like acid flowing through the body for hours afterward.”
I found myself swallowing in sympathy. “Does your uncle know about the pearl dying?”
“Of course. Twelve-breaths-twelve-stitches is taught to all royal males in line for the throne.”
“Then he must take you alive so that he can transfer the pearl to his own throat safely.”
He shook his head. “You seem very sure my uncle will ignore Rightful Claim.”
I steeled myself for what I was about to say. “Your uncle has slaughtered your mother and brother, and poisoned your father. Why would he stop at you?”
Had I gone too far? I knew my words had struck their target — it was in the widening of his eyes — but I refused to flinch. The emperor may have felt blood rage at the news of his family’s death, but he had not seen Sethon’s sword impale his infant brother. Nor had he seen the bloody corpses of the palace household, nor his uncle spurring his troops into baying savagery. Someone had to tell him how things stood.
Still, it took all of my will not to drop into a kowtow.
Nearby, Vida dug through a saddlebag; Tiron conferred with Solly; and Dela wearily loosened her hair from its tight binding — none of them aware that their emperor thought he could just walk into the palace and take back his throne.
“You are very blunt, Lady Eona,” he finally said. He pressed his hands against his eyes. “I’m a fool. My father stubbornly trusted his brother, and now here I am, doing exactly the same thing.” His long sigh relinquished the hope of a bloodless claim. “Of course you are right. He will try and take the pearl. He certainly will not be the first to think he can steal its power.”
The emperor knew the history of the pearl; perhaps he knew about Kinra. Here was my chance to discover if the memories that came with her swords were true, if my blood was truly tainted. In the space of a quickened heartbeat, I fought a battle between risk and opportunity.
“Like Kinra,” I said, and the two words took all of my breath.
He lowered his hands, startled. “How did you hear of Kinra?”
I scrabbled for a plausible story. “I–I saw her name in one of Lord Brannon’s record scrolls.” His surprise faded. “It only said she tried to steal the pearl. Was she an assassin, Your Majesty?”
“No, just a Blossom Woman. She nearly bewitched the pearl from Emperor Dao. He had her executed as a traitor by the Twelve Days of Torture.” He leaned closer. “I’ve heard the executioners can keep someone alive for days even after they have cut out the main organs. Something to keep in mind for my uncle.”
I turned away, hoping my face did not betray me. The stories were not the same — somehow my ancestress had become prostitute rather than Dragoneye — but in my vision, I had been Kinra, caressing an emperor’s throat, stroking the pearl. Perhaps the stories were not so far apart. Was this how she was erased from history, reduced from Dragoneye Queen to treacherous whore?
The emperor touched my arm. “My apologies, Lady Eona, I did not mean to frighten you.”
I rallied a weak smile. “I think I am just tired, Your Majesty.”
A gesture brought Vida to his side. “Bring Lady Eona some food. And a rug.” He stood. “I will leave you to rest.”
In a few strides he was beside Tiron, advising the guard on Ju-Long’s rubdown. I prayed he would rethink his strategy and return to our goal of the east. Although he had inherited his father’s misguided loyalties and sense of tradition, it also seemed he had inherited his mother’s flexible mind and quick insight.
“I will take that to Lady Eona,” I heard Ryko say.
Before I could prepare myself, the big islander was standing before me. He held out a piece of hard-bread and a gnarled strip of dried meat.
“Thank you.” I took the bread, avoiding his eyes.
His free hand clenched into a fist. “How did you control me?”
“I don’t know.” I looked up at him. His mouth was tight with disbelief. “Ryko, I truly don’t know!”
“Why, then?”
“There had been enough death.”
“Can you do it whenever you want to?” His stern expression could not mask the fear in his voice.
Dela crossed over to us. “What is this about, Ryko?” She laid her hand on his arm. “You are towering over
He shrugged off her hold.
“Power over your will?” Dela repeated, but her eyes questioned me.
“It’s true,” I said, lowering my voice, “but I don’t know how. It’s as if a link opens between us when things are desperate.”
“Is it only Ryko? Do you have power over anyone else?” she asked.
“No, only Ry—” I stopped, overwhelmed by a sudden, unwelcome truth. “Yes. Lord Ido, too. It is not completely the same, but they both have some kind of link.”
“Ryko and Lord Ido,” Dela said slowly, thoughtfully. “What is the connection?”
“Nothing connects us,” Ryko said coldly. “I have nothing in common with that whoreson.”
“Not true,” Dela said. Dawning comprehension paled her face. She shot an anxious glance at me. “Both of you have been healed by Lady Eona.”
We looked at one another, the logic undeniable.
“The exchange of
He caught his breath. “So this is the price for life? To have my free will ripped from me? To be forced into action that is contrary to my nature?”
“I didn’t know!”
Dela broke in. “It was I who begged Lady Eona to heal you.”
“Then you have done me a disservice, lady,” Ryko said harshly. “Have I not already given enough for this cause? Now I don’t even have my own will.”
“But I could not let you die,” Dela said tightly. Again, she reached out to him, but he stepped back.
I caught Dela’s hand. This was not the time for her to declare her feelings. “Perhaps there is a way to break the link,” I said. “In the folio.”
“I will search,” she promised.
Ryko glared at me. “And if there is no way, am I your creature forever?”
“I will not use it again,” I said. “I swear.”
“All well and good. But you are a proven liar, and I cannot stop you.”
“Ryko!” Dela protested.
He shot her a savage look, and walked to the other side of the clearing.
“He does not mean it,” Dela said, her eyes following him. She squeezed my hand, then let it go. “I will start searching now.”
She pulled the journal from her tunic, and headed over to a shrinking patch of late sunlight.
Slowly, I opened my other hand; the rough hard-bread had left a deep ridge in my palm. I could not blame Ryko for his rage; I had been just as angry when Lord Ido wrested away my own will. And now, if Dela was correct, I had some kind of lasting link with Ido, born from healing his stunted heart-point.
I shuddered. I did not want power over Ido. I did not want anything to do with him. Yet his final cry still stretched between us like the anchoring thread of a spider web.
“My lady,” Vida said, interrupting my dark thoughts. She was holding a worn rug. “Something for you to sleep on.”
Murmuring my thanks, I took the roll of thin cloth and spread it out behind me. Each shift of my rump made my hips ache. Fatigue dragged at my every move. It was even too much effort to chew the tough hard-bread. I made do with another piece of fruit from the waist-string, then gingerly lowered myself onto the rug. For a moment, I was aware of the unforgiving ground and the smell of old leaves and earth, and then sleep claimed me.
I was woken by the insistent need to relieve myself. The half-moon was high, silvering the outline of the tree canopy. The roosting birds had given way to the screech of night hunters and the deafening shrill of insects. Through half-open eyes, I saw the shadowy shapes of huddled, sleeping bodies and the watchful figure of someone
