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.
CHAPTER EIGHT
RYKO’S FIST PUNCHED three fast signals: twenty-four, on foot, northbound.
Crouching, I pulled Dela down into the grass and scanned the woodland behind the islander, every part of me focused on finding movement. My eyes caught on the quick flip of a pheasant tail, a branch bobbing in the hot wind, the shift of light between leaves.
“I can’t see any soldiers,” I whispered.
“What’s Ryko carrying?” Lady Dela said. “Is that a child?”
“Lady Eona!” We both spun around at Yuso’s low call. Beyond him, Vida and Solly were struggling to turn the horses.
“Make for those trees,” the captain said, pointing to a thick copse at the steeper edge of the slope.
I knew I should move, but something about Ryko’s small passenger held me still. His presence was almost like a taste in my mouth. Ryko had reached the emperor, and the two men were running side by side through the grass. The islander was losing momentum, his big chest heaving under the strain of his squirming burden. Whoever was slung over his shoulder did not come willingly. Behind them, Tiron had finally faced Ju-Long in the right direction. He dragged the horse into a reluctant trot.
“Lady Eona, you must go now!” Yuso ordered.
Ryko’s head jerked to one side—a nasty punch in the face from his passenger. He stumbled and lost his grip on the child. They both hit the ground and rolled in the long grass, legs and arms flailing. Kygo slowed and turned back. With easy strength, he pulled the child upright, but jumped back from the frenzied kicks and punches. Free of the emperor’s hold, the boy whipped around to face us, his hair half unraveled from a high-bound queue.
My heart tightened with sudden foreboding. I knew that tender curve of cheek and frail shoulder.
“That’s Dillon.” I stood up for a better view.
“Lord Ido’s apprentice?” Dela said, rising to peer at the boy, too. “What is he doing here?”
But I had a more pressing question on my mind.
“Can you see the black folio? Does he still have it?”
The last time I had seen Dillon, he had attacked Ryko and me and wrenched the black folio from my keeping. He had thought he could trade the book to Ido in return for his life. The poor fool did not realize it held more than the secret of the String of Pearls—it held the way for royal blood to enslave us and our dragon power.
No one but Ido and I knew it, and I could still hear the Dragoneye’s last, urgent words to me at the conquered palace. Anyone with the blood can bind us. Find the black folio, before Sethon does.
Merciful gods of heaven, I prayed, let Dillon still have the folio.
“I don’t see it,” Dela said, quick to understand. “It’s not there!”
A glimpse of dark leather sent dizzy relief through me. “No, he’s got it. Under his sleeve. See!”
My shrill triumph carried across to Dillon. His eyes fixed on me, his face widening into a scream. “Eona!” He ran a few steps, his hands beating the air. “See, see, I found her.” He struck himself in the head. “See!” His fist slammed into his skull again. “It’s Eona. See! It’s Eona!” Both fists pounded into his forehead, over and over. Although we stood at least fifty lengths from him, we could hear the dull thud of each blow.
Beside me, Yuso curled three fingers into a ward-evil. “Is he possessed?”
“No, Sun Drug,” I said, remembering the rage that had overtaken me with just a few doses. “Ido tried to kill him with it.”
Dela’s hand covered her mouth. “Poor child.”
“If he doesn’t shut up, he’ll bring the whole army do
wn on us,” Yuso said, even as Kygo caught Dillon by the shoulder and clapped his hand over the boy’s mouth, muffling his screams to muted shrieks. Yuso pushed me back a step. “Get to cover,” he ordered, then ran to help his emperor.
Ryko had already crawled over to the struggle and was dodging Dillon’s vicious kicks as he grabbed for the boy’s legs. Tiron looped Ju-Long’s reins over a nearby tree, obviously intending to join the fray.
“They’re going to hurt him,” I said.
Dela tugged my sleeve. “Come, we must get to safety.”
“No.” I broke free and ran toward the three men struggling to contain Dillon. My breath came in hard gasps, more from fear than from the desperate sprint. Dillon’s ruined mind would push him past surrender; he would force them to hurt him.
I ducked around the knot of men, trying to find a way to Dillon. Across his writhing body, Ryko’s eyes met mine in clear communication. Still insane. The moment of understanding was as brief as a heartbeat, but my spirit lifted. Perhaps all was not lost between us. And perhaps all was not lost for Dillon. I launched myself into a gap between Yuso and the emperor.
“Dillon, it’s me,” I yelled. My hand grazed the boy’s shoulder. “It’s Eona. Stop fighting.”
“I told you to get back,” Yuso snarled. “Tiron, get her to safety.”
The guard ran up behind me. I dodged and searched for another opening in the shift of straining, sweaty bodies.
Yuso had one of Dillon’s shins clasped to his chest, his other hand trying to catch the boy’s wild punches. A pale flash flicked up from the boy’s forearm—the rope of guardian pearls, its end curled back like a whip above the black folio. It lashed out at Kygo, but Yuso deflected it with his fist. With breathtaking speed, it flailed Yuso’s hand, lifting skin and blood. The guard recoiled, cursing. Ryko clamped down Dillon’s other leg and arm, and Kygo locked his arms around the boy’s chest, his own head craned back to avoid the pearls and the boy’s frenzied head-butts. With savage intensity, Dillon bucked against the brutal hold on his body.