Eona (11 page)

“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 cobblestones 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.

“Here, take some water,” the emperor said, passing a lacquered flask. “A few more days on Ju-Long and you'll get used to riding.”

“A few more days and I'll be dead from arse pain.” I clapped my hand over my mouth; the profanity had just slipped out.

He gave a low snort of laughter.

Hesitantly, I smiled back. I had only ever seen him laugh once before, at one of his father's jokes. Admittedly, there had not been much to laugh about in the imperial court. His smile reminded me of his dead mother. Lady Jila's delicate symmetry of cheekbones and chin were, in her son, bolder and more masculine, but I could see her sensuous beauty in his dark eyes and full mouth.

Poor Lady Jila; may she find peace in the garden of the gods
. Although it was only weeks ago, it seemed like years since we had sat together in the harem and I had promised her I'd protect her son and be his friend. So far, I had done little to keep either promise.

“I have never heard a lady say ‘arse,'” the emperor said mildly.

“I haven't been a lady for long,” I reminded him. A little demon—made of exhaustion and the emperor's smile—pushed me into adding, “For five years I've been saying ‘arse.' It's hard to stop saying ‘arse' after that many years. I suppose I should stop saying ‘arse,' since ladies don't say—”

“‘Arse,'” he finished for me.

I met his grin.

Yuso kneeled on the ground before us. “Your Highness.”

The emperor straightened, the ease gone from his face. “What is it?”

“I estimate we are at least a day ahead of any search, even one on horse. Still, I advise we do not light a fire for cooking and make do with rations. The girl will bring them to you.” He tilted his head at Vida, who was fitting a nosebag on one of the horses. “She says there is a resistance group less than a day away. We should make for them. They'll have current news of Sethon's movements.”

The emperor nodded. “Good. I want to muster as many men as we can and march on the palace.”

Yuso sucked in a breath, his careful control shifting into something hard and intense. It lasted less than a second, then smoothed back into his usual dourness. “We do not head for the eastern tribes, then, Your Majesty?” he asked. “Ryko says the resistance will be gathering there.”

“No. By the time we go east and return, the twelve days of Rightful Claim will be long over. It must be now.”

I chewed on my lip; to march on the palace without a full army would be suicide.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Yuso said.

He knew it was suicide, too; I could see it in his eyes. Why didn't he say something? But he merely bowed: the dutiful, loyal soldier.

“Your Majesty,” I said hesitantly. “The resistance is expecting us to meet with them in the east. That is where you can be assured of strong support.” I glanced at Yuso. “Is that not so, captain?”

He would not look at me. No doubt he did not want to be pulled into the arrow's path. “His Majesty wishes to march on the palace,” he said woodenly.

I glared at him. Someone had to tell the truth, but I was not going to fall alone. “I'm sure you will agree, captain, that it is unlikely there will be enough men between here and the palace to make an effective army,” I said carefully. “At present, High Lord Sethon has the greater force.”

The emperor eyed me impassively. I had seen his honored father wear the same stony mask when dealing with unwelcome news. I tried not to shift under the relentless stare. The old emperor had been a shrewd politician, willing to listen to opposing views without reprisal. I hoped his son had the same restraint.

“You may go, captain.” The emperor waved his dismissal. Yuso bowed and backed away.

The emperor waited until he was out of earshot, then said, “My uncle may have the greater military force, Lady Eona, but he does not have the Imperial Pearl, nor your power behind him.”

“My power, Your Majesty?” I dug my fingernail into the gold peony etched on the flask. “Are you asking me to use my dragon for war?”

“War?” He shook his head. “There will be no war. That is why we have the days of Rightful Claim; to prevent such a disaster. I have the ancient symbol of sovereignty”—he touched the pearl at his throat—“and I have the support of the Mirror Dragoneye, the symbol of renewed power. My uncle will see that his claim cannot stand against mine.”