Eona: The Last Dragoneye

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

OUR GOAL WAS the coast. Master Tozay had nominated Sokayo, a small village with resistance sympathies and a good harbor for our rendezvous. It was at least three nights of hard traveling away, even without the added complication of Sethon’s patrols sweeping the land.

Twice during the first night we crouched among the dense foliage, praying to the gods as troops passed by only a few lengths away. And on a dawn scouting mission, Yuso came face to face with a young foraging soldier. Yuso’s description of the encounter was predictably terse; he held up a precious map of the area and two dead rabbits, adding that no one would find the man’s body. The gods, it seemed, were not only hearing our prayers, they were answering them.

Between the tense hours of night travel and snatched hours of sleep during the day, Ido began to teach me the Staminata: the slow-moving combination of meditation and movement that helped to counteract the energy drain of communing with a dragon. I’d had only one Staminata lesson before the coup, but even that had helped me understand the transfer of energy throughout my body. Ido said the training was as much for him as for me. If he was to have any chance of holding back the ten bereft beasts while I practiced the dragon arts, he needed to restore the balance of energy in his own body.

And it was becoming painfully apparent by our second session that balance was the essence of the Staminata.

“Make your moon palm flatter,” Ido ordered, beside me.

We were more or less alone — if two silent, invisible sentries ten or so lengths away could be called alone — and the morning heat had not yet descended. Even so, as I drew back my left hand I felt a trickle of sweat slide down my neck. I’d been holding the starting position for more than a full bell — a deceptively easy stance of palms faced out, knees slightly bent, and bare feet pressed into the earth — and my arms and legs were shaking with the strain. Ido held the same position. From the corner of my eye, I could see that he was sweating just as much, his bare torso slick with effort, although I could discern no trembling in his arm muscles. Just two days of travel rations and patchy rest had remedied the gaunt exhaustion in his body.

“Keep your eyes ahead and breathe. Let your mind trace the inner pathways,” Ido said. “And keep that palm flat.”

I refocused on the wild jasmine bush a few lengths in front of us and tried to turn my mind inward. All I could think of was the heavy perfume of the jasmine in my throat. And the itchy track of sweat down my back. And the fire that crept up my calf muscles.

And the hard press of Kygo’s lips against my hand.

I swayed, the sudden lurch of the world jolting me into an awkward half hop backward. Ido straightened, his break of the stance just as graceful as the hold.

“What happened?” he asked, running his hands through his sweat-soaked hair.

“I lost concentration.”

“Obviously. I meant, what did your mind throw in your way?”

I pushed away the image of Kygo. “Sweat and aching muscles.”

“At least your mind is concentrating on the moment.” He picked up his tunic. I looked away as he wiped his chest. “We’ll stop soon. We both need rest.”

I let out a relieved breath. We had started training as soon as Yuso had called a halt. Everyone else was either asleep or taking a short turn on guard duty.

Ido dropped his tunic back to the ground. “Give me your hands.” He held out his own, each wrist still ringed with the cut of rope.

Except for the two times I’d healed him, I had never touched Ido. He had, however, touched me. With force.

He saw my hesitation. “If I do something you don’t like, you can always slam me into the ground again.”

True. I wiped my hands down the bodice of my gown and held them out. He turned them over and very gently pressed each of his thumbs into the center of my palms.

“Do you feel that soft part in the dip, under the bone?”

I nodded.

“That is a gateway of energy.” He looked down, past the calf-high gathered knot of my hem. “There is one in each foot, too, in the soft center below the ball. Four gateways where the body can draw in Hua from the earth and everything around it. The fifth is in the crown of the head.”

“In the seat of the spirit?” I asked, watching him. “Where you have the dark gap.”

“No, above it,” he said shortly.

He released my moon hand and pressed his palm against the flat of his abdomen. Under his fingers, the vertical interlock of muscle on each side of the central meridian was carved in hard relief. “Behind the navel is where the five gateways are united. It is the center of balance and the focal point of Hua. It is called the Axis.”

He was still holding my other hand.

“The Axis?”

“Where all balance begins: physical, mental, and spiritual.”

He drew my hand down and pressed it against my own belly, over the Axis point. The thin cloth of the gown stuck to my damp skin.

“Behind there,” he said. “That is the place where Hua must be drawn. Do you feel it?”

“Yes.” But all I could feel was the warm weight of his hand covering mine.

“Breathe,” he said. “Center your inner awareness on that point. “

Looking over his shoulder, I focused on the jasmine bush, but my body felt like a single thundering pulse resonating through our hands. I drew in air and the scent of hours of exertion and control on his body, the earthy maleness mixing with the jasmine perfume. I looked up, my eyes flickering over the cut lip and flared nose. The pale gold of his eyes was almost engulfed by black pupil.

“Good,” he said tightly. “As you exhale, hold the Hua in the Axis.”

I breathed out, feeling our hands move together. He leaned closer, his head bent to mine.

“Are you sure you want to do that, Eona?”

“What?”

He licked his lips. “You are compelling me.”

“No, I’m not,” I said.

“Yes, you are.”

He drew my hand against his chest. Through the curve of damp muscle, I could feel his heartbeat quickening under my palm. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. His rhythm was in my own blood. I was compelling him, in a different way. A call, not a coercion.

“I’m sorry.” I tried to pull my hand free, but he locked it against his chest.

“I’m not complaining.”

I shook my head. It was wrong. A dark attraction. It felt even more wrong than hurting him. Yet it pushed me toward him, just as much as it pulled him to me. I snatched my hand away and stepped back, the subtle link breaking.

Ido released a long, ragged breath.

“That was some kind of Gan Hua, wasn’t it?” I said.

He touched his chest. “It would seem so.”

“I don’t know how to control it.” I grabbed his arm. “You have to teach me.”

He looked down at my desperate hold. “Don’t be afraid of your power, Eona. It is a gift.”

“It doesn’t feel like a gift. It feels out of control.”

“Of course it is out of control,” he said. “Gan Hua is chaos.”

“But it is dangerous,” I said. “In my candidate training—”