Eona: The Last Dragoneye

a usurped emperor.”

I lifted my chin. “I am his Naiso.”

Ido’s heavy brows met over the high bridge of his nose. I pressed my lips together, half of me enjoying his astonishment, the other half tensing for the inevitable jeer.

“You are his Naiso? His truth bringer?” His shoulders started to shake with silent laughter. “You do not have a truthful bone in your body.”

“Kygo trusts me,” I said, hoping my vehemence would persuade him. And me.

He lowered his voice. “Then tell me, have you told Kygo that royal blood and the black folio can bind a Dragoneye’s will and power?”

I hesitated, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of the answer.

He smiled, his old arrogance lifting one corner of his mouth. “I didn’t think so. You may be misguided, but you are not a fool.”

“I haven’t kept it from him,” I said through my teeth, although I also spoke more softly. A habit: too many years lived with too many secrets. “I just haven’t told him. He would not use it against me.”

Ido gave a snort of derision. “He is royal and he wants the throne. Of course he will use it.” He leaned forward. “Ask yourself why you haven’t told him. It is because deep down you know he is a threat to us.”

In my mind, I once again saw that moment of hard ambition on Kygo’s face as he stared at the black folio on Dillon’s wrist; the book held such tempting riches for us all — the secrets of Gan Hua, the String of Pearls, and even how to stop the ten grieving dragons — but the cost was so high. Insanity and, in the wrong hands, enslavement.

“Kygo is not the threat,” I said. “The threat is Sethon.”

Ido sat back, a small smile playing across his lips. “You lie even to yourself. Now that is the mark of a fool.”

I stood up. “You do not know Kygo,” I said. “And you do not know me.”

I turned and walked the length of the stable, my unease driving me as far from the man as possible. I stopped at the edge of the doorway and gulped at the cleaner air, ignoring the curious glance from Dela, seated on a bale of hay nearby.

As my mind quieted, a sick realization crept through me. Ido was right; I was a fool.

He had just manipulated me into admitting that we were Dragoneye allies against the threat of royal blood.

It was a full bell after dawn before we neared the rendezvous in the hills outside the city. The hot weight of the monsoon was back in the air, its presence like a hand pressing on my chest. Or maybe the tightness across my heart was from the prospect of seeing Kygo again. I circled my fingers around the leather thong tied to my other wrist. The hard lump of the blood ring gave no reassurance. We had been physically apart little more than a day and a night, but I felt as though a chasm had opened up between us. As Xan, the poet of a thousand sighs, once wrote: Too many doubts grow in the cracks of silence and separation.

Caido’s lieutenant was scouting ahead, his forest skills rendering him invisible and silent. In front of me, Ido walked between Yuso and Caido. Although the Dragoneye was stooped with fatigue, he was still a head taller than the two men guarding him, and the overhang of trees forced him to duck under branches.

We were winding our way through dense bushland, Yuso’s eyes sweeping over the ever-changing shift of light and shadow in the tangled undergrowth. Behind me, Dela and Vida helped Ryko, the islander still weak from my use of his Hua. We had only shared one brief exchange of words during our flight from the city. I had tried to apologize — again — but Ryko had caught my arm and, in a hoarse whisper, said, “He was strong. You needed me to quell him. I’m glad you made him suffer.” I nodded, relieved that my friend was talking to me again, but I knew I did not deserve such a generous reading of my actions.

Ahead, the Dragoneye suddenly stopped and stared up at the sky, squinting as if he could see something in the heavy cloud cover. He looked over his shoulder at me with a frown.

“Do you feel it?” he asked.

I glanced up through the branches at the dark, bilious sky. Was he testing me? I paused and considered. “I feel something. It’s thick. More than just monsoon.”

“Good,” Ido said. “From what direction?”

Yuso stepped in closer, his hand on his sword. “Keep moving,” he ordered the Dragoneye.

Ido looked sideways at him. “Keep moving, my lord,” he corrected, his voice cold.

“Just keep moving,” Yuso said. “Or you will feel the hilt of a sword, my lord.”

“Wait, captain. Lord Ido has something I wish to hear.” I turned back to the Dragoneye, ignoring Yuso’s tight-lipped scowl at my defection. “How do I find out what direction it is from?”

“You already know,” Ido said, but his attention was still on Yuso, a sly smile baiting the guard.

“No, I don’t.” Then I realized something was in my mind, colored red with anxiety. I focused on it, trying to catch its sense. Slowly it floated up from its deep mooring. “West. It’s coming from the west.”

“Yes. Well done.” Ido finally pulled his gaze from Yuso and glanced up at the dark collection of clouds again. “West. The wrong direction for this time of year.”

“Wrong direction? What does that mean?” Dela asked behind me.

“It means a cyclone.” His frown deepened.

“Here?” Vida’s horror mirrored my own. “When?”

“Lady Eona, you tell us,” Ido said.

Another test. “How?”

“It is in the Hua of the earth. Sense it.”

I had no idea what he meant. “With my power? But that will bring the dragons.”

“No, just feel it. Like you do when you trace the pathways of your own Hua.”

“Really?” I took a breath, still unsure. I knew the land had inner pathways like our meridians — they were the energy lines that crisscrossed the earth in bright bands. But how was I to sense them without shifting into the celestial plane? All I could feel was the heat on my skin, and the thud of my own heartbeat, and the draw of my breath into my chest, and the soft, soughing breeze across my skin, and the pulse of the insects in my ears and—

“Five days,” I whispered.

Ido smiled. “Five days,” he agreed.

I laughed. “How did I do that?”

He looked at me quizzically. “You are a Dragoneye. It is what we do.”

I grinned, unable to contain my delight. I had listened to the land like a Dragoneye!

Then a sobering thought struck me. “But we can’t stop it, can we?” That was the real work of a Dragoneye.

He looked up at the sky again. “No. You will need training for that. And we will need more power. But at least we can get out of its way.”

Silenced by the news, we started pushing through the undergrowth again. For all the danger of an impending cyclone, I could not help marveling at my new ability to listen to the land. Ido was already unlocking so much in me. I looked at the man’s broad back, trying to divine what was in his serpentine mind. He glanced back as if he had felt my thoughts, and for a heartbeat I was caught in the questioning amber of his eyes. Although there was no slide of silver through them, I still felt the draw of his power. I looked away. Yet from the corner of my sight I saw him smile, and my own lips rose into the ghost of an answer.

Less than a half bell later, Yuso tensed and raised his hand. We stopped, watching the undergrowth.

“Sir!” Caido’s lieutenant edged through a patch of bushes to our right. I would not even have guessed he was there. “They are a hundred lengths or so northeast.”

“Has everything gone according to plan?” Caido asked.

The man nodded. “His Majesty is waiting for us.”

My skin prickled. Kygo was ahead. The news affected Ido, too. He drew back his shoulders as if preparing to face an over-whelming enemy. In a way, he was: Kygo would have little welcome for the man who had helped