Eona (14 page)

Lady Dela would follow, too, although her loyalty was forged by necessity. Unlike his brother and nephew, Sethon was not tolerant of difference. Particularly Dela's difference. She sat on her blanket with the red folio already open and propped against her knees, her face set into fierce concentration. Now and again she glanced across at Ryko, who patrolled the perimeter of the clearing, but his attention was fixed on the surrounding forest. Ryko was loyal to the emperor, but he would balk at any plan that involved Ido. Except, perhaps, assassination.

“Lady Eona.” Vida bowed by my side. “His Majesty has sent me to assist you.”

Kygo stood with his back to us, talking to Yuso. Perhaps I had been mistaken about him watching me. Then again, he had known when to send Vida to my side.

“Here.” She offered her hand.

I stifled a groan as she pulled me upright; I did not want to sound like an old, rheumy villager. I already stank like a stable hand.

“I need to wash.”

“It will have to be quick, my lady. His Majesty wants us to assemble.”

Quick was not going to be possible, but I nodded and hobbled after her into the undergrowth. We wove through the dense stand of mountain ash, the early sunlight barely breaking through its canopy to the thick layer of leaf litter underfoot. It was a short walk, but by the time we came to the stream, the dawn breeze had already shifted into the stronger wind that brought the monsoon rains.

“Be careful,” Vida warned. “The flooding has made the edges soft.”

The grass along each bank was lying flat, a sure sign of receded water. A few lengths downstream, a large area of churned mud showed footprints and the deep cut of hooves.

“I am not looking forward to another day on that horse,” I said, hoping to create some ease between us. “I feel like I have been twisted and tied into an eternity knot.”

Vida smiled. “It will pass.”

“So I've been told.” A careful press of my foot found soft but supportive ground. Gingerly, I crouched and dipped my hand into the cold water, letting it flow through my fingers. “You seem unaffected,” I added. “Have you done a lot of riding?”

The silence was too long for the question. I turned.

Vida stood with her arms wrapped around her body, her face swollen with unshed tears. “My betrothed taught me.”

For a long moment, we were caught in each other's pain— her loss and my dawning guilt. Her betrothed had been one of the villagers.

“I didn't know. I'm sorry,” I whispered. Such inadequate words.

“Lady Dela said you couldn't control it.”

“No.”

Vida nodded, accepting my answer.
“You have to.”

I turned back to the fast-flowing water, away from her sadness. My fingers were numb with cold. I rubbed them on my skirt, forcing warmth into them. I knew I should say something else—a reassurance, or another apology—but by the time I looked back over my shoulder, she was already retreating into the undergrowth.

She would be back; Vida would not disobey her emperor's command. Still, she deserved a few moments to grieve. Although I could not offer any worthwhile consolation, I could at least use the time alone to honor her demand and try to control my power. Even if it was only to ask Kinra to stop aiming her ghostly rage at Kygo and her ancient greed for the pearl into my heart. If I were lucky, she would answer my prayer.

The death plaque pouch was bound tightly under my sash. I pulled it free and loosened the drawstring, then upended it. The two black lacquered finger-lengths of wood slid onto my palm. I picked up the plainer memorial: a thinly etched line bordered the edge, and workmanlike carved characters spelled out “Charra.” My unknown ancestress. I pushed it back into the pouch and returned it for safekeeping under my sash. I had no quarrel with Charra.

The other plaque was far more worn, but the remains of elaborate decoration were still visible. I ran my thumb over the elegantly carved “Kinra”—faintly inlaid with gold—and traced the tiny dragon that snaked under her name like a flourish.

I settled on to my knees. The sodden earth squelched under me, pushing cold water through the layers of skirt and shift. I held out the plaque and closed my hand until I felt its edges through the layers of my bandage.

Kinra, Mirror Dragoneye
, I prayed, and channeled all of my fear and frustration into my tight grip.
Leave me be. Please stop bringing your anger and desire into my heart. Please stop trying to hurt Kygo and take the pearl
.

It was not an elaborate prayer, but I was not a Beseecher. I opened my hand and stared at the relic, overtaken by the memory of a holy man who had preached to us at the salt farm, years ago. He had not only believed that our ancestors resided in the local shrines, but he had insisted that their spirits also inhabited their death plaques. My friend Dolana had dismissed the teaching as a zealot's frenzy. Now I wondered if the holy man had been right. Perhaps that was how Kinra had visited me last night.

At the thought, I jerked my hand back and lost my grip on the plaque. My reflex grab missed. The plaque dropped into the stream and spun into a drift of silt. I launched myself at it, but was pulled up short, my knees anchored in the soggy folds of my skirt. Even as I grabbed for the plaque again, the quick water pulled it from its mooring, out of reach.

I struggled to my feet, slipping on the waterlogged grass along the bank. The plaque was forced up against a tiny dam of twigs and mud, the water dragging it through the disintegrating mound.

I stopped.

Maybe I should let it go. Let the water carry Kinra's treachery away from me. I could close one of her doorways to this earthly plane forever.

Yet, she was my history. My legacy. A link to my family.

The plaque slid into a widening breach.

I wrenched off both sandals, then ripped at the drawstring around my skirt and kicked it off. I plunged into the water, the slap of cold against my shins, knees, thighs forcing my breath out in high gasps. My shift and tunic wrapped around me in a wet weight, the ends of my silk sash flicking and darting from my waist like red carp. The plaque slipped, then caught against the collapsing dam. I waded toward it, the current pressing against my legs. Rocks below shifted under my weight, jarring my ankle bones and scraping at my skin.

The remnants of the tiny dam loosened into a swirling mess of twigs and sediment. The plaque disappeared, then bobbed up. I clutched at it, but only scooped water, the force sending the plaque down again. Had I lost it? Hands ready, I focused fiercely on the dizzying surface. The plaque shot up an arm's length away. I pounced. As my fingers closed around the memorial, my feet slipped and both knees slammed against the rocky bed. Another shock of water soaked me up to my chest. But I was holding the plaque.

Shakily, I found my footing. My pursuit had brought me level with the horses' watering place. I clambered onto the bank, my shift and tunic dripping water down my bruised legs. Cold mud oozed between my toes.

I wiped a smear of silt from the plaque. Kinra was a part of me; casting aside her death plaque would not change my heritage. Nor would it change the burden of her treachery. I ran my hand over my drenched sash and found the pouch—Charra's plaque was safe, too. Sighing my relief, I pulled the dripping bag free, shook off the water, and slotted Kinra's memorial back inside.

“Eona?”

I spun around. Dela stood at the tree line.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine.” I softened the curtness with a quick wave and limped over to my abandoned skirt and sandals.

“His Majesty wants us to assemble. We will be leaving soon.” Dela made her way across the damp ground, picking up her feet as though she wore silk slippers instead of sturdy merchant sandals. She clicked her tongue. “You're soaked.”

We both turned at the sounds of approach. Vida emerged from the forest a few lengths away, pausing as she met our scrutiny. Even from where we stood, I could see her eyes were red from crying.

“Vida,” Dela said. “Do we have dry clothes for Lady Eona?”

“We only have what we're wearing,” Vida said.

“Swap with her then, until hers are dry.”

Vida's jaw shifted.

“No,” I cut in. “We don't have to do that. They'll dry soon enough.” It was not true—nothing dried quickly in these humid monsoon days—but I did not want to add to Vida's resentment.

Dela waved aside my protest. “You can't ride behind the emperor in wet clothes. He may get damp.”

There was no counter to that argument. I soon stood in Vida's gown while she struggled to pull on the waterlogged layers of my skirt, undershift and tunic.

“I'm sorry,” I muttered.

She shot me a dark look.

I tugged at the gaping neckline of the maid's dress. On Vida, it had sat modestly over her curves. On me, it plunged too low, and the wide cut emphasized the jut of my collarbones. I yanked it up again, bunching the loose cloth at the waist in my other hand.

“Here, let me help.” Dela wrapped the rough-spun sash around me. “This will keep it up.”

She tucked and tied until everything was covered, although the neckline was still too low. I pressed my hands over the pale skin of my chest; it was not only my collarbones that were emphasized.

Vida bent and picked up the pouch from the ground. “My lady, do not forget this,” she said, handing it to me.

I was fairly sure that Kinra's death plaque was not as dangerous as her swords, but I still did not want to carry it. “Lady Dela, will you keep this for me?” I held out the pouch. “With the journal?”

Dela eyed the offered bag. “Vida, return to the others,” she said, the dismissal firm. “Tell His Majesty that we are soon behind you.”

Vida cast her a curious glance, but headed back toward the forest. As soon as she was gone from sight, Dela reached across, but her hand grasped my wrist instead of the pouch. “What is going on, Eona?”

I pulled back, but she held fast.

“You will not carry the journal, your swords, or your compass,” she said, “and now you want me to take your ancestors' death plaques. Something is wrong.”

I bit down on my lip. I should have remembered Dela's keen eyes; after all, she had survived the imperial court through quick wits and insight. I had no doubt she wanted to help me— Dela always wanted to help. Yet telling her about Kinra would be just the same as telling Ryko, and he would go straight to the emperor.

“I don't know what you mean,” I said. “Nothing is wrong.” Another jerk of my wrist freed me from her grasp. “His Majesty awaits us.”

I pushed the pouch into the deep pocket of Vida's gown. I would be rid of the ill-fitting dress soon, and with it, Kinra's plaque.

I arrived at the clearing ahead of Dela. She had dropped a few lengths behind me—the distance, no doubt, a silent rebuke for refusing her help. While we had been gone, the camp had been packed away and the horses saddled. The only signs of our occupation were tamped-down grass and a patch of soft muddy ground around the trees where the horses were tied.

The emperor was waiting. He stood with his arms crossed, the rest of our troop kneeling in a loose semicircle before him.

“Lady Eona.” Kygo waved me to his side.

Had he already told them I was his
Naiso?
They all watched as I made my way across the grass, but I saw no shock or disapproval.

They did not know yet.

Kygo's eyes flicked over my body. “You are unhurt?”

“Yes.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Thank you,” I added awkwardly.

Dela's arrival turned his attention from me. The Contraire sank into a low court bow, murmuring apologies. She dropped to her knees beside Ryko as I joined the emperor. With a small nod, he indicated that I should stand behind him, at his left shoulder.

“Traditional position,” he murmured close to my ear. “You guard my weakest side.” The warmth of his breath raised an answering flush in my cheeks.

None of the six tired faces before me seemed to have registered the symbolism of where I stood. But then, why should they? The old emperor had never appointed a
Naiso
, and a female advisor was unthinkable.

Ryko's gaze was still squarely on me, his jaw set. No forgiveness there. Solly was expectant, his ugly face red and shiny from the heat. Vida was smoothing the wet tunic over her thighs, her attention on Kygo. Captain Yuso was his usual watchful self. Next to him, Tiron was excited, but doing his best to copy his superior's calm confidence. I caught Dela's quick sideways glance at Ryko; she was worried about the islander. But then, so was I.

“Ever since the palace was taken,” Kygo said, “we have been reacting to my uncle's strategies. Now it is time for us to act.”

Yuso nodded approvingly.

“You will have noticed the change in the rains and winds,” Kygo continued. “Without the full circle of dragons and their Dragoneyes, our land is not protected from the whims of the weather demons or the angers of the earth.” He glanced back at me. “Nor can Lady Eona control any earth forces by herself. She has no training and, at present, cannot use her power.”

Although his voice was dispassionate, the stark announcement of my failure sent shame through me. I dared not look around the circle; I could feel their disillusion like a thousand pin pricks on my skin.

“Cannot use it at
all
, Your Majesty?” Yuso asked. I winced at the dismay in the man's voice.

“Lady Eona needs training,” Kygo said firmly. “This is why we now go to the palace to free Lord Ido.”

No one moved. All I could hear was the hammering of my heart.

“Free Ido?” Ryko finally said. He sat back on his heels. “You want to free that murdering bastard?”

“Yes, we must free
Lord
Ido.” The emperor's soft emphasis was a warning.

Ryko ducked his head, but his eyes searched the silent semicircle for support. He found it.