Eona: The Last Dragoneye

With shaking hands, the physician removed a small porcelain bottle from the box and pulled the stopper. The edge of a harsh scent burned the back of my throat. The bottle was thrust under Ido’s nostrils. Gasping a ragged breath, the Dragoneye jerked back his head. His eyes opened, each black center like a pinpoint.

“Lady Eona,” Sethon said. “Compel Lord Ido’s power.”

I fought the command, straining to block the force that gathered my power. The physician grabbed his red box and scrambled back as Ido hauled himself onto his feet. I felt his Hua leap within him as he groped for the energy world. Sethon’s compulsion slammed my power through him. The force beat back Ido’s call to his dragon and locked his body into a crouch. His frantic heartbeat slid under mine, both rhythms trapped inside Sethon’s — and my — compulsion. Beyond him, Ryko screamed and doubled over beneath the press of power.

For a moment, everything was silent.

Slowly Ido raised his eyes and took in the platform. “Not what I was hoping for,” he rasped.

“Welcome back, Lord Ido,” Sethon said. He kicked the Dragoneye in the ribs. Ido slumped forward as a roar of excitement rose from the soldiers. “Make him bow to me, Lady Eona.”

The command reached through me into Ido and slammed his forehead to the platform, forcing a groan from him.

Sethon pressed his booted foot on Ido’s neck. He smiled at his brother. “You see, I am the master of the last two Dragoneyes.” He raised his voice into a battle cry. “I will never be defeated!”

The soldiers, still caught in their bloodlust, chanted, “Never defeated, never defeated!”

High Lord Tuy bowed and sank back into his chair. Sethon lifted his boot and looked at me. “Get him up on his knees,” he commanded.

The blood energy lifted Ido’s head and chest from the platform and held him upright. He swayed, the struggle against the compulsion rippling through our link.

“I see that Lady Eona has restored you completely, Lord Ido.” Sethon reached over and drew his thumb across the thin nose and smooth modeling of cheekbone and jaw. The Dragoneye’s nostrils flared at his touch, but he could not pull away. Sethon closed his fist. “I am glad you are back to your former self. We can start again.” The sudden crack of bone against bone jerked Ido’s head to one side.

Sethon grabbed his hair and pulled his head upright again. “Is that fear in your eyes, Lord Ido?”

“It is disgust,” Ido said.

Sethon laughed. “Brave words.” He motioned to the two hunters. “If Lord Ido moves, send him back to the shadow world.” The two men bowed in compliance.

I felt a rise of savage hope — Sethon was not so sure he could hold us both in his power.

“Come, Lady Eona,” he said. “You can watch one of your lovers die.”

He yanked me to my feet and pulled me off the dais, steering me toward Kygo. We stopped in front of Ryko, still bent double and panting.

“What is wrong with him?” Sethon said.

I pushed all the hate I held for him into my silence. I was not going to offer Sethon anything, let alone information about my power.

Sethon turned to Yuso. “What do you know of this?”

Yuso bowed. “When Lady Eona compels Lord Ido, the islander can feel it. Even the most intimate of energies. I believe it goes the opposite way, too.”

“Really?” Sethon smiled at me. “We will test it later.” He shoved me to my knees a few lengths from Kygo and called over one of the hunters. “Watch over Lady Eona.”

Although I registered the hunter’s hot hand on the back of my neck, all of my being was focused on Kygo — and his on me. Sweat dripped from his forehead and temples, and every line of his face was tight with fear, but I saw the fierce hope in his eyes, and I gave a tiny nod. I will try, I will try, I told him with my heart.

And then Sethon stepped between us. Kygo met his scrutiny with a steady gaze.

“So, nephew, it comes to this,” Sethon said. He bent and stroked the pearl with a thick forefinger, his triumph releasing in a long breath.

“The throne and the land is my right,” Kygo said evenly, although he tilted his chin away from his uncle’s caressing hand.

“Your right?” Sethon shook his head. “I should have had the throne long ago instead of your feeble father.”

“My father nurtured this land,” Kygo said. “You have already torn it apart for your own glory.”

“The same could be said for you and your attempts on my throne.” Sethon glanced at the physician waiting nearby. “Is everything prepared? I want this to be quick. Twelve stitches, in no more than twelve breaths. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The man’s grip on the needle and gold thread shook as if he had palsy. “But it is in the throat, Your Majesty. It will be painful and if you move, I may not—”

“I will not move,” Sethon snapped. “Wait on the dais for me.”

The physician bowed and retreated to the small stage.

Sethon motioned to the soldier behind Kygo. “Brace his head.”

I felt my whole body clench. The man — an older soldier— cupped Kygo’s chin and forehead and pulled his head back. Kygo tensed as Sethon raised Kinra’s sword.

“Naiso,” he breathed.

I shuffled forward on my knees, but felt the hunter’s warning hand on my shoulder.

Kygo’s voice cracked. “Look after the land.”

I nodded. His face blurred through my tears.

“Keep him still,” Sethon ordered the man holding Kygo’s head. “I do not want to damage the pearl.”

The soldier pulled Kygo back more firmly against his chest. “Forgive me, prince,” he whispered.

Kygo paled. “You are killing your king,” he said.

Sethon rested the tip of Kinra’s sword at the edge of the pearl. The steel would finally have what it craved.

“Eona.” Kygo looked past the blade to find me. “It was never just the power. You know that, don’t you?”

Before I could nod, the raw love in his eyes dilated into shock as Sethon pushed the tip of the blade into his throat. His sharp inhalation rasped with wet agony as he twisted against the grip of his guards. I cradled his gaze in mine, every slice into his flesh tearing through my spirit. Blood gushed over his bare chest and down the steel.

Sethon pulled the pearl free. ”I have it!” He dropped Kinra’s sword, blood spraying as it spun and landed next to Kygo’s feet.

The men below us roared. All I could see was the gaping wound in Kygo’s throat. His three guards released his arms and legs and jumped back as his body folded heavily onto the platform. Motionless. Then his chest moved, the soft wet sound of his breath the most precious sound I had ever heard.

Sethon triumphantly held up the pearl. He turned, and in a few strides was up on the dais and in the gilded chair. Everyone’s attention was on him as he pressed the pearl against the hollow of his throat.

“Now,” he ordered the physician. “Quick.”

He pushed his body back in the chair and braced.

Twelve stitches. Twelve breaths.

I gathered my rage and my Hua, waiting for Sethon’s pain. Waiting for the first stitch. My best chance. Sweat gathered under my arms and at the small of my back. On the dais, Sethon’s hands tightened around the arms of the chair. I heard him grunt as the needle pierced his flesh. The shock of pain resonated through his clamp of control around my power. Ryko’s head lifted — he had felt it, too.

With all my strength I strained against the blood force. The grip shivered, flexed, then clamped down on me again. Too strong.

Another stitch rippled into the dark energy. I threw all my Hua against it, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. It shifted, then closed once more. I couldn’t break through.

The pool of blood was growing around Kygo’s throat. How many breaths had passed? Five, six? I was running out of time and chances.