Eona: The Last Dragoneye

If I said yes, I would step into a quicksand of influence and responsibility.

If I said no, I would lose that trust and his good opinion. I would lose the way he leaned toward me as if what I said was worth an emperor’s attention.

Could I be what he wanted me to be? A king’s conscience.

I took a deep breath and within in it was a prayer to any god who listened: Help me be his truth. And help me know my own truth.

“I am honored to be your Naiso, Majesty,” I said, and bowed.

“As I am honored by your acceptance,” he said, a grin overtaking the formality. “You may call me Kygo; the emperor and the Naiso meet as equals.”

I tensed. No doubt he believed what he said, but I had seen his idea of equality weeks ago, in the Pavilion of Earthly Enlightenment. The pavilion was supposedly a place where minds of all rank could meet, but when his teacher had crossed his will, suddenly equality had been forced into a groveling bow. There seemed to be many levels of equality; I had to find which one he meant for me.

“There is another part to that old maxim know your enemy, Kygo,” I said, stumbling over his name. “‘Know yourself.’ What is your weakness? What will High Lord Sethon use against you?”

“Inexperience,” he said promptly.

“Perhaps.” I narrowed my eyes and tried to see this young man as his uncle would see him. Inexperienced, by his own admission. Untried in war, but courageous and well trained. Progressive and merciful, like his sire, and upholding the same ideals — the very ideals that Sethon hated. “I think your weakness is that you seek to emulate your father.”

He drew back. “I do not consider that a weakness.”

“Nor do I,” I said quickly, “but I think High Lord Sethon will. He has already defeated your father once.”

He flinched at my blunt appraisal. I dared not move — dared not breathe — in case his idea of our equality did not match mine.

“My heart does not want to believe you, Naiso,” he said. “But my gut says you are right. Thank you.”

And then he bowed.

It was no more than a dip of his head, but it sent a chill through me.

It was too much equality. Too much trust. I had done nothing to deserve an emperor’s bow. I had not even fulfilled my first duty as Naiso: to bring him the truth, however difficult and dangerous. And the truth that I still kept hidden was very dangerous, indeed.

He had offered me his trust. If I was to be his Naiso, I had to offer him the proof that I too could be trusted.

“I cannot call my dragon.” Even as the words left my mouth, I wanted to claw them back.

His head snapped up. “What?”

“I cannot use my power.”

He stared at me. “At all?”

“If I try, the ten beasts who have lost their Dragoneyes rush us. Everything around me is destroyed.”

“Holy gods!” He rubbed at his forehead as if the pressure would force the bad news into his head. “When did you find this out?”

“At the fishing village. When I healed Ryko.”

“Tell me,” he said sternly. “Everything.”

With a tight hold on my emotions, I described calling the Mirror Dragon, healing Ryko, and the destructive force of the other beasts as they sought union with us. Finally, I told him about Lord Ido’s return.

“Are you saying you cannot use your power without Ido?”

“No! I am saying that he knows how to stop the other dragons, and I don’t. I’ve had no training. I was beginning to learn, but then—” I shrugged. He knew only too well the events that had stopped my training.

“What about the red journal? You told me it had the secrets of your power.”

“I’m hoping it has the secrets,” I said. “It is written in an old form of Woman Script, and in code. Dela is deciphering it as fast as she can, but even if she could read the whole book to me now, it would be of no use. If I called my dragon to practice its secrets, the other beasts would overwhelm me before I could do anything.”

“So you need Ido,” he said acidly. “You need him to train you and hold back the dragons.”

I wrapped my arms around my legs and dug my chin into my kneecap.

“Do you, or do you not need Ido?” Kygo’s voice sharpened into command.

“He’s probably dead, anyway.”

“We need to know if he is or not. You saw through his eyes once. Can you do it again?

“No!” I looked over my shoulder, afraid my vehemence had woken the rest of the camp. Yuso half drew his sword, but no one else stirred.

Kygo raised his hand, forestalling the guard’s approach. “Eona, we need to know if he is still alive. However much I despise the man, Ido is the only trained Dragoneye left.”

He had used my name without title. The small, sweet honor was overwhelmed by the danger of his request.

“I cannot risk calling my dragon,” I whispered. “People die.”

This time I could not hold back the memories: the fisher house crumbling around me; the pressure of wild power deep in my core; the hammering need of the sorrowing beasts; and the Rat Dragon, launching himself at them with savage speed.

The Rat Dragon! If he was in the circle, then there was a Rat Dragoneye still alive. And if it was Ido, then maybe I would feel his presence again through the dragon.

I clutched Kygo’s arm. “I can just look into the energy world. If Ido lives, I’m sure I will feel his Hua!”

“You just said the other dragons would rip you apart.”

“No, not if I don’t call my power. I’ll just go in, look, and get out again as fast as possible.”

“And that will be safe?”

“It will be safer than calling my dragon.”

“Do it,” he said. “But be careful.”

I hesitated. Was it safer? “If anything starts to change”—I pointed up at the night sky—“like the wind or the clouds, pull me back. Immediately.”

“How?”

“Shake me. Yell in my ear. Punch me if you have to. Just don’t let me stay in the energy world.”

With an uneasy glance skyward, he nodded.

Ignoring my fear, I sat back and focused on my breathing, slowly deepening each inhalation until I eased into mind-sight. The shadowy forest buckled and shivered into a cascade of colors and flowing light. As I concentrated on the movement of Hua, the energy world coalesced. Above, the faded outline of the Rat Dragon was still in the north-northwest. And I still felt Ido’s presence as if he watched me. He was alive, although the pallor and languor of his beast did not bode well. In the east, my beautiful Mirror Dragon glowed red. She stirred, her presence sliding around me, questioning. She had never done that before. I longed to answer her and feel the swell of power within me, but I could not risk the rush of the ten bereft dragons. I forced my attention away from the red beast. Yet the taste of her cinnamon still spiced my tongue.

Beside me, the figure of Kygo had faded into transparency. Silvery Hua pumped through the twelve pathways of his body, and his seven points of power — spaced evenly from sacrum to crown — spun with vitality.

My eyes were drawn to a pale glow in the line of bright whirling spheres. Unlike the others, it did not move but throbbed with silver energy at the base of his throat. The Imperial Pearl. Its power drew me, its soft fire caressing my skin as I reached across and brushed my fingers over its luminous beauty. The warm cinnamon in my mouth echoed the heat from the pearl. It was so close; I could tear it from its mooring. My palm cupped its weight, my fingertips resting on Kygo’s throat, his pulse quickening under my touch.