CHAPTER SIXTEEN
OUR GOAL WAS the coast. Master Tozay had nominated Sokayo, a small village with resistance sympathies and a good harbor for our rendezvous. It was at least three nights of hard traveling away, even without the added complication of Sethon’s patrols sweeping the land.
Twice during the first night we crouched among the dense foliage, praying to the gods as troops passed by only a few lengths away. And on a dawn scouting mission, Yuso came face to face with a young foraging soldier. Yuso’s description of the encounter was predictably terse; he held up a precious map of the area and two dead rabbits, adding that no one would find the man’s body. The gods, it seemed, were not only hearing our prayers, they were answering them.
Between the tense hours of night travel and snatched hours of sleep during the day, Ido began to teach me the Staminata: the slow-moving combination of meditation and movement that helped to counteract the energy drain of communing with a dragon. I’d had only one Staminata lesson before the coup, but even that had helped me understand the transfer of energy throughout my body. Ido said the training was as much for him as for me. If he was to have any chance of holding back the ten bereft beasts while I practiced the dragon arts, he needed to restore the balance of energy in his own body.
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 Mirror 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 folio’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.”
“It will not take long.” He cleared his throat, the hard swallow forcing my gaze back to the jewel at its base. “I have come to understand that I have offended you with my honesty about your power,” he said. “I am not accustomed—” He paused and rubbed his chin. “I mean, apart from my father, there has been no one whose opinion I was required to consider. And I’ve never had to”—his finger traced the edge of the pearl—“pursue a woman.”
Was the emperor apologizing to me?
He took a deep breath. “I cannot take back those words—we both know they were the truth—but I regret that they caused you hurt.” He reached across and took my hand. “And they did not take into account the importance I place upon your role as Naiso. Eona, you are the moon balance to my sun.”
For a moment, I could not speak. His balance? My heart ached with the trust in his words. I wanted to be his balance, but I was more likely to be his death.
“I am honored, Your Majesty,” I stammered.
“Kygo,” he corrected softly. “I am sorry I hurt you, Eona.”
His sincerity sliced through me like a knife. I tightened my hold on his hand and felt hard metal pressing into my skin; the blood ring was back on his finger. Good. He needed the protection. “You know I would never hurt you, Kygo.”
“I know.” His head tilted; a smile quickly suppressed. “Of course, you have already punched me in the throat and tried to stab me with a sword, but I know you would never hurt me.”
I closed my eyes, but it did not stop the tears. He did not know how much truth was in his jest: at the inn, I had barely held back Kinra’s murderous desire for the pearl. And that was even before I had been touched by the madness of the black folio.
“Eona, I’m only teasing,” he said. The soft touch of his fingers stopped the track of my tears.
I pressed my wet cheek into his hand, unwilling to open my eyes and see the pearl. Unwilling to see the truth. But I knew Ido was right. The pearl was the way to save the dragons. To save our power. Even as he had said it—even as I had denied it—I had known it to be true. Like a part of a wooden puzzle locking into place, creating a picture of pain.
I took a shaking breath. Kinra had not been a power-hungry traitor, after all; she had been trying to save the dragons. There was no taint of treachery in my blood. Yet that did not change the fact that she was still trying to take the pearl through me—her Dragoneye descendant—and it was endangering Kygo’s life. I was not going to be a puppet of my ancestor or the gods or whoever held the rods of this shadow play. Not without a fight. There had to be another way to save the dragons. Another way of mastering Gan Hua. And I could think of only one place it might be: the black folio.
I opened my eyes. “I know,” I said, but my gaze had already locked onto the pearl.
Always the pull of its power nestled in the back of my mind. Now I knew why. Kinra. I had to protect Kygo and the pearl until Dillon brought the black folio. Until I found a way to save the dragons without the Hua of All Men.
I had to protect Kygo from Kinra. And I had to protect him from me.
I pressed my lips against his palm, into the soft gateway of energy, imprinting his touch and smell upon my spirit. Then, forcing a smile, I stepped back. Away from the sun that balanced my moon.
Ryko was the first person I saw as I followed Kygo back into the circle of our camp. Apart from the sentries stationed around the edge, the islander was the only one on his feet. Everyone else was preparing for sleep or hunched over food and eating with tired intensity. In contrast, Ryko was shifting from foot to foot, all of his attention focused on Ido at the other side of the scrubby clearing. The Dragoneye had been escorted back from our training session, and one of the guards—Jun the archer—was tying his wrists again. Ido looked across at me as a rustle of soft greetings announced our arrival, but I turned away from his scrutiny. I did not want to see what was in his face.
With a quick bow to Kygo, I headed toward Lady Dela. She was leaning against a supply pack slowly eating a dried plum, her fatigue like a heavy cloak across her shoulders. “I have a favor to ask,” I said.
She wiped her mouth delicately with two fingers. “Anything, as long as I don’t have to get up.”
I leaned closer, lowering my voice to a mere breath. “I need you to find out if the folio has the reason why Kinra was executed.”
Dela frowned. “We know why,” she whispered, touching the book bound to her wrist. “For treason.”
I had not told Dela that I believed Kinra had attempted to steal the Imperial Pearl. If it was in the red folio, then she would find it. And if it was not, then she did not have to know. Not yet, anyway. For a moment, I felt an overwhelming urge to tell her the meaning of the Hua of All Men. To share the horror. But she would tell Kygo—that was a certainty—and he would have to protect the pearl.
Unbidden, a terrible thought shivered through me: Emperor Dao had executed Kinra to protect the pearl. Love against power, and power had won.
I needed more time to master Gan Hua. More time to find another way to save the dragons. Then I would tell Kygo everything.
“Yes, we know it was treason,” I said softly. “But I need to know exactly what she did, and why.”
Especially why. I needed proof.
Dela nodded. “I’ll look. There were no specifics in the note at the back, but it might be within the coded sections.” She started to unwind the pearls, then paused. “I did glean another piece of information. At the very beginning of our bargain with the dragons, there were always two ascendant dragons each year, not just one—the male dragon who was in his Ascendant year of the cycle and the Mirror Dragon. She was always ascendant—whether with a male dragon or on her own in the Mirror Dragon year—until she went missing after Kinra’s death.”
Another piece of the puzzle, but where did it fit?
“If she was always ascendant, does it mean that dragon power has been halved since she left?” I mused. “Is that part of the reason why the dragons need to be saved?”
Dela shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said tiredly. “I just decode it.”
“And I appreciate all your hard work.” I clasped her arm in thanks.
As I withdrew, she caught my hand. “You’re upset, and so is Ryko. Has something happened?”
I squeezed her fingers. “Everything is fine.”
I turned to leave, but was stopped by Ryko. “Lady Eona, can I speak to you?”
I was fairly sure it was nothing I wanted to hear, but I allowed him to steer me away from Dela. He led me to the edge of the camp at a careful distance between two perimeter guards.
“What was that?” he demanded. All of his usual stolid composure was gone.
“What?”
He leaned down. “Don’t treat me like an idiot. I know what it feels like to be compelled by you. You have done it to me enough times. And I know you compelled Ido just now, in such a way that”—he pressed his two fists together—“Eona, what have you done?”
Heat rushed to my face. “I did what I had to do,” I said, lowering my voice. “Lord Ido found a way to block my compulsion. I found another way to his will. It is no different.”
“No different?” His long islander eyes held mine. “Do you really believe that? You must know you are playing with fire. You heard what Momo said.”
“Would you prefer that I not have any power over him?”
His chin jutted mulishly. “I would prefer him dead.”
I glared at him.
He conceded with a reluctant tilt of his head. “Just be careful. Dela is worried sick about you.”
“She is worried sick about you, too.” His hard stare warned me away, but right then I had no patience for unnecessary suffering. “You are a fool if you think she cares about rank and fortune.”
“I know she does not.”
“Is it because she is physically a man?”
He gave a sharp laugh. “I grew up around stranger couplings. That is not the reason.”
I crossed my arms. “What is, then?”
He rocked on his feet and, for a moment, I thought he was going to walk away.
“I am not meant to be alive,” he finally said. “Shola allowed you to pull me back from my death. Do you think it was out of pity?”
I swallowed, remembering the fisher village. He had truly been walking the pathway to his ancestors.
“I am here for a reason,” he said with determination. “I do not know what it is, but I doubt it is to find my own happiness. I am marked by Shola, and she will reclaim me when my part is played in this gods’ game. I do not have the right to pull Dela close or make plans. It would not be honorable.”
“You are here because I healed you, Ryko. My power brought you back from death. If anyone has a say in your life, it is me.” I jabbed my finger into my chest. “And I say take happiness while you can.”
At least one of us could have it.
“Are you so powerful now that you count yourself with gods?” he demanded.
“No! You know I did not mean that.”
“You may have control of my will, Lady Eona, but you do not have control of my honor. It is all that I have left. It is all that I can give Dela.” He gave a stiff bow. “With your permission.” Without waiting, he turned and walked away.
I watched Dela’s pale face turn to follow him as he strode across the camp. So much unhappiness in the name of duty and honor.
The village of Sokayo had a bathhouse.
It was a small, foolish thing to be excited about, but the report from Caido—recently returned from scouting the village—still lifted my spirits. We were less than a full bell’s walk away, and had taken temporary refuge in a ravine with a small stream at its base. Although it was midmorning, Kygo had decided we could cautiously cross the final distance. Opposite me in the circle of intent listeners, Vida was grinning too, although I doubted it was from the thought of a hot bath; she would soon be reunited with her father.
And with Master Tozay would come my mother.
As Caido continued his report, I rubbed at the dust and sweat ingrained on the skin of my arms, flicking off tiny rolls of dirt. The shallow stream had provided a welcome drink and a quick cooling splash, but only a long, hot soak was going to budge the result of three days of hard training and traveling. Hopefully the bath house would have some kind of soap or washing sand. I did not want to look like a slattern.
“I can see why Master Tozay elected to use the harbor. It is sheltered and deep,” Caido said. “But the village has strategic problems; it is in a cove between cliffs, with limited routes in and out.”
Beside me, Kygo brushed away a spiral of persistent flies. “How much risk?” he asked Yuso.
The captain shook his head. “I would say low. The villagers support the resistance, do they not?” Caido nodded. “Then it will be manageable.”
“My father has charted all of the coastline. He knows the harbors as well as he knows his own children,” Vida added. “This will be the best one for him to use with the tides.”
Kygo turned to me. “And the cyclone?”
I glanced up at the strange sky. The dark clouds were high but held the oppressive weight of a low storm, with the occasional flash of dry lightning. A hot inland wind had brought the swarms of tiny flies that surrounded us.
“Still two days away,” I said.
Outside the circle, I saw Ido nod his agreement. We had not spoken since I had compelled him to call Dillon. Dela told me that his gaze followed me everywhere, but so far I had managed to avoid meeting his eyes. The intimacy of that new compulsion was still in my blood. No doubt it lingered within him, too.
“Cannot Lord Ido stop the development of this cyclone?” Kygo asked me. He refused to give Ido the favor of direct communication.
Ido leaned forward. “No, Lord Ido cannot stop it by himself,” he said, with an edge in his voice.
Kygo angled his face away from the Dragoneye and waited for me to answer.
“No,” I said brusquely.
It felt stupid repeating what everyone else had already heard. I grabbed on to the minor irritation—anything to stop the ache I felt whenever I looked at Kygo. Distracted by the hardship of traveling fast and covertly, he had not yet noticed the careful space I was keeping between us.
“My father will be able to outrun it, if all goes to plan and we board at dusk,” Vida said.
“Then let’s go in,” Kygo said. “We don’t want to miss our boat.”
We were met outside the village by a keen-eyed lookout. With an apologetic bow, he explained that his orders were to lead us along the cliff path to the house of Elder Rito. As we followed the young man in single file along a track suited more to goats than men, the cove below came into view between the coarse bushes—a white sand crescent dotted with a few beached boats and drying nets. I stopped, overtaken by the image of another white beach and a woman holding out her hand. My mother. I almost had a clear picture of her face. But it was gone in an instant, only an echo of emotion left behind—and even that was blurred. Batting away a sticky fly, I hurried along the path to close the gap behind Dela, still caught in the soft-edged pull of my memory.
Elder Rito’s cottage was set on a slope overlooking the cove. The small wooden dwelling was so faded by wind, rain, and salt that its silvered silhouette looked as if it was made of the gray sea below it. Inside, the furnishings in the single room were as worn as the exterior, but there was a scent of spicy fish stew that brought saliva to my mouth, and a pleasing order to the sparse belongings. As we gathered in the cramped space, three old men bent into kowtows on the worn straw matting: the elders of Sokayo.
“You may rise,” Kygo said.
All three sat back stiffly on their heels. Each had the dark, weathered skin of the coastal dweller and gnarled hands from years of hauling nets. The man kneeling in the center—Rito, their spokesman—also had the distinction of a hideous scar that ran straight across his cheeks and nose. “An encounter with a sea ray,” our young guide had thoughtfully informed us before we entered the house. Even warned, it was hard not to stare at the puckered ruin of his face.
“You are Elder Rito?” Kygo asked. The old man nodded. “We are grateful for your village’s hospitality.”
“It is our honor, Your Majesty,” Rito said. His eyes flicked to the Imperial Pearl. “Our loyalty is to you and the memory of your revered father, who walks among the golden gods. We know you are the true heir to his enlightened throne.” Rito bowed, then turned to me. “We are honored to welcome you, too, Lady Dragoneye.”
“You know who I am?” I asked.
“Your true identity is widespread now, my lady. Tacked to trees and whispered in taverns. As is the tragic news of the slaying of your ten Dragoneye brothers.”
His eyes went to Ido’s bound hands, then traveled up to the Dragoneye’s face. For such an old man, the threat within that slow gaze was palpable. Perhaps it was the scar across his face that intensified the menace; only a fierce and strongwilled man could have survived that injury. Ido’s fingers curled into fists.
“For the time being, Lord Ido is under our protection, Elder Rito,” Kygo said.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Rito said, bowing again.
“Have there been more troops in the area than usual?” Yuso asked.
“Activity has been increasing everywhere,” Rito said. “We have had our share of scrutiny, but nothing that differs from other villages in the area. Probably less, since we are farther from the main thoroughfare and do not have grain or livestock for the taking.”
“You have extra sentries posted?”
“Of course, but you are welcome to review them if you wish.”
Yuso nodded. “Thank you. I will.”
Rito turned his attention back to me. “You have seen the flies, my lady?” I nodded. “The dogs are also crying at night. And the children have seen ants climbing trees with their eggs on their backs—signs that a cyclone is coming from an unseemly direction.”
“Yes,” I said. “From the west. It will arrive here in two days.”
He leaned forward, his face sharpening. “Can you stop it, my lady?” His eyes went to Ido, then back to me.
I licked my lips, mouth suddenly dry. “I’m sorry, Elder Rito. Lord Ido and I cannot stop it.”
“Ahh.” The slow exhale was full of crushed hope. Rito glanced to the elder at his right and jerked his head toward the doorway.
The other man nodded, then bowed to Kygo. “May I withdraw, Your Majesty?” His voice cracked with urgency. “We need to bring our cyclone preparations forward.”
“Of course.”
As the elder rose and retreated from the room, it felt as though all eyes were upon me. Still useless, they seemed to say.
“Your Majesty, we have hot food ready and have prepared places for sleep,” Rito finally said. “If there is anything else you or Lady Eona require, please let me know.”
There was something else I required: solitude. Just for a short time, I needed to be away from the silent judgment of the world, from the watchful eyes of Ido, and from the endless questions and fears that seethed through my mind.
“I believe you have a bathhouse,” I said.
The old woman bowed, the arc of her mottled hand urging Vida and me through the blue door flags at the entrance of the communal bathhouse.
“I will wait out here and make sure you are not disturbed, my lady,” she said with a shy smile. “And inside, you will find all that you requested.”
“Thank you.” I returned the smile and pushed through the flags.
Vida followed a step behind. After a hurried bowl of fish stew, I had spent almost a quarter bell courteously resisting the elders’ pressure to be bathed by the senior village women. I could not, however, refuse Kygo’s insistence that Vida escort me into the bathhouse. Her company was the closest I was going to get to time alone.
We both stopped inside the compact foyer. The attendant’s small platform, edged by a thick carved railing, was set between two wooden doors that led into the bathing areas: faded blue for men on the right, red for women on the left. A set of shoe shelves stood on either side of the small area. I slipped my sandals off and pushed them onto the rough shelf next to me. Vida followed suit, placing hers next to mine.
“I do not have any training as a body servant, my lady,” she said. “I will need instruction.”
I shook my head. “I’ll look after myself, Vida. You may bathe, too. I’m sure you’d like to honor your father’s arrival.”
“Truly?” She looked down at her feet. Tide marks of dirt showed the outline of her sandal straps. My feet were just as filthy. “That would be wonderful.”
“Come, let’s go in.”
I crossed the rough straw matting and slid open the red door. The small dressing room was furnished with a wooden bench and more shelving. Steam from the baths had seeped into the room through a connecting door at the far end, giving the air a damp, velvety warmth. As I had requested, a stack of washing and drying cloths had been laid out on the bench, together with a ceramic pot of rough milled soap, combs, and, most importantly, fresh clothing. I picked up the neatly folded top layer of the first pile: a long woman’s tunic, the brown weave close and soft. Below were the accompanying ankle-length trousers and a stack of underthings. A similar pile sat beside it.
“Clean clothes for both of us.” I grinned at Vida as she closed the red door behind us. “Tunic and trousers. Finally!”
Vida eyed the second pile. “A set for me, too? Really?”
I nodded, gratified by her wide smile of pleasure. She did not smile very often around me.
It did not take us long to shed the now dirt-encrusted clothes we had been given in the city. I averted my eyes from the curves of Vida’s naked form. It had been a long time since I had bathed in a communal bath. For nearly five years my maimed body had made me untouchable, forcing me to bathe alone. I looked down at my now-straight leg and smoothed my palm across the strong lock of bone and muscle and unscarred skin that formed my hip. It still filled me with wonder.
I picked up one of the washing cloths from the pile and held it modestly across my groin, then collected the pot of soap. “Vida, you bring the rest of the cloths.”
Eagerly, I slid open the door to the baths, the heavier heat settling against my skin. Although it was humid outside, I still longed for the cleanliness that came only from hot water. A long wooden partition down the middle of the room separated the men and women’s bathing areas, but it did not reach the roof, and steam had collected near the high ceiling in a soft haze. At the far end was the women’s bath, a large sunken pool with pale drifts rising into the still, thick air.
But first, the washing station. I crossed to the narrow trough that stood along the wall with a series of low stools and small buckets in front of it. A terra-cotta pipe trickled continuously into its catch, the sound like a tiny waterfall.
I chose a middle stool, placed the pot of soap beside it on the wooden floor, then picked up a bucket. One deep scoop the length of the trough filled it with water on the satisfying side of hot.
Vida closed the dressing room door. “Shall I wait until you are finished, my lady?”
I lowered the bucket to the floor. “No, join me.”
Vida smiled and bowed.
With full buckets and plenty of soap, we got to work. Vida picked the remaining pins from my heavy, oiled hair, the remnants of Moon Orchid’s careful styling finally gone. Then I returned the service, freeing Vida’s hair from the intricate Safflower braids into a frizz of kinks.
“That feels good,” Vida said, digging her fingers into her scalp. She giggled as she felt the volume of hair around her head. “I must look like a wild woman.”
I crossed my eyes and held out the thick tangle of my own hair. “Or a madwoman.” Vida’s giggle broke into a snort.
We dumped buckets of water over each other, the streaming heat slowly softening the days of collected grime. I worked up a lather from the rough, grainy soap that smelled of sweet grass, and massaged it from my toes to my crown, scrubbing with a cloth and sluicing with water until the suds that ran off my body was no longer gray. Beside me, Vida did the same, softly humming an old folk song that I vaguely remembered from the salt farm. We hummed the chorus together, breaking into laughter as our different versions ended in a clash of notes.
“Shall I wash your back, my lady?” Vida asked.
“Yes, please.” I shifted around on my stool, then felt the wet, sodden warmth of a cloth against my back, and the gentle pressure as Vida worked it along my shoulders and spine. I sighed as tensions melted under her firm scrubbing. It had been more than four years since I’d had the pleasure of “skinship”: that sweet, gentle bond of physical freedom and camaraderie that came with bathing among other girls and women. I had not realized how much I had missed it.
Eventually, we were both clean enough to enter the bath. I led the way down the three steps, the water rising from ankle to knee and then hip in delicious stings of heat. I sank down and found the stone sitting-step along the edge. Vida waded in and, with a sigh, sat opposite me.
“Thank you for this, my lady,” she said.
“You must be excited to see your father again.”
She nodded, lowering her strong shoulders farther into the water. “And you must be excited to be reunited with your mother.”
I shrugged. “I have not seen her since I was six. I will be a stranger to her, as she is to me.” I paused, then finally gave voice to my thoughts. “Perhaps there will be no feeling between us.”
Or perhaps she’d not had enough feeling to keep me, so long ago.
Vida shook her head. “She is your family. There is always a bond.”
“Maybe,” I said. “I cannot remember what it is like to have a family.”
Vida tilted her head. “But you have had people who have cared for you? Who care for you now, like Lady Dela and Ryko.”
“I’m not sure Ryko would still want to be in that count,” I said dryly.
But Dela definitely cared. When I was small, there had been Dolana, at the salt farm, before she was taken by the coughing sickness. And later, of course, Rilla and Chart. Even my master, in his own cold way. In all truth, I wished it were Rilla and Chart who had been found by Tozay’s men, and not the stranger who was on her way. I missed Rilla’s common sense and sharptongued affection and Chart’s lewd humor. I sent a swift prayer to the gods to keep them safe. And to bring them to me.
Vida raised her leg in the water, contemplating the pale row of toes as they emerged above the surface. “It is obvious His Majesty cares for you, too.”
I pretended to peer into the water to avoid her amused glance.
“And Lord Ido,” she added.
That brought my head up. “He does not care about me.”
“He watches you all the time,” she said. “He is a handsome man, don’t you think?”
“Not as handsome as His Majesty,” I said firmly, but I smiled, too. I did not want to curb Vida’s sudden friendliness. This was the skinship I remembered: women’s talk, and laughter, and the gentle teasing about life and love.
“Perhaps. They are handsome in different ways. His Majesty is . . .” She paused, obviously searching for the right word, then gave a small shrug. “Beautiful, in that way that touches the spirit.”
“And Lord Ido?” I prompted.
“Lord Ido is very male,” she said with slow emphasis.
I nodded, meeting her grin. It was a good description.
She shot me a sharp look. “Are you attracted to him?”
“Of course not.” I shook my head, but I felt my face flush.
“I can see why you would be. You have a lot in common.”
“No, we don’t!” I said quickly. “He is a traitor and a murderer.”
Her gaze dropped from mine. Although I sat in a hot bath, I felt a chill: in Vida’s eyes, I was also a killer.
All our ease gone; what a fool I was.
She cupped her hands and splashed water over her face, breaking the silence.
“You are the last two Dragoneyes,” she said, smoothing back her wet hair. “It must be a strong bond. And he has more than just his dragon power.”
I frowned: her phrasing seemed familiar. An echo of another voice within the words. I half rose from the water, driven by a terrible intuition. “Did His Majesty tell you to talk about Lord Ido?”
She shook her head. Too fast. “No, my lady.”
I stood up. “He did. I can see it in your face.”
“No, my lady.”
“You are spying for him!” I raised my hand, wanting to slap away her betrayal.
She shrank back against the wall. “No, my lady. It was not His Majesty! It was Lady Dela. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do it. I told her I was no good at this kind of thing.”
“Dela?” Shock stilled my hand. She was my friend. “Why would she do that?”
“She says you are shutting her out, my lady.”
I waded to the steps and stumbled up them, catching my shin on a stone edge. Sharp pain spiked through me, opening my fury into full flame.
Vida stood up in the water. “Lady Dela is worried about you,” she called after me. “You have to spend a lot of time with Lord Ido, and she knows what he is like. She was at court with him for years.”
I turned around. “I’m doing it all for His Majesty,” I yelled. “No other reason. Tell her that!”
I grabbed a drying cloth and ran, dripping, to the dressing room, snapping the door shut behind me. The cooler air in the connecting space shivered across my body. I jammed my hand against my mouth, trying to press back the sob in my throat. Even Dela did not trust me.
I had never felt so alone.
With frantic speed, I pulled on the fresh clothes, tying the tunic as I ran through the foyer, my wet hair unbound and hanging like a loose woman’s. I grabbed my sandals from the shelf and pushed my way through the door flags. The old attendant was still waiting outside the entrance, with a man. I recognized the stringy frame: Caido. What was he doing here? They both turned at my abrupt appearance.
The old woman gasped. “My lady, do you need assistance? Did I forget combs?”
“No.” I dropped my sandals and forced my feet into them, then gathered my hair back into my fist.
Caido turned his face away from my immodesty. “My lady,” he said. “I am here to deliver a message from Lord Ido. He asks that you join him on the beach for training.”
“That is the last thing I want to do.” I pushed past him and the attendant and quickened my walk into a half-jog, although there was no place to go.
Caido’s longer legs caught me up in a few strides. “Please, my lady. Lord Ido said to tell you that you are both strong enough to start working with your dragon now.”
I stopped, all my pain and anger gone, obliterated by one thought: my dragon. Her glory was always with me. I was not alone. I was never alone.
“Take me to Ido,” I said.
