brave words.” He motioned to the two hunters. “If Lord Ido moves, send him back to the shadow world.” The two men bowed in compliance.

I felt a rise of savage hope — Sethon was not so sure he could hold us both in his power.

“Come, Lady Eona,” he said. “You can watch one of your lovers die.”

He yanked me to my feet and pulled me off the dais, steering me toward Kygo. We stopped in front of Ryko, still bent double and panting.

“What is wrong with him?” Sethon said.

I pushed all the hate I held for him into my silence. I was not going to offer Sethon anything, let alone information about my power.

Sethon turned to Yuso. “What do you know of this?”

Yuso bowed. “When Lady Eona compels Lord Ido, the islander can feel it. Even the most intimate of energies. I believe it goes the opposite way, too.”

“Really?” Sethon smiled at me. “We will test it later.” He shoved me to my knees a few lengths from Kygo and called over one of the hunters. “Watch over Lady Eona.”

Although I registered the hunter’s hot hand on the back of my neck, all of my being was focused on Kygo — and his on me. Sweat dripped from his forehead and temples, and every line of his face was tight with fear, but I saw the fierce hope in his eyes, and I gave a tiny nod. I will try, I will try, I told him with my heart.

And then Sethon stepped between us. Kygo met his scrutiny with a steady gaze.

“So, nephew, it comes to this,” Sethon said. He bent and stroked the pearl with a thick forefinger, his triumph releasing in a long breath.

“The throne and the land is my right,” Kygo said evenly, although he tilted his chin away from his uncle’s caressing hand.

“Your right?” Sethon shook his head. “I should have had the throne long ago instead of your feeble father.”

“My father nurtured this land,” Kygo said. “You have already torn it apart for your own glory.”

“The same could be said for you and your attempts on my throne.” Sethon glanced at the physician waiting nearby. “Is everything prepared? I want this to be quick. Twelve stitches, in no more than twelve breaths. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The man’s grip on the needle and gold thread shook as if he had palsy. “But it is in the throat, Your Majesty. It will be painful and if you move, I may not—”

“I will not move,” Sethon snapped. “Wait on the dais for me.”

The physician bowed and retreated to the small stage.

Sethon motioned to the soldier behind Kygo. “Brace his head.”

I felt my whole body clench. The man — an older soldier— cupped Kygo’s chin and forehead and pulled his head back. Kygo tensed as Sethon raised Kinra’s sword.

“Naiso,” he breathed.

I shuffled forward on my knees, but felt the hunter’s warning hand on my shoulder.

Kygo’s voice cracked. “Look after the land.”

I nodded. His face blurred through my tears.

“Keep him still,” Sethon ordered the man holding Kygo’s head. “I do not want to damage the pearl.”

The soldier pulled Kygo back more firmly against his chest. “Forgive me, prince,” he whispered.

Kygo paled. “You are killing your king,” he said.

Sethon rested the tip of Kinra’s sword at the edge of the pearl. The steel would finally have what it craved.

“Eona.” Kygo looked past the blade to find me. “It was never just the power. You know that, don’t you?”

Before I could nod, the raw love in his eyes dilated into shock as Sethon pushed the tip of the blade into his throat. His sharp inhalation rasped with wet agony as he twisted against the grip of his guards. I cradled his gaze in mine, every slice into his flesh tearing through my spirit. Blood gushed over his bare chest and down the steel.

Sethon pulled the pearl free. ”I have it!” He dropped Kinra’s sword, blood spraying as it spun and landed next to Kygo’s feet.

The men below us roared. All I could see was the gaping wound in Kygo’s throat. His three guards released his arms and legs and jumped back as his body folded heavily onto the platform. Motionless. Then his chest moved, the soft wet sound of his breath the most precious sound I had ever heard.

Sethon triumphantly held up the pearl. He turned, and in a few strides was up on the dais and in the gilded chair. Everyone’s attention was on him as he pressed the pearl against the hollow of his throat.

“Now,” he ordered the physician. “Quick.”

He pushed his body back in the chair and braced.

Twelve stitches. Twelve breaths.

I gathered my rage and my Hua, waiting for Sethon’s pain. Waiting for the first stitch. My best chance. Sweat gathered under my arms and at the small of my back. On the dais, Sethon’s hands tightened around the arms of the chair. I heard him grunt as the needle pierced his flesh. The shock of pain resonated through his clamp of control around my power. Ryko’s head lifted — he had felt it, too.

With all my strength I strained against the blood force. The grip shivered, flexed, then clamped down on me again. Too strong.

Another stitch rippled into the dark energy. I threw all my Hua against it, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. It shifted, then closed once more. I couldn’t break through.

The pool of blood was growing around Kygo’s throat. How many breaths had passed? Five, six? I was running out of time and chances.

“Eona!” Ryko’s call dragged my eyes from Kygo’s laboring chest. “Use me. Like you did outside the palace.”

His guard pushed him down and pressed a knee on his back. “Shut up.”

My mind groped for his meaning.

His Hua! He meant his life-force funneled through our own link. He was not caught in the folio’s dark energy or dragon power. The possibility surged through my despair, bright and sharp. Yet at the palace, I had nearly killed him.

Another stitch spiked its pain through the compulsion.

“Ryko, no,” Dela pleaded.

“I will not see you die, Dela,” he said. “Eona, use it!”

“It will kill you,” I said.

“We are all dead if you don’t.” His voice checked as the guard shoved his knee harder into the islander back, forcing his chest to the platform. Doggedly, he raised his head again. “My choice, Eona!”

His choice, but I was the one who would take his life. I could not do it.

“Eona, honor me.”

I looked into the fierce warrior pride in his face. Honor and duty: the heart of Ryko. He was giving us his heart. I nodded. He smiled with grim satisfaction. Bracing himself, he turned his head to Dela. Her soft moan broke into a sob.

I took a deep breath, poised for Sethon’s pain. It came — shuddering through the blood force, a tiny lessening of the folio’s grip. With a prayer to any god who listened, I reached for Ryko’s Hua.

His pulsing life-force roared through me with a torrent of strength that wrenched Sethon’s grip wide open. With a shriek through my blood, the rope of pearls spun off my wrists, dropping the black folio into my lap. I felt my link with Ryko unravel and snap, leaving a deep tear within me that ached with loss.

I heard Ido’s roar of exultation and felt the pounding return of my own power. We were free. But all I could see was Ryko’s dead body slumping to the ground.

As Dela screamed, I felt Ido unite with his dragon. My skin stung with the burn of a fast rising wind, the taste of Ido’s power within it.

Sethon sat up. “Stop them!” He knocked the physician aside, his hand holding the half-stitched pearl to his throat. “Hunters, stop Lady Eona! Stop Ido!”

The hunter behind me grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. I glimpsed yellowed teeth clenched in effort, then his hand reached for the pulse under my jaw. Frantically, I groped for the black folio and threw it at his face. The rope of white pearls snapped out straight then curled back, whipping him across the eyes. Screaming, he let go of me, blinded by blood. The book arced and dropped, sliding across the boards.

I launched myself at Kygo, dread propelling me into a skidding, scrambling crawl. Was I too late?

Within the drum of my heartbeat another pressure was building. Familiar and chaotic — the ten bereft dragons. They were coming, called by the released pearl. Another terror shredded my breath: all twelve dragons would soon be together, and they would make the String of Pearls. If we did not direct their power into renewal, it would rip the land apart.

The searing rise of Ido’s power suddenly stopped. I looked over my shoulder, praying he had not fallen to a hunter. The Dragoneye was grappling with his guard, punching the man savagely in the ribs. The hunter broke away and drew a long knife from an ankle sheath. He lunged, but Ido caught his forearm and twisted it brutally against the elbow joint. The knife dropped.

A wail split the air, the desolation within it chilling me. Dela’s heart cry. Two guards held her back from Ryko’s body. Her face was a fearsome mask — all howling mouth and wild eyes. She punched and clawed, lurching toward Ryko with the berserk rage of grief. Taking advantage of the diversion, Tozay rammed into his guard’s legs. The man dropped to his knees, his sword swinging upward. With ruthless precision, Tozay grabbed the sword hilt and slammed the edge of the grip into the man’s chin, knocking him senseless.

“Lady Eona, do you need help?” he yelled, yanking the weapon from the man’s slack grasp.

“No. Help Dela.”

Raising the sword, he charged the two guards struggling to contain the Contraire.

I spread both hands on Kygo’s chest, feeling for his heartbeat through the sticky wash of blood. His eyes were shut and an ominous pallor bleached his skin. Be alive, I prayed. Be alive. A slow thud flipped under my fingertips: a heartbeat.

“Brother, get the black book,” Sethon yelled.

High Lord Tuy rose from his seat beside the dais. I cursed; I should have picked up the book. Without it, the dragons could not be released.

“Tozay!” I yelled. He broke away from his opponent and swung around. “Get the folio!”

He nodded, ducking a wild punch.

The flash of a blade drew my eyes back to Sethon. He had pulled Kinra’s other sword from the sheath slung on the back of the throne. Pausing for a moment to find his target, he leaped off the dais, straight for Ido. The pearl flapped obscenely at his throat, only half attached.

“Ido!” I screamed. The Dragoneye rolled away from the limp hunter and scrabbled up onto his feet, the bloodied long-knife in his hand. I jabbed my finger at the oncoming danger. “Sethon!”

He backed up, tensing to meet Sethon’s running attack.

It was all I could do; I had to heal Kygo. His heart was barely beating.

With a desperate breath, I plunged into the celestial plane. The platform around me convulsed into iridescent energy, the bright colors stretching and breaking in frantic, jagged patterns. Under the bright flow of Hua in my hands, Kygo’s meridians were dark and stagnant, only a flicker of silver in each point of power. The Mirror Dragon shrieked, her massive crimson body above the platform. The golden pearl at her throat thrummed with an ancient song of renewal, its luminous surface pulsing with runs of gold flame. Higher in the sky, the blue dragon circled, his own pearl alive with blue fire. The approach of the other ten dragons pressed around us like a terrible weight, thickening the air.

I called the Mirror Dragon, and opened myself to her power, my heart’s plea joining her thrumming song. Heal him, please heal him. She shrieked again, the sound blending into the rushing power that roared through my pathways. Cinnamon flooded my mouth. Was this the last time I would taste the glorious spice of our union? The bittersweet thought rose through me and locked in my throat like a cry. She lowered her massive head, the great dragon eyes only lengths from mine. Their ancient gaze pulled me into the neverending cycle of life and death, sun and moon, chaos and balance. So old. Time to renew. Your pearl will be returned, I silently promised, and felt her soaring joy. Yet the loss to come dug darkness into my spirit.

We sang together, knitting the earth’s Hua into Kygo’s slashed flesh, fanning the tiny flicker of his life-force into bright flowing energy and a strong, beating heart. Our beautiful harmony wove sweet healing into every wound and eased my own aching spirit with a gentle embrace of golden power. Under my hands, Kygo’s chest jerked, the sudden fill of air erupting into a hacking, gasping cough.

A booming shock wave of hot, spicy air ripped me out of the energy world. Ten huge dragons burst onto the plain around the platform, a rainbow circle of gleaming hides, heavy muscle, and thick manes. Real flesh-and-blood bodies as big as palace temples. I gaped at the vivid orange Horse Dragon straight ahead of me, the luminous apricot pearl beneath his chin glowing and humming. Beside him, the Goat Dragon stretched his long neck, the silver scales rippling with reflections like sinuous water, his pearl singing, too. The warmth of his lemon breath scented the air. They were all on the earthly plane, visible to everyone. It was not meant to be possible, yet every man on the platform was frozen into stunned awe. Even Ido and Sethon had broken apart from their savage struggle. The only movement was Dela, rocking Ryko’s body against her chest.

I spun around, trying to take in the huge circle of beasts: the green Tiger Dragon, the dawn pink Rabbit Dragon, the shimmering purple Ox Dragon. Then a gap: the domain of the Rat Dragon. And, in the east, another gap for the Mirror Dragon. They had not yet joined the circle. We still had time.

Shrill, throbbing screams from the ground broke the awed silence. I looked down as the Ox Dragon shifted the coil of his massive tail, exposing scores and scores of mangled bodies beneath it, the muscular movement catching more shrieking men in its sweep. My stomach heaved at the mess. The ten beasts had materialized on top of Sethon’s army. Half of them were crushed under dragon flesh. The other half were running from the beasts. Among the fleeing figures, I saw resistance prisoners. Thank the gods, some of them had got away.

Kygo lifted his head, taking in the great beasts around us. “Eona, what’s happening?”

“The String of Pearls,” I whispered.

“What?” He sat up, the sudden movement draining the new color from his face.

I caught his arms, steadying him. He did not know the truth about the dragons or the pearl. Somehow, I had to make him understand. And, I hoped, help me.

“Kygo, listen,” I said. “There is no bargain between us and the dragons. There never was a bargain. The Imperial Pearl is their egg. We stole it as ransom for their power. Now they need it back. They need to renew the land.”

“No bargain? Why wasn’t I told?” He twisted around again, staring up at the Ox Dragon. The beast turned his massive horned head toward us, the shimmering purple scales of his arched neck and broad forehead softening into lavender around his long muzzle. Beneath the silky flow of mauve beard, his pearl thrummed with urgency, its surface alive with violet flame. “How do you know all this?” Kygo demanded.

There was no time to explain Kinra’s memories and the black folio. I tightened my grip on his arms, trying to press the truth into him. “Kygo, trust me. If you love your land as much as you say, we need to give the pearl back to the dragons.”

He stared at me. “It is the symbol of my power.”

“It is also the symbol of our greed,” I said. “Kygo, I trusted you with the folio. Please, trust me with this!”

He searched my face, his hesitation like a tight band around my heart. Then I saw it: a wondrous leap of faith in his eyes. “What do we need to do?”

I bowed my head for a moment, overcome by relief. “We have to get the folio and the pearl before the dragon circle is closed.”

His hand went to his throat. “This is the portent coming true, isn’t it? The Hua of All Men and the dark force.” His face tensed as he felt the smooth hollow between his collarbones. “You healed me!” His eyes darkened as he realized what that meant. For him. For us. “Eona, what have you done?”

“You were dying,” I said. He pulled away from me but I caught his hand. “Kygo, if we give the pearl back, everything will change. I won’t have any power over you. I won’t have any power at all.” Even just saying the words opened a dark hole of loss into my heart. No dragon. No power. I looked around at the magnificent beasts that surrounded us.

Make it right.

He cupped my cheek. “You would give up your power?”

A roar of fury broke us apart.

“Is this the String of Pearls?” Sethon yelled at Ido. “Did you do this?”

He lunged at the Dragoneye, driving him back a few steps. The thrall across the platform was at an end. Behind us, the clang of steel rang out, pulling me around to face Tozay and Tuy. The two men were trading vicious blows, fighting for an opportunity to grab the folio on the ground between them.

Two guards ran toward us, weapons raised. I snatched up Kinra’s sword, its blaze of anger driving me to my feet. Kygo dived for a fallen sword near Dela. He scooped it up and rolled into a crouch, the stiff lock of his spine registering the body in Dela’s arms.

He turned to me, his face stricken. “Ryko’s dead?”

“He gave me all his Hua,” I said. “To break free of Sethon.”

For a brief moment, Kygo’s eyes closed. But there was no time for grief; the two guards were upon us.

I swung Kinra’s sword at the stocky man coming at me. Our blades met, the impact resonating through all my joints. He had brute strength on his side. I disengaged and ducked to his left, managing a quick slash across his forearm on my way through. At least I was quicker. His companion sliced his sword at Kygo’s head. Caught in the crouch, Kygo smashed the blade aside, then surged to his feet, ready for the guard’s return. He was easily the better-trained man, but he wore no armor, not even a shirt that could catch a sword tip and afford a precious second.

My opponent pulled his bloodied hand away from the shallow cut. His eyes narrowed, his small mouth bunching as if he’d sucked a pickled plum. I smiled: not such an easy mark, after all. He sidestepped away from the blows ringing between Kygo and his comrade. I tracked his movement, watching for a sign he was about to attack. The flicker in his eye gave him away. He lunged into a volley of high, hard cuts — classic Monkey Dragon Third. I swung my blade into Ox Dragon First, the circling blocks holding back his hammering blows. His strength and anger pushed me backward, but he couldn’t break through. With a hiss of frustration, he disengaged.

At the periphery of my vision, I caught the feinting, lunging figures of Ido and Sethon. And another figure, edging toward them. I chanced a look; it was Yuso, his fist curled around the hilt of a small curved knife — a physician’s tool. Before I could scream a warning to Ido, the guard in front of me swung his sword into a vicious arc. I braced, recognizing the punishing form of Third Horse. He was going to batter me into submission. Kinra’s quick reaction angled my blade and deflected the heavy blow, but the weight behind it made me stagger. I was off-balance, and the soldier knew it. Desperately, I twisted around to meet him. Not fast enough. He had turned the sword, all of his momentum swinging the edge of the hilt at my head. My body tensed for the blow.

It didn’t come. I stumbled back a step and saw his face frozen in surprise. His hand spasmed, the sword clattering to the ground between us. He toppled slowly forward. Behind him, Dela jerked a sword free of his falling body. The blade was half sheathed in blood.

We both looked down at the fallen man.

“What do you need me to do?” Dela said. The grief in her face had hardened into deadly focus.

“Help Kygo and Tozay get the black folio.”

With a nod, she picked up the dead man’s sword, and whirled to help Kygo subdue the other guard. As I caught my breath, Yuso suddenly broke into a run toward Ido and Sethon. The Dragoneye could not hold out against both of them. I pushed everything I had into a desperate sprint across the platform. Sethon and Ido had caught each other’s weapon hands and stood nose to nose, each straining simultaneously to break the other’s grip and plunge his own blade home.

“Ido, look out,” I screamed.

Too late. With a harsh battle cry, Yuso charged into the center of the grapple. The collision knocked the two men apart. Sethon reeled backward. Ido crashed onto his hands and knees, his broad back unprotected. I forced one last spurt of speed into my burning muscles, but Yuso was already lunging into his attack.

Straight past Ido.

For a moment, it didn’t make sense. Then Yuso hooked his arm around Sethon’s neck and drove his blade into the man’s bare chest. Yuso wasn’t after Ido; he was trying to kill Sethon. With a physician’s knife.

Sethon swung Yuso off balance. Both men fell to the ground, Kinra’s sword flying out of Sethon’s hand and sliding across the boards. Ido rolled away from their thrashing bodies and hauled himself to his feet. Straight into my path. With no time to pull up, I slammed into his chest, the impact driving out all my air. With a grunt, he staggered back a step and caught me. I doubled over and gasped for breath.

“Were you coming to help me or kill me?” he said, halflifting half-dragging me farther away from the vicious fight on the ground.

I struggled out of his grasp. “Where’s the pearl?” I managed.

“Sethon still has it.”

I caught a flash of metal as Yuso plunged the tiny knife down again. It must have found its mark, because Sethon roared with pain and punched the captain in the side of the head, loosening his grip.

I finally drew in a full breath. “Can we use the lightning? Like the beach?”

“No,” Ido said. Around us, the shrieking thrum of the dragons was like the song of a thousand cicadas. “I don’t know what would happen if we called our beasts in the middle of this circle. And we’d risk destroying the pearl.”

We would have to get the Imperial Pearl the hard way. I tightened my hand around my sword and looked for an opening in the struggle before us.

Sethon slammed his elbow into Yuso’s face, then dived for his sword. Yuso slashed wildly, the too-small knife slicing across Sethon’s bare back in a crimson arc. He pulled back just as Sethon flipped over and swung Kinra’s sword at him, missing his chest by a hair’s breadth. Both men drew up into wary crouches. Breathing hard, they stood and faced one another, my position in their sightlines. I had lost my chance.

Sethon spun Kinra’s sword in his grip. “You’ve just killed your son,” he said. “And yourself.”

Yuso’s hand flexed around the knife hilt. “I am already dead.” He looked at me. “Lady Eona, this buys my son’s safety.”

I felt my whole body tense into expectation.

Yuso ran at Sethon, the short knife raised, his whole body open to attack. Sethon plunged Kinra’s sword into the captain’s chest. The thrust was so hard that I saw the tip emerge between Yuso’s shoulder blades and heard the thump of the hilt spring back against his breastbone. Yuso dropped his knife and grabbed the grip over Sethon’s hand, holding the sword and Sethon against his body. With a deep guttural groan, he swung Sethon around until the man’s back faced us. Sethon jerked at the hilt, trying to withdraw the blade.

“Do it,” Yuso gasped.

Ido sprang forward and drove his long knife up into Sethon’s sacral point, all of his strength behind the strike. Sethon screamed, his body arching, the shock to his Hua locking him against the knife. Ido twisted the blade upward.

“Shall we explore that pain?” he said against Sethon’s ear.

My innards froze; the words and tone were a perfect imitation of Sethon’s torture.

Ido jerked the blade again, forcing a moan from Sethon. “Exhilarating, isn’t it.”

He wrenched Sethon’s weight away from Yuso. Without the brace of the High Lord’s body, Yuso slowly folded to the platform and pitched to one side. The moonstone and jade hilt in his chest hit the wood, sending a shiver of pain through him.

With ruthless efficiency, Ido lowered Sethon to the ground, then rolled him onto his back. He scooped up Yuso’s fallen knife, pressed his foot across Sethon’s wrist, then drove the small blade through the man’s palm, staking him to the wood. I winced as Sethon broke into a long scream, his fingers spasming.

As though Sethon’s yell had roused him, Yuso lifted his head toward me, the effort cording the veins in his neck.

“Maylon,” he gasped. “His name is Maylon. ”

I kneeled beside him. “You betrayed us, Yuso. This is all your fault. Do you expect me to forgive you?”

His eyes focused blearily on Ido. The Dragoneye had pinned Sethon’s free arm with one knee. Sethon strained upward, but Ido punched him in the face with the hilt of the long knife, the impact slamming his head against the boards.

“Ido thinks you are like him,” Yuso said slowly. He coughed, spraying blood. “But you still have mercy in you, don’t you?” His breath sighed out into stillness.

Did I still have mercy? I felt no softness within my heart, and — may the gods help me — I understood the smile of enjoyment on Ido’s face. I rose and placed my foot on Yuso’s rib cage, wrenching Kinra’s sword from his dead body. The burn of her anger whispered its need. Take the pearl. I circled both swords up into readiness, the return of their full fury and strength like a homecoming.

I watched as the Dragoneye flipped the knife in his hand and leaned over Sethon. “What shall I carve into your chest?” His voice still mimicked the High Lord’s caressing tone. “‘Traitor’? ‘Bastard’? How about ‘Always a second son’?”

Sethon tried to pull away from the knife hovering above his breastbone. With an admonishing click of his tongue, Ido pressed the tip of the blade into Sethon’s flesh, dragging it downward in a wash of blood. Sethon screamed again, his head thrashing with pain.

With grim resolution, I walked over to the two men. Take the pearl. With every shuddering heave of Sethon’s chest, the gem rolled across the bloodied hollow between his collarbones, dangling from its four rough stitches. I could carve it from his throat. Feel him writhe and scream; revenge for Kygo’s agony.

“Get back!” I said to Ido.

I raised my sword.

“Wait,” Ido said.

He drove the long knife through Sethon’s other palm, forcing a sobbing scream from the man. Ido looked up at me. His smile was vicious and cruel and held the intimacy of a lover. “Enjoy.”

Sethon’s pain-filled eyes met mine as he strained to rip his hands free of the knives. For a moment, I held the sword tip over his throat. His lips drew back into the snarl of a cornered animal. He deserved the slowest death possible. He deserved pain and fear. But I could not do it. Yuso was right: I still had mercy. With a roar, I plunged both blades through his mutilated chest instead, the resistance of skin and bone jarring my hands.

Sethon gasped, his body lifting into one last thrash. The pearl rolled and settled into the hollow of his throat as the foul stink of his death release filled the air. I yanked one blade free, the man’s dead weight rising with the force and dropping back onto the platform. Swallowing my gorge, I sliced around the stitches and ripped the pearl free. Kinra’s swords had finally fulfilled their mission.

I opened my hand. The Imperial Pearl was heavy and hot— too hot to be holding just the last of Sethon’s body heat.

Ido wrenched the long knife out of Sethon’s palm and wiped the wet blade on his trouser leg. “That was almost as satisfying as I thought it would be.” He looked up at me, one eye squinting in censure. “Although somewhat prematurely ended.” He slid the cleaned knife into the side of his boot. “So where’s the folio?”

He followed my gaze across the platform. Kygo and Dela had killed or driven away the remaining guards and were now trying to scoop the black book from the ground, dodging the whip of white pearls. Dela held her ripped shirt like a net, ready to throw it over the writhing rope of gems. Behind her, Tozay sat slumped, his arm at an awkward angle. It was clear he was hurt. The dark shape of High Lord Tuy lay nearby. At least both brothers were dead.

“Kygo has the folio,” I said. “We can—”

Suddenly I could not speak. My senses were lost in a shock wave of pain that blasted every pathway within me. Kinra’s sword dropped from my grip. My other hand convulsed around the pearl, the gold claw setting slicing into my palm. Through a gray haze, I saw Ido strain backward, his mouth open in a scream, but I could hear only the howl of loss in my own head. The air pressed down around us, then exploded outward. Two huge dragon bodies — red and blue — boomed onto the plain, the backlash of energy knocking me to my knees.

The massive crimson body of the Mirror Dragon — twice the size of the male dragons — filled the eastern gap within the circle. She threw back her head and called, a high ululating sound that throbbed through her long throat. The gleaming fire of her red and orange scales rippled with every shift of muscle. Huge cartwheel eyes shut with effort as she closed the circle with her body and power. Beneath her chin, the gold pearl swelled and pulsed, the song within it soaring over the thrumming shriek of the eleven other dragon pearls.

“Eona,” I whispered, but I knew she could no longer hear me. She was on the earthly plane, and our link was gone. Everything had been scooped out of me. I was hollowed, powerless, and I could not move with the raw pain of it.

“No!” It was the husk of Ido’s voice, cracked and devastated.

With a roar, his blue beast answered the red dragon’s call, delicate wings extending as one opal claw lifted and raked the air.

I turned my head. All my bones had dried into stiff desolation. “Ido, I can’t call her.”

Ido’s body was a knot of agony, his fists pressed into his forehead. “They’ve closed the circle.” Panting, he slowly raised his head and scanned the dragons. “We don’t have much time.”