Eona (28 page)

The young Blossom Woman reached across and pushed my wet hair behind my ear, then pursed her lips thoughtfully. I tried not to stare, but it was hard to resist the draw of her face. Madina had spoken of the four seats of beauty, and Moon Orchid had them all, in abundance. Thick, soft hair dressed high to accentuate her broad forehead; wide eyes with a hint of clever mischief in them; lips that called for a fingertip to trace their shape; and a long, smooth throat, all in a harmony of spirit that brought a pang to the heart.

“I don't think she can be an Orchid,” Momo said. “Her face and voice would pass, but she moves like a delivery boy.” She glanced down at me. “No offense, my lady.”

I hitched up the drying cloth again and shrugged. Compared to Moon Orchid's languorous grace, I did move like a boy.

Moon Orchid tilted her head. “It will have to be a Peony, and we will hope that she is not asked to play for them.” She eyed me for a moment. “I don't suppose you have any skill with a lute?”

I shook my head.

Momo reached across and tilted my face, inspecting my jaw. “The Peony paint will also cover that bruise. We do not want the vultures to circle.” She touched Moon Orchid's arm. “Will you begin? I'll see to Vida.”

She crossed the room to where the resistance woman sat on her own stool. “You, my dear, will be a Safflower. But let me give you a few words of warning about …”

“I think Mama Momo is too harsh,” Moon Orchid whispered, diverting my attention. “You could pass as an Orchid.” She smiled and handed me a long strip of cloth. “Please pull your hair back, my lady, and we'll get started.”

I wrapped the cloth around my head, tucking in the loose strands of hair.

“You should take off your pendant, too, or it may get paint on it.”

I lifted the leather thong over my head, pulling Kygo's amulet from under the edge of the drying cloth. For a moment, Moon Orchid's eyes fixed on the swinging gold ring. Her long throat convulsed in a hard swallow.

“Kygo's—I mean, His Majesty's blood ring,” she said. “Why do you have it? Is he all right?”

I pulled it back from her avid gaze. “He gave it to me,” I said.

How did she know it was Kygo's ring? The obvious answer was like a slap across the face. We stared at each other, her beauty sending another pang through me, discordant and sour.

“Is he well?” she asked.

“He was this morning.” I closed my fingers around the ring.

Moon Orchid turned and pressed a brush into the white face paint, her smooth brow creased. Even a frown did not detract from her beauty. She took a deeper breath, withdrew the brush, and wiped the excess on the side of the pot. When she turned back to me, her face was once again serene. She placed the brush alongside my nose and gently stroked the cool paint onto my skin.

“The ring is very important to him,” she said. Her eyes flicked up from her task. “He must think highly of you.”

No doubt she saw my cheeks redden.

“It is to protect us on the mission,” I said.

“Yes, of course.” She smiled and charged the brush again. A small silence settled as she painted the other side of my face and my forehead in broad strokes.

I wet my lips. “How long have you known him?”

She looked up from under her long lashes. “I have not seen him since Her Majesty, the Empress Cela, walked the golden path to her ancestors.”

She had not answered my question, but something narroweyed within me was pleased that she had not seen him for a year.

Moon Orchid turned from the paint pot again. “He is a very handsome man.” Another long stroke ended at my chin. “Although his heavenly rank creates tension for his earthly body.”

I pulled back from the brush. Its white tip hung between us, pointed like her comment.

“How is that?” I finally asked, curiosity overwhelming my unease.

“To be so sacred that one cannot be touched. It builds both a hunger and a restraint.” The soft brush followed the shape of my mouth. “A conflict that is mirrored in his spirit.” She stopped painting, her face polite. “Or perhaps you disagree, my lady?”

For a searing moment, I felt Kygo's hand around my wrist again and saw the strong line of his jaw as his head strained back, fighting for control. I drew in a breath, meeting Moon Orchid's watchful gaze. “You know him well, then.”

A small shrug, and the brush swirled through the paint again. “Well enough to know that he has given you more than just a god's protection with that ring.”

I opened my hand and we both looked down at the thick band. I knew it meant more—it had been in the touch of his hand and the soft urgency of his voice—but I still wanted to know what she thought he had given me.

There was no need for me to ask: Moon Orchid was a practiced reader of desire. She put down the brush, her dark eyes suddenly much older than the smooth beauty of her face.

“He has given you his blood, and the moment when he crossed into manhood,” she said, and pressed my fingers around the ring again. Her smile was as tight as my heart.

For a moment I felt victorious, as though I had won some silent battle between us. Then I looked down at her hand enclosing my own, and in my mind all I could see were those long, pale fingers moving slowly across Kygo's sacred skin.

I had not even stepped into the arena.

After what seemed an age, Mama Momo circled me again, Dela by her side.

“You have done a beautiful job, my dear,” she said to Moon Orchid. “Do you not agree, Lady Dela?”

Dela smiled her agreement, although her face was troubled. She had joined us early in the preparations, like a moth drawn to the flame of femininity in the room. She had sat beside me as Moon Orchid finished painting my face, and I had watched her large-knuckled hands hover over the brushes and paint, her eyes judging the deft darkening of my lashes and reddening of my lips. I could almost feel the ache in her to shave off her stubble and paint back the contours of her true self.

“Are you all right?” I whispered, when Moon Orchid had stepped away for a moment.

Dela had put down the pot she was holding, her lip caught between her teeth. “Every day, Ryko sees me in this man's garb. It is difficult enough for me, let alone him.”

I touched her arm. “It does not matter. He knows who you really are.”

“Then why do I see him withdrawing from me?” she asked.

“I don't think it is you,” I had said grimly. “I think it is me.”

Across the room, Vida stared at her completed Safflower reflection in a large mirror that stood against the wall. She touched the glass, pulling back as her finger met the hard surface. I remembered my own shock at seeing the whole length of my body for the first time in the arena mirror; the sudden shift from living within flesh to viewing it, a collection of form and contour that was myself, but at the same time outside myself. Quickly, Vida averted her eyes from those in the precious glass; perhaps she did not want to see her spirit in its depths. She watched her reflected hand trace the curve of her waist. Her body was swathed in diaphanous blue cloth that in some places was only one layer thick, showing the sheen of oiled skin, and in others, three or four layers, hiding everything but shape. She frowned and stepped back, her cheeks flushed.

“It will be hard to fight in this,” she said. “It is very tight. And I cannot hide a weapon.”

“You would not get one past the guards anyway,” Momo said. “Come, Lady Eona.” She beckoned me over to the mirror. “See yourself transformed.”

I gathered the skirt of my pink and green gown and walked over to the mirror, both eager and afraid to see my reflection.

A fine-boned woman watched me warily from the smooth glass, her large eyes made larger by the charcoal definition of lashes and brows. Her thick hair, braided into three crown coils and pinned with a beautiful fall of gold flowers, added height to her small frame. Her mouth was painted into a stylized flower bud that was oddly melancholy, its natural upward curve hidden in the white paint that softened a stubborn chin and created an elegant length of throat.

I blinked, bringing the separate parts of my face into a whole. The woman before me was pretty, but not beautiful like Moon Orchid. My eyes followed the downward sweep of white paint to the hollow of my throat. It had been left unpainted, a jewel of smooth, natural skin that hinted at what lay beneath the clinging sheath of pink and green silk and the tight binding of the embroidered sash.

“Although she is completely covered, the message is still very obvious,” Dela said wryly.

“That is our art,” Momo said.

I shook my head. “I cannot do this.” I stepped away from the mirror. “I am not feminine enough. I will walk like a boy and give us away.”

“Nonsense. You were skilled enough to fool everyone into believing you were a boy for years. I'm sure you can now manage a Peony.” Momo led me back to the mirror and stood me in front of it again. “Look at yourself. You are a beautiful Peony, a highly skilled artist whose company is reserved for the rich and powerful. Every other man will be busy unwrapping you with his eyes. They will not see anything beyond that.”

I pressed my lips together, tasting the waxy red ocher of the paint. I knew Momo was right: the soldiers would not see anything beyond the promise of my body. Not at first, anyway. Even Kygo's gaze had changed when I had finally told him I was a girl. He had been furious, of course, but as he recast me in the mold of woman, I had felt my body became a possibility to him, and my flesh the sum of what I was. At the time, it had shamed and infuriated me.

I stared into the mirror and a small smile shifted across the reddened flower-bud mouth. Part of me wished Kygo were here to see me in the gown and paint. Would he think me beautiful? I glanced across at Moon Orchid. Not if she was in the room. Still, he had made me his
Naiso
, and kissed me even when I had been stinking of horse and sweat, and covered in mud. I
was
more than just a body to him.

A small doubt slid through my thoughts like a honed dagger. It was possible that my body had never had anything to do with it. Perhaps he did not want Eona—just “the thousand lightning strikes tipped with pleasure.” Was that why he had not sought my company on the ride to the city—since I dared not touch the pearl, I was of no use? I looked at Moon Orchid again. He could have any woman he wanted. Why would he choose me?

Perhaps he did not even see Eona when he looked at me. Perhaps all he could see was dragon power.

Mama Momo guided me away from the mirror. “If all goes smoothly, you won't be in the company of the officers for long, anyway,” she said. “Tell me the plan again.”

We had been through it twice already while I was being painted, but she was right to insist. “One of Sethon's half- brothers is hosting the party—High Lord Haio. He has requested only lower rank girls, so when he sees me among the others, he will complain.”

Momo nodded. “He is tighter than a fish's bum and won't want to pay for a Peony he did not order.”

“I then explain that there has been a mistake, and that Vida and I are a gift for the emperor from the Blossom Houses: a Peony for music and song, and a Safflower for the more base arts.” I paused. “What if Haio decides he wants a Peony after all?” I did not have a clear idea of what would happen at such a party, but I knew it would not be safe for either of us.

“He will not want to interfere with his brother's pleasure—with good reason. Haio will have a steward escort you to Sethon.”

“Ryko, Yuso, and Dela will intercept us,” I continued. “We'll get rid of the steward and make our way to Ido.”

“Do not miss that opportunity.” Momo gripped my arm to emphasize the warning.

“We know,” Vida said.

“We get into Ido's cell. I heal him, then we make our way to the east wall of the palace, where the resistance will be waiting with horses and an escape route out of the city.” I looked at the somber faces around me. “Let's hope the gods are with us.”

“They should smile upon you just for the sheer audacity of it all,” Momo said. She turned to Dela. “Are you sure you cannot do this without risking Lady Eona? I could have her meet you outside the palace.”

“I have to be there to heal Ido and control him,” I said, before Dela could answer. I was afraid of going into the palace, but I was just as frightened of losing my one chance of rescuing the only man who could train me in my dragon power.

Momo sighed, then beckoned to Moon Orchid. “Take Vida and Lady Dela to the top room, my dear. Yuso and Ryko are waiting.” She smiled at me. “Lady Eona, will you stay a few moments longer?”

I crossed my arms. “What for?”

Did she think she could persuade me to stay out of the palace?

“I would speak to you about Ryko,” she said in an undertone.

Dela turned back, ignoring Moon Orchid's gentle ushering toward the door. “Ryko? What about Ryko?”

Momo's eyebrows rose at her tone. “It is a matter between Lady Eona and myself.”

Dela's chin lifted. “Ryko is my guard. I will stay, too.”

“Your guard?” Momo echoed.

It was no longer strictly true, but both Dela and Ryko seemed to be clinging to the formal bond that had first brought them together. I caught the silent plea in Dela's eyes.

“Lady Dela will stay,” I said. My support was not all for Dela's sake; I did not want to face Momo alone. Especially about Ryko.

Momo's lips thinned, but she nodded and waved Moon Orchid and Vida from the room.

“You are killing him,” she said flatly when the door had slid shut behind them. “This possession of his will—it is withering his spirit.”

I tightened my arms across my chest. “I did not ask for it.”

“Yet you keep on doing it. I have spoken to him.”

“Only twice,” Dela said. “And Lady Eona has promised—”