And it was becoming painfully apparent by our second session that balance was the essence of the Staminata.
“Make your moon palm flatter,” Ido ordered, beside me.
We were more or less alone—if two silent, invisible sentries ten or so lengths away could be called alone—and the morning heat had not yet descended. Even so, as I drew back my left hand I felt a trickle of sweat slide down my neck. I’d been holding the starting position for more than a full bell—a deceptively easy stance of palms faced out, knees slightly bent, and bare feet pressed into the earth—and my arms and legs were shaking with the strain. Ido held the same position. From the corner of my eye, I could see that he was sweating just as much, his bare torso slick with effort, although I could discern no trembling in his arm muscles. Just two days of travel rations and patchy rest had remedied the gaunt exhaustion in his body.
“Keep your eyes ahead and breathe. Let your mind trace the inner pathways,” Ido said. “And keep that palm flat.”
I refocused on the wild jasmine bush a few lengths in front of us and tried to turn my mind inward. All I could think of was the heavy perfume of the jasmine in my throat. And the itchy track of sweat down my back. And the fire that crept up my calf muscles.
And the hard press of Kygo’s lips against my hand.
I swayed, the sudden lurch of the world jolting me into an awkward half hop backward. Ido straightened, his break of the stance just as graceful as the hold.
“What happened?” he asked, running his hands through his sweat-soaked hair.
“I lost concentration.”
“Obviously. I meant, what did your mind throw in your way?”
I pushed away the image of Kygo. “Sweat and aching muscles.”
“At least your mind is concentrating on the moment.” He picked up his tunic. I looked away as he wiped his chest. “We’ll stop soon. We both need rest.”
I let out a relieved breath. We had started training as soon as Yuso had called a halt. Everyone else was either asleep or taking a short turn on guard duty.
Ido dropped his tunic back to the ground. “Give me your hands.” He held out his own, each wrist still ringed with the cut of rope.
Except for the two times I’d healed him, I had never touched Ido. He had, however, touched me. With force.
He saw my hesitation. “If I do something you don’t like, you can always slam me into the ground again.”
True. I wiped my hands down the bodice of my gown and held them out. He turned them over and very gently pressed each of his thumbs into the center of my palms.
“Do you feel that soft part in the dip, under the bone?”
I nodded.
“That is a gateway of energy.” He looked down, past the calf-high gathered knot of my hem. “There is one in each foot, too, in the soft center below the ball. Four gateways where the body can draw in Hua from the earth and everything around it. The fifth is in the crown of the head.”
“In the seat of the spirit?” I asked, watching him. “Where you have the dark gap.”
“No, above it,” he said shortly.
He released my moon hand and pressed his palm against the flat of his abdomen. Under his fingers, the vertical interlock of muscle on each side of the central meridian was carved in hard relief. “Behind the navel is where the five gateways are united. It is the center of balance and the focal point of Hua. It is called the Axis.”
He was still holding my other hand.
“The Axis?”
“Where all balance begins: physical, mental, and spiritual.”
He drew my hand down and pressed it against my own belly, over the Axis point. The thin cloth of the gown stuck to my damp skin.
“Behind there,” he said. “That is the place where Hua must be drawn. Do you feel it?”
“Yes.” But all I could feel was the warm weight of his hand covering mine.
“Breathe,” he said. “Center your inner awareness on that point. “
Looking over his shoulder, I focused on the jasmine bush, but my body felt like a single thundering pulse resonating through our hands. I drew in air and the scent of hours of exertion and control on his body, the earthy maleness mixing with the jasmine perfume. I looked up, my eyes flickering over the cut lip and flared nose. The pale gold of his eyes was almost engulfed by black pupil.
“Good,” he said tightly. “As you exhale, hold the Hua in the Axis.”
I breathed out, feeling our hands move together. He leaned closer, his head bent to mine.
“Are you sure you want to do that, Eona?”
“What?”
He licked his lips. “You are compelling me.”
“No, I’m not,” I said.
“Yes, you are.”
He drew my hand against his chest. Through the curve of damp muscle, I could feel his heartbeat quickening under my palm. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. His rhythm was in my own blood. I was compelling him, in a different way. A call, not a coercion.
“I’m sorry.” I tried to pull my hand free, but he locked it against his chest.
“I’m not complaining.”
I shook my head. It was wrong. A dark attraction. It felt even more wrong than hurting him. Yet it pushed me toward him, just as much as it pulled him to me. I snatched my hand away and stepped back, the subtle link breaking.
Ido released a long, ragged breath.
“That was some kind of Gan Hua, wasn’t it?” I said.
He touched his chest. “It would seem so.”
“I don’t know how to control it.” I grabbed his arm. “You have to teach me.”
He looked down at my desperate hold. “Don’t be afraid of your power, Eona. It is a gift.”
“It doesn’t feel like a gift. It feels out of control.”
“Of course it is out of control,” he said. “Gan Hua is chaos.”
“But it is dangerous,” I said. “In my candidate training—”
“That is nonsense fed to you by frightened men.” He dismissed the training with a flick of his hand. “We can distill Hua into either Gan or Lin—chaos or order—and neither force is intrinsically dangerous, or good or bad. They just are. The Dragoneye Council was full of fools.” He shook his head. “They never understood the extraordinary power that comes out of chaos. But you understand. You use Gan Hua in a way that I never thought possible. I only wish I had your ability.”
“But you used Gan Hua to go into your dragon.”
He rubbed his hand across his mouth. “A clumsy attempt compared to yours, and only as a last resort.”
“But how did you do it? How did you control it?”
He hesitated. “Pain is energy. I transferred it to my dragon and used Gan Hua to hold myself in the beast, away from what was happening to my physical body.”
For all the heat of the new day, a chill swept over my damp skin. “Is that why your dragon was in such agony?”
“I said it was a last resort.” His voice hardened. “And, as you saw”—he touched his crown—“the damage was not only to the dragon. I stayed too long and drew on too much of my dragon’s power without the requisite return.”
“I would never inflict such pain on my dragon,” I said.
“And yet you inflict pain on me and your friend Ryko,” he said. “It is easy to say ‘never,’ Eona. But you have already stepped over a line, and you did not even see it in your rush to get what you wanted.”
I glared at him. “You have no idea what I want.”
“Tell me, then.”
“I want to master Gan Hua. As quickly as possible.”
“For all your fear, you still want more power?” He smiled. “You are a true queen.”
“No, you don’t understand,” I said, twisting my hands together. “I need to master Gan Hua because the dragons are not immortal. At least, their power is not without end.”
He stilled. “What makes you say that?”
“There is a portent in the red folio. It says that when the Mir
ror Dragon rises, it is a sign of the end of the dragons.”
“What?” He grabbed my arm. “Show it to me. Now!”
“I know every word of it.” I tapped my head; it was inscribed upon my mind in fire. Slowly, I recited it:
“The She of the dragon will return and ascend
When the cycle of twelve draws to an end.
The She of the Dragoneye will restore and defend
When the dark force is mastered with the Hua of All Men.”
“Say that last line again,” Ido demanded.
I repeated it.
“Lady Dela and I think ‘the dark force’ means Gan Hua,” I added.
“Yes, that is what our ancestors called it.” His eyes scanned the clear space around us, his whole body tense.
“But we don’t know what ‘the Hua of All Men’ means.”
“I know what it means,” he said.
“What?”
He leaned closer until his lips were against my ear. “‘The Hua of All Men’ is the old name for the Imperial Pearl.”
I swayed as his words wrenched everything into a terrifying pattern of inevitability: the pearl—the emperor’s symbol of sovereignty—was the way to save the dragons.
I shook my head. “No. That cannot be.”
Ido’s grip tightened into support. “I have seen the phrase in ancient scrolls.”
Was this why Kinra had tried to steal the pearl from Emperor Dao—to save the dragons? It took another moment for the horror to build to its full meaning. If that was the reason for Kinra’s so-called treachery—the reason she risked everything to attack a king—then that meant the pearl had to come out of the emperor’s throat to save the dragons. It had to come out of Kygo’s throat. And that would kill him.
I looked up at Ido. “You are lying!”
“It is the truth, Eona.” His grim face was only a handspan from mine. “In the ancient records that have survived, one dragoneye could look after a province by himself. Now it takes all the dragoneyes to work the same level of energies. Dragon power is fading. And according to your portent, the Imperial Pearl is the way to save it.”
No. It could not be true.
Yet I had felt Kinra’s drive for the pearl. I had almost ripped it from Kygo’s throat twice under her thrall. Five hundred years ago, my ancestor and Lord Somo had tried to steal the pearl from Emperor Dao. Was I somehow locked into the same journey with Ido and Kygo?
No coincidence, Dela had said.
I tore my arm out of Ido’s grip. “I don’t believe you,” I whispered. “It is another of your sick games.”
Ido gave a harsh laugh. “This is no game, Eona. I am not lying. That is what the pearl was called.”
“Prove it.”
“All of the proof is locked in my library. But I swear; I have read it in some of the oldest scrolls.”
I pressed my hand over my mouth—there was a scream building within me that was five hundred years old. I had to find some way to prove Ido wrong.
He sucked in a sharp breath. “Does the emperor know about the portent?”
“Yes.”
“Then, if you value your life, do not tell him about this,” he whispered.
I turned away from the fear in his voice. There was too much truth in it. “You said there is proof in the ancient scrolls.”
“Yes.”
“Is it in the black folio?”
His silence gave me my answer.
I spun around. “Bring it to me.”
“No.” He stepped back. “Not yet. It is the only thing that guarantees my life. And Dillon is even more dangerous now. I will bring him and the folio to us when you have more control of your power. Then we can restrain him together.”
“Bring it now!”
“No. It is too soon.”
“Bring it!”
“No!” He braced; he knew what was coming.
The roaring fury of my Hua slammed through his pathways like a crashing wave, dragging his pounding heartbeat under mine. He staggered backward under its force then lowered his head, teeth clenched. I felt something gather within him: a sudden resistance that rose like a wall of rock. The collision of Hua against Hua dammed the rush of my power, jarring through me like a physical blow. I gasped as my grip loosened around his will.
“Eona, it is too soon to bring the folio. We are not strong enough,” he panted. Blood trickled from his nose. He had stopped me, but it was costing him.
I rammed my Hua into the barricade of power again. The strike recoiled through both of us, pushing me back a step and knocking him on to his knees. Another buffeting blow forced a grunt from him, but I could not break through. Throwing all of my fear-fueled rage into the rush of power, I rammed him once more. The pressure doubled him over, but he caught his weight on his hands, the strain ridging the tendons in his arms. His block still stood strong. He looked up, the silver sliding across his eyes.
“See. Not so easy this time, is it?” he said. “I can already hold you back.”
Ido had found a way to stop my compulsion. He was no longer starved, no longer taken unaware. I could not even reach for Ryko’s Hua to boost my power; I could feel the islander, but he was too far away.
And last time I had nearly killed him.
I stared into Ido’s face, his taunting smile bringing a barrage of memory. I had seen the same smile as he pressed the knifeedge of his Dragoneye compass deep into his own flesh. And after the King Monsoon, when he’d hit me. And, most sharply, I had seen it when he had driven his sword through Ryko’s hand.
A dark intuition quickened within me: there was another route to his will. One that I had stumbled across only minutes ago. A call in the blood that had drawn Ido toward me. But it had also drawn me toward him. A dangerous and double-edged weapon, made of pleasure and pain. I did not entirely understand it, but somehow I knew it would defeat him. He would be at my mercy.
Did I really want to have that kind of power over Ido? Yet he was already pushing against my Hua, looking for a way to turn it against me.
I had no choice. With a sob, I released my fury through the pathways of desire so newly blazed. Ido gasped as my power rolled over his defenses, burning away the silver in his eyes. The shock rocked his body forward. He collapsed flat on to the ground, his silent scream ripping through my Hua in a backlash of pained pleasure.
Ido’s will was mine for the taking, and I took it, fusing his hammering heartbeat to mine.
“Eona!” His voice cracked; part plea, part warning.
I forced his head up, the amber eyes wide and dark.
“Call Dillon,” I said.
His command to the Rat Dragon shifted through me like a hand sliding across my skin. The power reached, searched, found its goal. I felt Dillon’s hate respond, its sharp barbs clawing into Ido like a soldier’s grappling hook, anchoring the boy to his master and pulling him inexorably toward us. Dillon and the black folio were on their way.
Then the power curled back upon me, its razor edge sending a shiver of pleasure through my body.
Abruptly, I released my hold on Ido’s will. He slumped, the rasp of his breath loud in the sudden, eerie quiet. All the birds and clicking insects around us were silent as if they marked some irrevocable event.
Ido slowly raised his head, but I turned on my heel, unable to look him in the eye. I got as far as the jasmine bush, its white blooms hanging heavily in the hot air. The cloying perfume caught in my throat. I could still feel his presence in my Hua.
“Addictive, isn’t it, Eona?”
I knew I should ignore his soft voice. Just keep walking. Yet I stopped and looked over my shoulder. He was on his knees, the back of his hand stemming the flow of blood from his nose.
“What’s addictive?” I asked.
His smile was a caress. “Getting what you want.”
As I pushed my way through the bushes toward camp, my mind was caught in a loop of horror: the pearl, Kygo, Kinra, Ido, me, all of it circling around and around the red f
olio’s portent. I slapped past branches, feeling the sting as they lashed back against my skin. Was Ido telling the truth? A bird flew up from the bushes at my feet, screaming an alarm. No! I had to believe he was lying. The alternative was too terrible. I ground my teeth. His presence still hummed in my blood.
“Eona, are you all right?”
Kygo stopped in front of me, sword drawn; a tall blur through my tears. I reared back and lost my balance. He caught my arm with his free hand and held me upright, the strain digging his fingers into my flesh. Behind him, Caido and Vida crashed through the scrub, swords at the ready.
“What’s wrong?” Kygo said. “Did Ido do something? Ryko felt you compel him.”
My eyes locked on the pearl. The Hua of All Men.
“It was nothing.” I pulled my arm free. “Just training.”
Kygo lowered his sword and turned to Vida and Caido, sunlight sliding across the pearl in a shimmer of colors. “False alarm,” he said.
Caido scanned the bushes around us. “We shall escort you and Lady Eona back, Your Majesty.”
“No.” Kygo waved them away. “It is only a few lengths.”
They bowed and retreated through the bushes, leaving the smell of churned earth and the green snap of broken twigs.
Kygo resheathed his sword. “Are you sure you are all right?”
I stared down at my dirt-smeared feet, away from the lustrous power at his throat. Did Kinra try to steal the pearl in order to save the dragons? It would mean that the energy beasts had been losing their strength even in her time. I was so new to the Mirror Dragon I did not even know if she was diminished. The thought that she could be fading sent a piercing pain through my spirit.
I pressed my hand against my forehead. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you, Your Majesty.”
The pearl was too close to me. He was too close. What if Ido was right?
“I wanted to speak to you anyway,” he said. “Alone.”
I lifted my head and forced my eyes past the pale glow to the sensuous curve of his mouth. The memory of his lips against mine reverberated through me. I stepped back. “Your Majesty, I beg pardon, but I am very tired.”