Eona: The Last Dragoneye

sweat was overwhelming.

Forcing a smile, I bent into a walking bow and led the women into the room. I did not dare look up at the circle of men; they would see my fear as if it were a black mark upon my face. I kneeled, placed the lute before me, and sank into a kowtow, the other women following my lead. The straw matting stank of spilled rice wine and brought a rise of nausea into my throat. I clenched my jaw, fighting for poise. A Peony would not shift with nerves or spew vomit on the feet of her clients.

“Rise.”

I sat back and met the frown of High Lord Haio. His features held the echo of his two older half-brothers’—the forehead was the same as the old emperor’s, and the eyes were as cold as Sethon’s, but set closer. Haio’s mouth, however, was all his own: small and mean and currently pursed into petulance.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

For a moment my mind scrabbled—What am I called, what am I called? Then my memory found a foothold: Vida snapping at Black Teeth.

“I am Fortune Peony.” Relief brought a real smile. I bowed again.

“Well, I didn’t order a Peony,” he said. “Is this some kind of ploy to create business?”

Momo was right, thank the gods. He was a tight arse. “There seems to be have been a misunderstanding, my lord.” I motioned to Vida, kneeling at my side. “My house sister and I are meant as a gift for your brother, His Royal Majesty, the emperor. A token of goodwill from the houses of the Blossom World.”

Behind me, I felt unease ripple through the women. A soft vibration of dread.

Haio grunted. “A gift, you say?”

“Why didn’t we think of such a gift?” a red-faced man said. He and his neighbor clinked their wine bowls together. “We could do with a bit of His Majesty’s favor, general. We always get the dregs of gear and men.”

Haio looked across at his officers. “You are right in that.” He wiped his nose with a thick finger and studied me. “We could take this gift to my brother ourselves,” he said slowly. “He doesn’t need to know it came from the Blossom World.”

I stiffened and heard Vida’s sharp intake of air as the men around the table laughed.

I clasped my hands together. “My lord—”

Haio pointed at me. “And you can shut up about who sent you, or I’ll find you and cut up that pretty face so you’re no good anymore. Understand?”

I ducked my head.

“We could keep the Safflower,” Red Face said, peering at Vida. “Just give His Majesty the Peony.”

“Keep her?” Haio mused.

“My lord,” I said, fighting to keep my voice calm, “my house sister is one of His Majesty’s favorites. I would not want your lordship to unknowingly cross your revered brother. “

Haio rubbed at his jaw. “Favorite.” He picked up a wine bowl and tossed back its contents. “There’s enough flesh here for everyone.” He scowled at the men in the circle. “No need to be greedy.” He hauled himself onto his feet, swayed slightly, and pointed at Red Face and three other subordinates. “Let’s give my brother a late New Year’s gift.” Haio beckoned to Vida and me. “Come on.” He glared at the men still kneeling at the table, his finger swinging around in warning. “Don’t you dogs start without us.”

I glanced across at Vida. What could we do? Her shoulder lifted slightly. We could do nothing. Not yet. I bent into a low bow again, drew back, and picked up the lute. It would be good for one blow, at least — if I got the chance. It did not look likely; we would be surrounded by five experienced soldiers, not just one or two stewards. I blinked through a sudden blur of panic and forced myself to stand. First things first: get out of the apartment.

I walked around the kneeling women, Vida close behind me. For a moment, I met the wide eyes of Black Teeth. There was such fear in her face — fear for us.

Haio slammed back the screen door and lurched into the foyer. Two of the men fell in behind Vida, their looming presence pushing us both into a faster walk. I glanced back. They were not drunk — their focus was too sharp — and each had a dagger sheathed at his waist. I checked Red Face’s waist. He had one, too. It must be part of their uniform. I took a steadying breath and followed Haio out of the front door, every sense primed to find Yuso and give him some sign of what had happened.

I did not have to search far; he was squatting at the end of the wooden platform, throwing dice into a ring made up of Ryko, the Trang Dein man, and two kitchen servants. As Haio called a lewd joke to Red Face, Yuso’s head snapped up, hand suspended mid-throw. I saw his mouth tighten in comprehension, and felt a leap of gratitude for his quick intelligence. Barely missing a beat, he finished the throw and eased back, watching us with a grim smile. Beside him, Ryko glanced up, seemingly unconcerned, but both hands tightened on his thighs. Dela was nowhere to be seen.

I shifted the lute to face them and spread four fingers flat across the strings: Armed. Then I closed my hand into a fist around the wood: Sethon. Would Yuso or Ryko see it and understand? We were already past their position, and I did not dare look back. I did not even dare look back at Vida.

The night air seemed to have focused Haio. His stride lengthened as he led us back toward the lesser banquet hall, our way lit by white paper lanterns strung between the buildings. Soldiers stationed at doorways and corners saluted him as we passed, their presence stoking my dread. I risked a glance at Vida; her head was bowed meekly, but her eyes noted positions, possibilities.

There were none.

From our left, the silhouettes of two men emerged from between the halls, and for a moment my heart hammered with hope — Yuso and Ryko! But the bodies were wrong; lax and soft. Two eunuchs. They hunched into low bows.

“You,” Haio called. “Is my brother still dining?”

“He is, your lordship,” the senior man answered, bowing even lower.

We climbed the marble steps to the gilded double doors of the banquet hall. The soldier guards on either side saluted and opened them as we approached. I touched my face, feeling the soft, chalky powder over the white paint. High Lord Sethon had met Lord Eon only once, during the triumphal procession where my master had succumbed to poison. I had prostrated myself before the High Lord, begging for assistance. It had not been that long ago. Could he have marked my features enough to recognize me under this Peony mask? My arms and legs fired with the urge to run from such danger, but I forced back the instinct.

“High Lord Haio approaches,” another eunuch called as we stepped over the raised threshold and entered the dining hall. The sweet, shivering notes of a flute suddenly stopped, leaving the murmur of male voices. Gradually, that ceased too as we walked into the presence of Emperor Sethon.

He was on a gilded dais at the far end of the chamber, his yellow robes thick with gold embroidery and gems that shimmered in the lamplight. Guests sat below him along two long tables that faced each other. A sharp prod from Red Face hurried me onto my knees, the lute voicing a soft twang as I placed it on the marble floor. I stole a quick glance at the men seated nearby — all senior military. We were in the middle of Sethon’s central command. I pressed myself into a flat kowtow, the cold stone against my forehead echoing the freezing fear in my body.

Haio’s footsteps clipped an uneven beat as he strode up to the imperial platform. Just behind me, Vida’s breathing quickened. I closed my eyes and prayed to Bross. Courage, give me courage.

“Greetings, brother, you may rise.” Sethon’s voice was the same impassive monotone I remembered. “I thought you dined with your men this evening.”

“I do, Your Majesty,” Haio’s voice had shifted from bluff bully to a younger brother’s diffidence. “I have brought you a gift. A Peony and one of your favorite Safflowers.”

My breath caught. Would Sethon deny having a favorite? He had never seen Vida before. It took all of my control to keep my head down.

“And what has occasioned such a gift?”

Thank the gods — he was more concerned with what lay behind Haio’s generosity.

“Nothing, brother. Nothing.” Haio cleared his throat. “It is just a gift. For the New Year.”

“They have no bearing on your current dissatisfaction?”