Eona (49 page)

In a dizzying wrench, the cabin was gone. I was high above the boat, anchored in orange-vanilla power, the pleasure in my earthly body a distant thunder. Through ancient dragon eyes, I saw the raging silver water and violent swirling yellow of the cyclone winds roaring below me, bearing down on our tiny vessel. Driving rain slashed the building seas and claws of light stuttered across the dark sky, their flashes penetrating the celestial plane. Nearby, the Mirror Dragon shrieked, all her crimson beauty before me—so close, but unreachable.

Eona?
Ido's mind-voice, shocked by my presence. As shocked as I was.

I am with you
.

I felt the power between us surge into the blue dragon, his muscular body rippling with energy. Ido's joy flooded me as he and the beast amassed all our strength into one purpose—an arrow for the eye of the massive storm. With sinuous control, they harvested high ice, freezing winds, and sparks of new lightning, weaving them into a massive bolt of cold energy. I felt the huge effort of man and dragon as they drove it into the warm center of the circling winds, piercing the delicate balance of the cyclone's
Hua
.

For a terrifying moment, nothing happened, and then one side of the yellow maelstrom collapsed, pulling its deadly force away from our boat. Huge dragon muscles coiled and sprang, blocking the wild under-surge of winds. The cyclone swirled toward the land, its ragged edges curling around a smaller center. I felt every delicate shift of power between man and beast as they wrestled the remnants of its collapsed fury into a driving wind that pushed our tiny vessel across the silvered waves toward its far-off goal.

I reveled in Ido's command of his dragon and the majesty of their union. The Mirror Dragon and I could be like that—we could rule the elements, rule the
Hua
of the world.

For a heartbeat, I was back in the cabin—Ido's mouth on mine, the shift of his heavy muscles under my hands, and the rush of power mixed with the building heat of pleasure.

Then we were above the boat again, spinning into exhilaration, the tiny points of
Hua
on deck, crawling across its surface, safe, all safe. Out of the ravening fury of the circling winds and sweeping rains. So much power pulsing through us.

A painful grip on my shoulders yanked me back into my body, into the cabin. I was being dragged off the bunk. I hit out, my desperate punch catching my assailant in the chest.

“Stupid girl!”

Ryko's voice. I twisted around in his brutal grip and saw his snarl of disgust. He shoved me against the far wall, then turned back to the Dragoneye. Dela stood in the doorway, her face white.

Ido lunged at the islander. “What are you doing? What—”

His protest was stopped by Ryko's fist. Ido fell against the back of the bunk, hands to his face. The islander leaned in and grabbed him by the hair, hauling him out and slamming him against the wall in one savage move.

“Get your—”

“Shut up!” Ryko thrust his face up to the Dragoneye's, daring him to move or speak.

“Lord Ido! You must go back now,” Dela said. “They will realize it is dragon power. If His Majesty finds you in here, you'll die!” She grabbed his arm, her courtier's eyes raking over the room. “Is that his tunic?”

I snatched up the garment and held it out. She snagged it from my hand, her mouth tightening. “I hope you know what you are doing.”

“We were saving the boat!” I said.

The islander spun around to face me. “I know—I felt it!” He stabbed his finger at my dishevelment. “You'd better make up some story. Something that doesn't involve the two of you together.”

Dela pulled Ido into the passage, Ryko casting one last scathing look at me before following them. I took a step toward the door, then stopped. What could I tell Kygo? Power still thrummed through my body, Ido's touch hot on my skin. I looked around the cabin. The mattress was askew. With shaking hands I pushed it back into place and straightened my tunic, trying to find composure—and a convincing lie. I wiped my mouth, feeling my torn lip. I pressed my finger against the damage, the tiny pain an echo of the sharp shame building within me.

I had paced the length of the cabin five times before the sounds of footsteps turned me back to the door. Kygo filled its narrow frame, Tozay behind him. Both men were soaked. Kygo had been up on the main deck, too—always rushing into the fray. An errant thought sent useless dread through my body—if he had stayed below, in Master Tozay's cabin, he would have heard us. I dropped into a low bow, glad to hide my face for a moment.

“Lady Eona, was that you? Did you calm the waters? Tozay says only dragon power could do that to the storm.” I felt his hand touch my shoulder, drawing me out of the bow. I stood and forced myself to meet his elation. Surely he could read the truth in my eyes?

“Yes.”

Kygo took my hand, his skin cold against my heat. “How did you do it? I thought you could not work your power without Ido's protection from the other dragons?”

I steeled myself; this lie was going to be difficult. “I can, for a short time, Your Majesty. Although I could only push us a little way from the storm.” I looked past Kygo to Tozay. “I hope it is enough, Master Tozay. I cannot do any more.”

“It is, Lady Eona,” Tozay said. “You have saved us all. Thank you.” He bowed.

“But how?” Kygo would not be deflected.

“I have learned a great deal from Lord Ido, Your Majesty.” Four years of lying to survive kept my gaze steady and my voice calm. “It is why we rescued him from Sethon.”

Kygo's gaze was just as steady. “It is good to know he is worth all the trouble.” He smiled. “Your power is, indeed, becoming formidable.”

“It is in your service, Your Majesty,” I said.

I caught his glance back toward Tozay. “So I have heard.” Was Ido right? Was Kygo manipulating me?

“You have hurt your lip.” He touched the fullness of his own mouth.

“I must have bitten myself,” I said, glad he could not also see the race of my heart or the sharp rending of my spirit.

CHAPTER TWENTY

WITH THE FORCE
of our illicit power, Ido and I had pushed the junk a day ahead of schedule and out of the range of the diminished cyclone. For the remainder of the journey, most of my time was spent in intense sessions of campaign planning with Kygo and Tozay. When I was not in the command cabin looking at maps or discussing strategy, either I sat with my mother—our conversation safely centered upon small talk and the father and brother I had never known—or I lay on my bunk in a dark cycle of shame and confusion that inevitably ended with me reliving Ido's mastery of the cyclone. And the rushing rise of our power, together.

The planning sessions at least brought me close to Kygo, although the fast approaching strike against Sethon and my role as weapon and trigger were building a constant dread within me. I was seeing Kygo the emperor, all of his energies centered on the war ahead. Only once, on the morning after the cyclone, did I have a few precious moments with Kygo the man. Tozay had withdrawn from the command cabin to attend to a course correction, and Kygo and I were left alone, on opposite sides of the fixed table, a map of the land between us.

“I did not tell him to ask you,” he said abruptly.

I looked up from the map.

“To break the Covenant again. Tozay took that on himself. He brought it to me as a deal already struck.”

I straightened, as if some of the weight in me had been lifted. “Tozay said that you would not ask me.”

He nodded. “I know you do not wish to kill.” He gestured at the map. “Yet you can see that we cannot do without you.” His smile held no humor. “I find myself in one of the quandaries my father warned me about—principle versus pragmatism.”

“I have said yes, Kygo. This time pragmatism wins.”

“Pragmatism is like water against the rock of principle,” Kygo said softly, quoting the great poet Cho. “If not channeled, it will eventually wear its own path through the spirit.”

He walked around the table and drew me to him, his hand reaching up to stroke my face. Our kiss was slow, seeking, a gentle press of mute atonement on both sides. Yet in the midst of the tender union, the memory of Ido's savagery cut through my mind. The sudden intrusion brought a wash of shame, and I pulled away. Kygo let me—both of us, it seemed, caught in our own separate guilt.

I did not see much of Dela and Ryko during the rest of the voyage. The islander, I think, was avoiding me, but then the two of them were avoiding everyone, using the short time on board to create their own brief haven. Dela sought me out once, as I took air on the main deck, to tell me that they had silenced Ido's guard with the knowledge that he'd left his post to watch their rendezvous, allowing Ido to escape.

“This alliance you have with Lord Ido frightens me,” she said. “Do not forget what he has done.”

“I haven't.” The brisk sea wind caught my hair, whipping it across my face.

“He gave me a message for you.” She tightened her lips as if the words soured her mouth.

“What is it?”

“That you are in his blood.”

I looked down at the deck to hide the answering surge within my own blood.

“Those are the words of a lover, Eona.”

“Lord Ido only loves power. I know that,” I said, but she did not look convinced.

With a bow she turned toward the hatch.

“Dela.” She looked back. “Does Ryko hate me?”

Her face softened. “Ryko doesn't hate you. He wants to save you, Eona. Like he wants to save everyone.”

As I watched her walk away, my throat tensed with an ache of sadness. Ryko wanted to save everyone—except himself.

When we finally anchored in the deep cove harbor of our eastern rendezvous, a sense of relief quickened everyone's move-ments. I think we all wanted to get off the boat and face more than just the dark shadows in our own minds.

It is not often that the real world conjures worse than what we can imagine.

I stood against the railing and studied the vista before us, a mix of barren sand dunes, ocher rocks, and patches of low green growth bright in the late sun. This was the east—my dragon's stronghold of power—abandoned for five hundred years, cast into a hot wasteland of desert that only the border tribes inhabited. Now the Mirror Dragon had returned and, with her, the green blessing of renewal. And maybe, if we had the good will of the gods, victory.

“Lady Eona.”

Ryko's voice pulled me out of my reverie. He held out a back sheath, the moonstone and jade hilts of Kinra's swords protruding from the two scabbards strapped into the leather brace.

“His Majesty has ordered that everyone be armed, at all times,” he said. “I've greased the throats.”

I hesitated, then took the sheath. I had not touched Kinra's swords since the village inn. It seemed so long ago. Ryko crossed his arms, waiting for me to test the oiled draw. Clenching my teeth, I grabbed one leather-bound grip and felt Kinra's rage roil through my blood. Still there, still strong.

“It's good,” I managed, plunging the sword home again. The kiss of hilt against metal mouth released me from the fury.

“The other?”

“I trust you,” I said.

“Test it, my lady.”

I gripped and pulled, the smooth slide whispering death in its hissing release. I rammed the blade back, snatching my hand away. “Lovely. Thank you.”

He bowed.

“Ryko.”

He looked up, eyes wary.

“Thank you for looking after my swords.” It was not what I wanted to say, but the real words were caught in the strain between us.

“It is my duty,” he said. “I will always do my duty.” He backed away.

Eventually, a loud “Hoy!” went up from the high mast lookout—the signal from the shore had been spotted, although I could see no people on the beach or in the dunes.

I took my place in the first tender, along with Kygo, Tozay, and two of Caido's bowmen. Another, larger boat followed, with Dela, Ryko, and more armed men, two of whom guarded Ido. We rowed the distance between junk and land in silence, the air eerily still and hot after the quick sea winds, and no sign of our allies on the broad expanse of sand.

“Where are they?” I whispered.

“Wait,” Tozay said.

Both tenders beached at the same time, the bowmen covering us as we climbed out and splashed to shore through the warm water. Squinting in the glare, I scanned the undulating horizon of sand, my skin crawling with the certainty we were being watched. Tozay walked up beyond the tide line and stood with his hands on his hips, eyes fixed on the bank of dunes that curved and peaked before us. At the edge of my sight, something moved in the far dune. I swung around, reaching back for Kinra's swords, the bowmen catching my alarm and swinging with me. The sand convulsed and lifted, falling away to reveal human figures.

“Hold your fire,” Tozay barked.

I lowered my hands. Twenty or so men dressed in bleached garments the same color as the dunes rose to their feet and watched us, their weapons drawn. One of them raised a fist, then smoothed it across the air in an arc.

Tozay returned the signal. “It is clear,” he said to Kygo.

We had made contact with the Eastern Resistance army.

The soft-spoken leader pulled up his horse and turned in his saddle, waiting for Kygo to walk our sturdy dune beast up beside him. I was riding behind the emperor once again, but this time his hand covered mine as I held his waist, the press of our bodies moving together in mesmerizing harmony. We had been traveling through the night—the dune men and our troop—steadily heading to higher, more strategic ground. The moon-silvered sands had gradually given way to featureless plains and strange dark outcroppings of rock. Now the gray predawn light was giving definition back to the scrubby landscape, and to the faces around me.