Eona: The Last Dragoneye

“I think the pearl is linked to the energy world,” I whispered. And maybe to an ancient traitor, but my fear of Kinra’s influence was lost in the drum of my blood.

He gave a low laugh. “You know it is linked to more than the energy world.”

His wry tone pulled an answering laugh from me, but the entreaty behind his words sent a soft answering surge deep into the delta of my body.

He looked up at the cave roof, his teeth clenching for a moment. “If you touch the pearl, could it bring the ten dragons?”

“Perhaps,” I said, but I could not pull my hand away. “I don’t know.”

I saw his battle against caution, duty against desire. It was my own battle. We stood leaning toward one another, my fingertips hovering above the pearl, our only connection his hand around my wrist. Yet I felt as if his whole body was holding mine.

His head strained back, the pulse in his throat pounding. “Gods’ venom!” he swore, and pushed me away.

I staggered, still caught in the moment, my body reaching toward him.

“Eona, no!” He lowered his head, eyes fierce. “Do not step closer.”

“You do not want to?” I demanded, the shameless words coming from somewhere ancient and thwarted.

“Of course I do,” he ground out. “Are you blind?” He pressed the heel of his hand against his mouth and turned away. This time his laugh was harsh. “It would almost be worth it.”

I balled my fists, trying to find some control of the turmoil that raged through my Hua.

Kygo strode to the upturned table, bent, and, with a deep sound of effort, picked it up and slammed it back onto its legs. For a moment, he stared at the split top, then drove his fist into its edge, pushing the whole table across the floor in a squeal of wood against stone. I winced. He cradled his hand, a trickle of blood between his knuckles.

“Always duty,” I said, my voice caught between tears and resentment.

With his back to me, he leaned both hands on the tabletop, his head bowed. My eyes followed the broad line of his shoulders down to his slim hips.

“We may wish the portent and Sethon’s greater resources away, but we cannot ignore them, Naiso,” he said, his voice rough and deliberate.

Naiso. I closed my eyes. Before, the word had brought sweet unity. Now it was designed for distance.

“We’ll head east again. It is our best fighting ground,” he said. His bloodied hand circled his throat. “And we will get Ido, so you can master Gan Hua.”

A mix of fear and relief pounded through me in time to my heartbeat. “And when I have mastered my power …?” I wet my lips, not sure what I was offering, but offering nonetheless.

He looked around at me, half of his face in shadow. “Then everything changes.”

I bowed my head. Of that I had no doubt.

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE CART HIT a deep rut in the road, jerking me against Vida’s sturdy shoulder. I tightened my grip on the low railing at my back. It had taken us two hot, airless days to reach the city, and although the plan to retrieve Ido had been discussed over and over again, I felt a constant misgiving at its many risks. Not least was the city gate checkpoint ahead.

“You are so bony,” Vida said, her usual forthright tone high and peevish.

We were both dressed in thin, ragged gowns, our hair unbound and matted, skin smeared with dirt. Beside me, Ryko looked up with a frown. He wore the deep blue headscarf of a Trang Dein man — the rebel islanders who had been ruthlessly subdued by the army a year ago — and his heavily muscled torso was bare except for a braided leather band that crossed his chest. He lowered his head over his bound hands. I had not liked that part of the plan; binding our best fighter was madness. Still, we were meant to be a delivery of flesh to the Pleasure Ward, and a Trang Dein man would not go quietly.

“You take too much room,” I whined.

“Better than being a skinny slut,” Vida shot back, for the benefit of the two soldiers approaching the cart.

I pressed myself into the front corner, my heart quickening at the purposeful stride of the men. Dela looked back at us from the driver’s seat. Her hair hung in two greasy hanks from under a cap, and her face was rough with stubble. The cap’s brim was pulled down low to hide the elegant arch of her eyebrows. To all appearances, she was a hired thug. Her eyes flickered over Ryko’s slumped shoulders and raw wrists. He had insisted on having the rope tied so tight it cut into his skin; otherwise it would look suspicious, he’d said. Dela had offered to do it, but he had taken the rope to Yuso.

“Shut up,” Dela snapped at us. “Or you’ll feel my whip.”

A heavy-set soldier raised his hand, and Dela brought the cart to a stop. Behind us, Yuso reined his horse to a standstill and dismounted, tying the animal to the end rail. He bowed to the soldiers. His role was the flesh trader, and I almost believed it myself. A thin beard transformed his seamed face, and the cold look he cast across us held all the concern of a man checking his livestock.

“Where are you heading?” the soldier asked. Narrow, crusted eyes took in Vida and me. His partner walked around the cart, bending to check beneath it.

“Pleasure Ward,” Yuso said.

“You selling these two?”

Yuso nodded.

The soldier brushed a fly from his face. “Who they going to?”

“Mama Momo.”

He grinned. “Maybe I’ll come and visit you, hey, girl?” The soldier poked my bare arm.

I cringed, the hard rails of the cart digging into my back. His damp touch and foul breath brought back the night of the palace coup — Sethon’s soldiers baying with bloodlust, only Ryko standing between me and their brutality.

The soldier gave a low hoot and glanced across at his scrawny comrade. “I reckon no one’s had her.”

“That’s why she worth more than you can afford, friend,” Yuso said, but I could see his jaw tighten. The second soldier laughed.

“I can wait till the price comes down,” the crusty-eyed soldier said. He walked around the end of the cart, his attention turning to Ryko. “Big fellow. You selling him to Momo, too?”

Yuso followed him. They both stood surveying Ryko as if he were horseflesh. “Jumped his bond. The old lady is offering a good reward.”

“Ah.” The soldier glanced down at the islander’s bound wrists, then leaned across and slammed the flat of his hand against Ryko’s forehead, forcing his head up. “You’re lucky I didn’t find you, prickless dog.”

Ryko’s hands lifted, his lips drawn back from his teeth.

Before I could take a breath, Yuso had a knife at the islander’s throat. “Put your hands down.” Ryko lowered his fists. There was no pretense in the violence that raged in his eyes.

“Punchy,” the soldier remarked.

Yuso grabbed the back of Ryko’s neck and shoved his head back down. “Momo probably whores him out, too.”

The soldier laughed uneasily. “I wouldn’t put it past the old witch.” He stepped back and glanced at his companion. “All clear?” The other man nodded and waved us forward.

Yuso resheathed the knife, then untied his horse and swung back into the saddle. He motioned lazily to Dela who, with a click of tongue and sharp prod of the switch, urged the cart horse into reluctant movement. It was a