“He gave me a message for you.” She tightened her lips as if the words soured her mouth.
“What is it?”
“That you are in his blood.”
I looked down at the deck to hide the answering surge within my own blood.
“Those are the words of a lover, Eona.”
“Lord Ido only loves power. I know that,” I said, but she did not look convinced.
With a bow she turned toward the hatch.
“Dela.” She looked back. “Does Ryko hate me?”
Her face softened. “Ryko doesn’t hate you. He wants to save you, Eona. Like he wants to save everyone.”
As I watched her walk away, my throat tensed with an ache of sadness. Ryko wanted to save everyone — except himself.
When we finally anchored in the deep cove harbor of our eastern rendezvous, a sense of relief quickened everyone’s move-ments. I think we all wanted to get off the boat and face more than just the dark shadows in our own minds.
It is not often that the real world conjures worse than what we can imagine.
I stood against the railing and studied the vista before us, a mix of barren sand dunes, ocher rocks, and patches of low green growth bright in the late sun. This was the east — my dragon’s stronghold of power — abandoned for five hundred years, cast into a hot wasteland of desert that only the border tribes inhabited. Now the Mirror Dragon had returned and, with her, the green blessing of renewal. And maybe, if we had the good will of the gods, victory.
“Lady Eona.”
Ryko’s voice pulled me out of my reverie. He held out a back sheath, the moonstone and jade hilts of Kinra’s swords protruding from the two scabbards strapped into the leather brace.
“His Majesty has ordered that everyone be armed, at all times,” he said. “I’ve greased the throats.”
I hesitated, then took the sheath. I had not touched Kinra’s swords since the village inn. It seemed so long ago. Ryko crossed his arms, waiting for me to test the oiled draw. Clenching my teeth, I grabbed one leather-bound grip and felt Kinra’s rage roil through my blood. Still there, still strong.
“It’s good,” I managed, plunging the sword home again. The kiss of hilt against metal mouth released me from the fury.
“The other?”
“I trust you,” I said.
“Test it, my lady.”
I gripped and pulled, the smooth slide whispering death in its hissing release. I rammed the blade back, snatching my hand away. “Lovely. Thank you.”
He bowed.
“Ryko.”
He looked up, eyes wary.
“Thank you for looking after my swords.” It was not what I wanted to say, but the real words were caught in the strain between us.
“It is my duty,” he said. “I will always do my duty.” He backed away.
Eventually, a loud “Hoy!” went up from the high mast lookout — the signal from the shore had been spotted, although I could see no people on the beach or in the dunes.
I took my place in the first tender, along with Kygo, Tozay, and two of Caido’s bowmen. Another, larger boat followed, with Dela, Ryko, and more armed men, two of whom guarded Ido. We rowed the distance between junk and land in silence, the air eerily still and hot after the quick sea winds, and no sign of our allies on the broad expanse of sand.
“Where are they?” I whispered.
“Wait,” Tozay said.
Both tenders beached at the same time, the bowmen covering us as we climbed out and splashed to shore through the warm water. Squinting in the glare, I scanned the undulating horizon of sand, my skin crawling with the certainty we were being watched. Tozay walked up beyond the tide line and stood with his hands on his hips, eyes fixed on the bank of dunes that curved and peaked before us. At the edge of my sight, something moved in the far dune. I swung around, reaching back for Kinra’s swords, the bowmen catching my alarm and swinging with me. The sand convulsed and lifted, falling away to reveal human figures.
“Hold your fire,” Tozay barked.
I lowered my hands. Twenty or so men dressed in bleached garments the same color as the dunes rose to their feet and watched us, their weapons drawn. One of them raised a fist, then smoothed it across the air in an arc.
Tozay returned the signal. “It is clear,” he said to Kygo.
We had made contact with the Eastern Resistance army.
The soft-spoken leader pulled up his horse and turned in his saddle, waiting for Kygo to walk our sturdy dune beast up beside him. I was riding behind the emperor once again, but this time his hand covered mine as I held his waist, the press of our bodies moving together in mesmerizing harmony. We had been traveling through the night — the dune men and our troop — steadily heading to higher, more strategic ground. The moon-silvered sands had gradually given way to featureless plains and strange dark outcroppings of rock. Now the gray predawn light was giving definition back to the scrubby landscape, and to the faces around me.
Kygo reined in beside the dune leader. Tozay pulled his horse in behind us.
“As you requested, Your Majesty,” the leader said with a bow. “We are now about a quarter bell from our camp.” His words seemed to conjure the flavor of smoke on the cool dawn air, and I could see a faint glow that hinted at cooking fires.
Kygo nodded. “Which of your men has the most docile horse?”
The leader flicked his hand at a rider in the group of mounted men behind us. I turned to look back, smiling at Dela on a gray near the front, my mother clinging nervously to her waist. But my real attention was on Ido, in the periphery of my vision. He was astride one of the larger horses and, although his wrists were tied to the pommel, he still sat the animal with easy grace. He watched me from under half-closed lids, his smile as intimate as if his hands were around my hips instead of bound to a saddle. The memory of his hold swept heat across my skin. I quickly turned back to face the front.
The summoned rider dismounted and bowed to Kygo, his face still streaked with sand dust from the camouflage.
“Your mount will take a novice?” Kygo asked.
“Yes, Your Majesty. She is steady as a rock. Even my three-year-old rides her without saddle.”
Kygo twisted to look at me. “Do you think you can manage her, Lady Eona? I wish you to ride into camp beside me.”
Although it was a serious command, and there was obviously more to it than just protocol, I narrowed my eyes at the hint of humor that lifted the corners of his mouth.
“Of course,” I said, although in truth I was not sure if I could stay on one of the beasts by myself. Still, I would try. At least I knew how to dismount. I swung my leg and slid off our horse, landing with reasonable grace on the loose gravel.
The dune man smiled encouragingly, inviting me to pat his mare. “Her name is Ren,” he said. “It means ‘forbearance’ in my tribe’s language.”
I slid my hand along the silky nap of her neck. Forbearance: the poor creature would need a lot of it once I was on her back.
As we rode on, Ren was as good as the dune man had claimed — steady and eternally forgiving of my heavy hands and lack of skill. Kygo kept close beside me, our horses’ shoulders almost touching. Ren, may the gods bless her sweet nature, seemed oblivious to Kygo’s horse and its occasional nibble at her bridle.
“You are doing well,” Kygo said.
“She is making me look good.” I shot him a sharp look. “But then, that is what she is supposed to do, isn’t
