Eona: The Last Dragoneye

stood and faced one another, my position in their sightlines. I had lost my chance.

Sethon spun Kinra’s sword in his grip. “You’ve just killed your son,” he said. “And yourself.”

Yuso’s hand flexed around the knife hilt. “I am already dead.” He looked at me. “Lady Eona, this buys my son’s safety.”

I felt my whole body tense into expectation.

Yuso ran at Sethon, the short knife raised, his whole body open to attack. Sethon plunged Kinra’s sword into the captain’s chest. The thrust was so hard that I saw the tip emerge between Yuso’s shoulder blades and heard the thump of the hilt spring back against his breastbone. Yuso dropped his knife and grabbed the grip over Sethon’s hand, holding the sword and Sethon against his body. With a deep guttural groan, he swung Sethon around until the man’s back faced us. Sethon jerked at the hilt, trying to withdraw the blade.

“Do it,” Yuso gasped.

Ido sprang forward and drove his long knife up into Sethon’s sacral point, all of his strength behind the strike. Sethon screamed, his body arching, the shock to his Hua locking him against the knife. Ido twisted the blade upward.

“Shall we explore that pain?” he said against Sethon’s ear.

My innards froze; the words and tone were a perfect imitation of Sethon’s torture.

Ido jerked the blade again, forcing a moan from Sethon. “Exhilarating, isn’t it.”

He wrenched Sethon’s weight away from Yuso. Without the brace of the High Lord’s body, Yuso slowly folded to the platform and pitched to one side. The moonstone and jade hilt in his chest hit the wood, sending a shiver of pain through him.

With ruthless efficiency, Ido lowered Sethon to the ground, then rolled him onto his back. He scooped up Yuso’s fallen knife, pressed his foot across Sethon’s wrist, then drove the small blade through the man’s palm, staking him to the wood. I winced as Sethon broke into a long scream, his fingers spasming.

As though Sethon’s yell had roused him, Yuso lifted his head toward me, the effort cording the veins in his neck.

“Maylon,” he gasped. “His name is Maylon. ”

I kneeled beside him. “You betrayed us, Yuso. This is all your fault. Do you expect me to forgive you?”

His eyes focused blearily on Ido. The Dragoneye had pinned Sethon’s free arm with one knee. Sethon strained upward, but Ido punched him in the face with the hilt of the long knife, the impact slamming his head against the boards.

“Ido thinks you are like him,” Yuso said slowly. He coughed, spraying blood. “But you still have mercy in you, don’t you?” His breath sighed out into stillness.

Did I still have mercy? I felt no softness within my heart, and — may the gods help me — I understood the smile of enjoyment on Ido’s face. I rose and placed my foot on Yuso’s rib cage, wrenching Kinra’s sword from his dead body. The burn of her anger whispered its need. Take the pearl. I circled both swords up into readiness, the return of their full fury and strength like a homecoming.

I watched as the Dragoneye flipped the knife in his hand and leaned over Sethon. “What shall I carve into your chest?” His voice still mimicked the High Lord’s caressing tone. “‘Traitor’? ‘Bastard’? How about ‘Always a second son’?”

Sethon tried to pull away from the knife hovering above his breastbone. With an admonishing click of his tongue, Ido pressed the tip of the blade into Sethon’s flesh, dragging it downward in a wash of blood. Sethon screamed again, his head thrashing with pain.

With grim resolution, I walked over to the two men. Take the pearl. With every shuddering heave of Sethon’s chest, the gem rolled across the bloodied hollow between his collarbones, dangling from its four rough stitches. I could carve it from his throat. Feel him writhe and scream; revenge for Kygo’s agony.

“Get back!” I said to Ido.

I raised my sword.

“Wait,” Ido said.

He drove the long knife through Sethon’s other palm, forcing a sobbing scream from the man. Ido looked up at me. His smile was vicious and cruel and held the intimacy of a lover. “Enjoy.”

Sethon’s pain-filled eyes met mine as he strained to rip his hands free of the knives. For a moment, I held the sword tip over his throat. His lips drew back into the snarl of a cornered animal. He deserved the slowest death possible. He deserved pain and fear. But I could not do it. Yuso was right: I still had mercy. With a roar, I plunged both blades through his mutilated chest instead, the resistance of skin and bone jarring my hands.

Sethon gasped, his body lifting into one last thrash. The pearl rolled and settled into the hollow of his throat as the foul stink of his death release filled the air. I yanked one blade free, the man’s dead weight rising with the force and dropping back onto the platform. Swallowing my gorge, I sliced around the stitches and ripped the pearl free. Kinra’s swords had finally fulfilled their mission.

I opened my hand. The Imperial Pearl was heavy and hot— too hot to be holding just the last of Sethon’s body heat.

Ido wrenched the long knife out of Sethon’s palm and wiped the wet blade on his trouser leg. “That was almost as satisfying as I thought it would be.” He looked up at me, one eye squinting in censure. “Although somewhat prematurely ended.” He slid the cleaned knife into the side of his boot. “So where’s the folio?”

He followed my gaze across the platform. Kygo and Dela had killed or driven away the remaining guards and were now trying to scoop the black book from the ground, dodging the whip of white pearls. Dela held her ripped shirt like a net, ready to throw it over the writhing rope of gems. Behind her, Tozay sat slumped, his arm at an awkward angle. It was clear he was hurt. The dark shape of High Lord Tuy lay nearby. At least both brothers were dead.

“Kygo has the folio,” I said. “We can—”

Suddenly I could not speak. My senses were lost in a shock wave of pain that blasted every pathway within me. Kinra’s sword dropped from my grip. My other hand convulsed around the pearl, the gold claw setting slicing into my palm. Through a gray haze, I saw Ido strain backward, his mouth open in a scream, but I could hear only the howl of loss in my own head. The air pressed down around us, then exploded outward. Two huge dragon bodies — red and blue — boomed onto the plain, the backlash of energy knocking me to my knees.

The massive crimson body of the Mirror Dragon — twice the size of the male dragons — filled the eastern gap within the circle. She threw back her head and called, a high ululating sound that throbbed through her long throat. The gleaming fire of her red and orange scales rippled with every shift of muscle. Huge cartwheel eyes shut with effort as she closed the circle with her body and power. Beneath her chin, the gold pearl swelled and pulsed, the song within it soaring over the thrumming shriek of the eleven other dragon pearls.

“Eona,” I whispered, but I knew she could no longer hear me. She was on the earthly plane, and our link was gone. Everything had been scooped out of me. I was hollowed, powerless, and I could not move with the raw pain of it.

“No!” It was the husk of Ido’s voice, cracked and devastated.

With a roar, his blue beast answered the red dragon’s call, delicate wings extending as one opal claw lifted and raked the air.

I turned my head. All my bones had dried into stiff desolation. “Ido, I can’t call her.”

Ido’s body was a knot of agony, his fists pressed into his forehead. “They’ve closed the circle.” Panting, he slowly raised his head and scanned the dragons. “We don’t have much time.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

DARK CLOUDS ROILED across the sky to form a circle above the twelve beasts on the ground. The still air shifted into a warm breeze that held the scent of sweet spices and salty sweat. And underneath it all was the dank piss-and-blood smell of battlefield death.

I heard the pound of running feet. Kygo’s voice penetrated my pain.

“Eona, are you hurt?” He crouched beside me. A long cut across his shoulder bled in thin streaks down his