Eona: The Last Dragoneye

  “I saw what you did for His Majesty. How you stopped him,” Vida said. “It was bravely done.”

  I eyed her warily, unaccustomed to such warmth from the girl.

  She hurried behind our cart. “All the bandaging has been packed in the saddlebags. I’ll find some when you are dressed.” She flipped back the canvas canopy flap, opened the nearest basket, and dug her hands into the contents. “Here, take these.”

  She passed me a pair of woven rush sandals—thin-soled, meant for the paved roads of a town—and went back to rummaging. Finally, she pulled out two packets of neatly folded cloth, one the color of rust; the other, olive green. With a flick of her wrists she shook out the rust cloth into a long, full skirt. The green was an over-tunic: the day wear of a merchant woman. The resistance had supplied us well.

  She squatted down, holding open the skirt. “Quick, my lady.”

  I stepped into the middle of the pooled linen. Vida pulled it up over my blood-streaked shift, then deftly fastened the ties around my waist. Although it was just past dawn, the air was already hot and close. By midday, I would be stifling under all this cloth.

  “Arms, please.”

  Obediently, I raised them. The familiar action brought the bittersweet memory of Rilla dressing me at the palace. Were she and Chart safe? Although I had freed both of them from their service bonds when I came into our master’s inheritance, and made Chart heir to his estate, it was no guarantee of protection. Especially if High Lord Sethon had them marked as a possible ransom for my surrender.

  Vida worked the tunic over my head, pulling it down over my chest and hips. Another dip into the basket brought out a red sash—silk, by the rich sheen. It made me wonder whose clothes I wore; the skirt and tunic were not new, and no merchant woman would easily surrender the one length of silk she was allowed by law. A terrible thought came to me: were these the clothes of a woman I had killed? I shook off the morbid idea. No—the cloth was too fine for a villager.

  Vida wrapped the long sash around my waist three times and tied it at the front. She stepped back, scrutinized me, then adjusted the tunic’s high collar. “Your hair is wrong,” she said. “I suppose it doesn’t matter; we won’t be traveling on the roads for anyone to see.”

  I forced my fingers under the sash; it was very tight.

  “I found these in the room.” Vida withdrew two worn leather pouches from the deep pocket in her gown. “They’re important, aren’t they?”

  My Dragoneye compass and the death plaques. I reached for them, then stopped. The compass had belonged to Kinra, too. It was probably anchored to her power even more than her journal.

  “Pack them,” I said. Vida started to return them to her pocket. “No, wait.”

  I grabbed the pouch with the death plaques and pushed it between the layers of my sash. When there was a quiet, solitary moment, I would pray to Kinra—beg her to leave me alone.

  To cover my abruptness, I bent to work my feet into the sandals, but the voluminous skirt got in my way. “All this cloth is impossible,” I said, gathering the hem into one hand. “I would rather be in a man’s tunic and trousers.”

  “Wouldn’t we all,” Vida said.

  I looked up from my task; was she softening toward me?

  “Not everyone. Not Lady Dela,” I said, trying a quick smile.

  She gave a sharp laugh. “That’s true.”

  “What’s true about Lady Dela?” the Contraire asked, her passage past the oxen triggering their plaintive cries.

  Vida flushed and stepped back, but I said, “We want to get back into trousers while you want to get back into a skirt.”

  Dela smiled grimly. “More than anything.” She held up a loop of string threaded with dried fruit—army travel rations, no doubt salvaged from Haddo’s supplies. “Eat something before we move out. And get that hand bound.”

  “Dela,” I said, stopping her retreat. “Will you do something for me?” I unwound the pearls, ignoring their stiff resistance and the small piercing of my heart. “Will you take care of the folio?”

  “You want me to carry it?”

  I held out the book, the pearls wrapping themselves tightly around it again. “Only you can decipher the script,” I said. “This way you can work on it at any time.”

  She studied me for a moment, her hand hovering over mine. Did she sense I was holding something back? Yet I could not tell her that my ancestress, on whom all our hopes rested, had been a traitor. I could not tell anyone. No wonder Kinra’s name had been expunged from the records, and her dragon had fled the circle for five hundred years. This was the tainted blood that flowed in my veins. This was the unforgivable legacy I had to make right with the gods.

  Dela finally picked up the folio. “I am at your service, Lady Dragoneye,” she said, and tucked the journal and its rope of guardian pearls inside her tunic.

  Vida was tying the bandage around my hand when the emperor emerged from the side lane. His walk was stiff and quick. Ryko, Yuso, and the one unscathed imperial guard followed him at a prudent distance. Even from where we sat outside the stable door, I could see the strain between the men.

  “Are the horses ready?” the emperor snapped at Solly. “Have they had water?”

  The resistance man dropped to his knees, his forehead touching the ground. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Vida followed Solly’s example and kowtowed into the dirt. I knelt into the bow of the crescent moon. It was not until Dela hissed, her flattened hand motioning me further down, that I realized my mistake; I had made the obeisance of a lord, not a lady.

  “Rise,” the emperor said curtly.

  We climbed to our feet. His eyes swept over the horses.

  “Only four?” he said. “What is our number?”

  “Eight, Your Majesty,” Dela said.

  “We double up, then. We must put as much distance as we can between us and this miserable inn, as quickly as possible.”

  Ryko stepped forward. As promised, he held Kinra’s swords. The blades were wiped clean. They had come so close to drawing the emperor’s blood; I could not risk touching them in his presence.

  “Your Majesty,” Ryko said, “may I suggest you allow Lady Eona to ride with you? Your horse is in no condition to carry two men.”

  It was sound reasoning, but I knew he had suggested it to stay as far from me as possible. There had been no opportunity to speak to him about my strange hold on his will during the battle. I tried to shake off a sense of foreboding. I did not want to control anyone’s will—and I certainly did not want the control to come between us. Ryko’s trust in me was already clouded by suspicion.

  “No, Ryko.” Yuso shook his head, the strength of his opposition drawing him level with the islander. “It is not good strategy to have His Highness and the Lady Dragoneye on one horse.”

  The islander raised his chin. “It is in this case, captain. We can surround and protect both while still maintaining speed.”

  Yuso studied his subordinate. “And if we are pursued and engaged, we could lose both. No, better to split up our treasures than have them in one place for the taking.”

  “Enough,” the emperor said wearily. “We do not have time for this. Lady Eona will ride with me. Ju-Long has a strong heart, but he is almost spent, and a lighter load will make the difference.”

  The two soldiers bowed.

  The emperor looked down at his blood-streaked mourning robe. “Lady Dela, find me something to wear. This robe no longer honors my father. The rest of you, pair off with an eye to saving the horses.”

  “This way, Your Majesty.” Dela ushered him past us and into the stable.

  “You should eat more of that fruit,” Vida said, motioning to the travel rations tied to my sash. “It is going to be a hard day.”

  “Vida,” Solly called. “Bring those feed bags over here.”

  She nodded again at my rations, then slung the long, bulging bags over her shoulder. I turned my attention to Ryko and his fellow guard as they checked sa
ddles and stirrups. Heavy silence weighted the air. What had happened in the courtyard to cause such tension? An image of Haddo, sword through his chest, leaped into my mind.

  Hurriedly, I untied the fruit string from my sash, focusing fiercely on the task to stop the terrible image. The string finally came free and I tore off a large chunk of dried plum. The whole piece went in to my mouth—a boy’s habit that would have to change—but this time, no one was watching. I closed my eyes and chewed into a sudden flood of dusty sweetness. As though the sugary fruit had been a trigger, I felt deep fatigue wash over me. All I wanted was to sleep—to find some respite from the blood and horror—but a day of hard riding was ahead. I sent up a small prayer to the gods: Help me stay on the emperor’s horse. And help me find a way to live with these insistent ghosts.

  “Lady Eona.”

  I opened my eyes. The emperor stood before me dressed in a plain brown tunic and trousers. A high collar covered the Imperial Pearl, although I could see the top of the rough stitches that secured the gem to his skin. I quickly swallowed the remains of the plum.

  “Your Majesty,” I said, and started to bow. Halfway down, he caught my arm, guiding me up again.

  “This is not the time or place for court etiquette.” He let go. “I see that you are no longer lame. Surely a gift from the gods for your courage.”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but did not get the chance.

  “You have my gratitude,” he continued. “For pulling me out of the killing rage. I know …” He paused, his dark eyes suddenly bleak. “I know everything that happened. Your courage and loyalty …”

  “Everything?” I echoed. Did he know Kinra’s swords had tried to kill him?

  He stared through me. “I can see every one of them. Every face.”

  Ah. I was not the only one struggling with ghosts. Although I knew I should not ask about the soldiers in the courtyard, the shared horror of the morning and his pained gratitude made me bold again. I touched his arm.

  “Did you kill those injured men, too?”

  He stiffened, the vast chasm of rank once again between us. “That was a military decision, Lady Eona. Do not overstep your station.”

  “Your father would not have done such a thing,” I said.

  “You do not know what my father would or would not have done.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Ryko and the other guard turn from their preparations. But I could not leave it be; I wanted Kygo to be his father’s son.

  “Did you kill them?” I asked again. “Tell me you did not.”

  “Who are you to speak to your emperor like that? You are not my Naiso; I do not take advice or criticism from you,” he said coldly. “You are not even a true lord. Know your place, woman.”

  For a moment, his dismissal robbed me of my voice. Then something seared through the bindings of duty and fear. Was it my own anger, or was it the last embers of Kinra’s ancient rage? I did not know and, suddenly, I did not care. All I knew was that it was strong and it was mine.

  “I am the Ascendant Dragoneye,” I said through my teeth. “Whether I am lord or lady or neither, I am your only link to the dragons. Remember that.”

  The truth of my words registered in the dark flare of his eyes.

  He moved closer, using his height to crowd me. “I hope you can back up that claim,” he said. “There are many men and women depending on your power. Yet Ryko tells me you still cannot control it. That you destroyed a village and killed thirty-six people. Innocent people who could not fight back.”

  “At least I did not do it deliberately,” I said, holding my ground. “At least I knew it was wrong.”

  “I could not control it! You saw me. I did not know what I was doing.”

  “I’m not talking about your killing rage,” I said doggedly. “I’m talking about those men left alive in the courtyard.”

  I thought that he was going to strike me. Instead he stepped back, fists clenched by his sides. “I do not need another conscience, Lady Eona. Look to your own morality and stay out of mine.”

  He strode across the yard to Ju-Long, the big dappled gray still tied to the stable rail. I watched as he ran his hand over the animal’s sweat-stained shoulder, his head bowed. Although anger still roared through me, something dank and sour joined it.

  Disappointment.

  “Lady Eona,” Ryko said.

  I turned, stopping his approach. I could not face his anger, too.

  He held out Kinra’s swords. “There is no place for another saddle-sheath on his Majesty’s horse,” he said belligerently. “Do you wish to carry your swords in a back-sheath?”

  “No!” It was almost a shout. I took a deep breath, forcing moderation into my voice. “Carry them for me. Please.”

  He gave a quick bow, his face shutting down. It was a servant’s face. “As you wish.”

  The emperor led his horse out into the center of the stable yard and swung himself neatly into the saddle. He summoned the other guard.

  “Tiron, assist Lady Eona on to Ju-Long. She does not have any saddle skills.”

  My face burned. The last time he had seen me on a horse was the night of the palace coup—the same night he had found out I was not Lord Eon, but a girl. For a shamed moment, I remembered his scathing glance up and down my body, and his fury.

  The emperor motioned me closer. “You will ride behind me. Use your knees to hold on, but try not to hinder Ju-Long’s movement.” A flick of his hand sent Tiron down on his knees beside the horse. The young guard blushed as I gathered up the full skirt. He politely looked away as I placed my foot into his waiting hands.

  “Ready,” I said.

  Suddenly, I was rising through the air. I twisted around, awkwardly flinging my healed leg over the animal’s flank and grabbing for the back of the saddle. My landing was heavy, the reflexive dig of my knees sending the animal sidewise across the cobbles in a clacking crab-walk. As the emperor pulled the horse around, I desperately tried to keep my seat as the huge, bony joints and muscles shifted under me.

  “You have permission to touch me, Lady Eona,” the emperor said curtly as he brought the horse to a fidgeting standstill. “Otherwise you’ll end up on the ground.”

  Tentatively I let go of the saddle and held the emperor’s waist. Through the cloth of his tunic, I could feel the warmth of his body and the tension in his muscles as he controlled the horse.

  “I said, ‘Hold on.’” He pulled my arms more tightly around his waist and pressed my hands against the flat of his stomach.

  I inched forward, coming up hard against the back of the saddle.

  “You may mount,” he ordered the rest of our troop.

  I did not dare look over my shoulder in case the movement made me slide off the horse. From behind us came the clatter of hooves and a sharp curse from Dela as she missed her first attempt into the saddle. I focused on the tiny red jewels woven into the emperor’s long braid, and slowly adjusted the pressure of my knees against the horse. Already the strain was cutting into my thighs, and my neck was aching. The only logical place for my head was against the flat of the emperor’s shoulder blade, but the position was too intimate. I could not take such a liberty.

  “Move out,” he called.

  We lurched into a walk that, in a few steps, quickened into a trot. Instinctively, my arms tightened even further around his waist as I tried to find a rhythm that did not slam my rump bones against the horse or grind me into the raised back of the saddle.

  “Do not fight it,” the emperor said, glancing back with a frown. “Relax and lean into me or you’ll pull us both onto the ground.”

  It was then I realized where we were heading. “Are we going out the front gate?”

  “Yuso wants us to ride through the village before we head into the forest.”

  I felt him tighten his hold on the reins as we rounded the corner into the courtyard. The stench brought the horse’s head up, a loud snort registering its protest. Before us, bodies lay on cobblesto
nes that were wet with blood and excrement. Black carrion birds were already picking and pulling, our arrival sending them skyward in a heavy beat of wings. The emperor pulled the horse to the edge of the compound, then urged it past the corpses. I wanted to close my eyes, turn my head, but something caught my attention.

  Movement.

  A soldier dragging himself to his knees. And another rocking and groaning, propped up against the lodging-house wall.

  “They’re not dead,” I said. “You didn’t kill them.”

  “They’d be better off if we did.” The emperor’s voice was harsh. “Most of them will die, even with the local physician’s care. And those that don’t will betray us.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  He looked back at me. “Will you be glad when my uncle uncovers your disguise? When he learns of our whereabouts?” He steered the horse through the inn’s gateway. “There is nothing to be glad about here.”

  But he was wrong. As he kicked Ju-Long into a bone-jarring canter, I placed my head against his shoulder and leaned into the solid anchor of his back.

  CHAPTER SIX

  YUSO CALLED A HALT at dusk. We gathered in a small, natural clearing in the forest, the deafening chitter of birds heralding the end of daylight. Through the ferns and undergrowth, I caught sight of a bloated stream, fed by the recent monsoon rains. The downpours had been heavier than usual, untamed by the Dragoneyes and their beasts. With only two of us left in the circle—one dying and the other useless—it would not be long before some grave disaster tore at the land and the cries for help would go unanswered.

  I slid off Ju-Long’s sweaty back, the sudden contact with the ground sending spikes of pain through my legs. For more than twelve full bells we had alternated between short bursts of speed on the horses and long, hot slogs on foot, leading the tired animals. My thighs, unused to the rigors of riding, were a solid ache of overtaxed muscles and chafed skin.

  It was almost unbearable to lower myself into a crouch and drop backward onto the damp forest floor amid the heavy, hot folds of my skirt. I cursed, and pushed away a fallen branch caught under my hip. The bandage around my hand was filthy, but the wound no longer stung, even when I flexed my fingers. Across the clearing, Solly unsaddled the horse he had shared with Tiron, while the young guard attended to Ju-Long. Ryko handed his reins to Vida and started toward me, our postponed discussion in his eyes. I readied myself, but the emperor sat down beside me, cutting off the islander’s approach. Relief made me sag; I had no answers for Ryko.