Eona - Alison Goodman [10]
“My lady?”
Ryko rose from somewhere near my feet, swaying as the cart hit a rut. For a moment, I was still in the fisher house, my hand on his laboring heart, then the memory shifted and I was back in the cart with Ryko before me. Alive and smiling. Awe caught my breath: we had saved him, the Mirror Dragon and I. But was he fully healed? Even as I opened my mouth to ask, a dizzying barrage of images swamped me: the golden song, the ten bereft dragons, the battle.
Lord Ido.
“He was in my mind again!” My voice was a dry croak. I struggled up on my elbows. “Ido was in my mind!”
And Dillon, too, for a moment. I was sure of it, although the image of him was not clear. I could still feel his terror.
Ryko moved toward me. He was favoring his right side. “What do you mean, my lady?”
“Ido drove back the other dragons.” An echo of our mind union shuddered through me, doubling the pain in my head. So much power.
“Lord Ido was not in the village, my lady.”
“No, he was in my mind again.” Ryko winced as I clutched his arm. “He was in my mind. I had to let him. Do you see? I had to let him or we would have died or—”
“What do you mean, in your mind?” Ryko pulled away, the sudden distrust in his voice silencing me. “Surely Ido is dead.”
“No.” I closed my eyes, once again feeling the weight of iron shackles and the raw agony of flogged skin. “Sethon holds him prisoner. I saw through his eyes. I think he’s dying.” I felt a small surge of pity.
Ryko grunted. “A just end.”
“Only if he could die twenty times over,” I said quickly. Ido did not deserve my pity.
I sat up into a wave of dizziness and flung out a hand, finding an anchor against the wooden side-panel.
“Ryko, is she awake? Is she all right?” It was Dela’s voice, calling from outside the cart.
A large front hatch slid open to show the laboring rumps of two harnessed oxen. A familiar figure was walking alongside, guiding the beasts: Solly, his bulbous features made even more grotesque by scabbed cuts and grazes. He smiled and bowed, then Dela leaned in and blocked my view. She was no longer disguised as a fisherman. Instead, she wore the black cap and blue high-collared robe of a successful merchant.
“Are you all right, Eona?” She scanned my face. “We thought you would never come back to your senses. How do you feel?”
I licked my lips, suddenly aware of the dry need in my body. “Thirsty. And sick,” I said. “My head hurts. How long has it been?”
She glanced at Ryko, the moment heavy with warning. “Two days,” she said.
“Two days?” I searched their faces. “Truly?”
They both nodded, but neither volunteered more, their uneasy silence broken only by the creaking cart and Solly’s voice urging the oxen onward. Ryko held out a ceramic water flask, his face set into harsh lines.
I unplugged the vessel and sipped. The cool water soothed my throat, but my stomach churned at the tiny amount of liquid. I had not felt this ill since the imperial banquet, a lifetime ago.
I handed back the flask, fighting the urge to vomit. “Someone is going to have to tell me what happened.”
“Do you not remember?” Dela eyed me anxiously. “You were healing Ryko—and then everything exploded. Huge rains and winds ripped apart the whole house. The whole cliff.”
“And the village,” Ryko said tightly.
Dela glared at him.
“She has to know,” he said.
Foreboding settled in my chest. “Know what? Tell me, now!”
Ryko straightened, meeting my order. “Thirty-six villagers were killed. Nearly eighty were hurt.” He bowed his head. “To save me.”
My throat was dry again. “Thirty-six?”
So many people dead because I could not control my power. Because I had recklessly called my dragon, although I knew I did not have the skill.
“May the gods forgive me,” I whispered. Yet even if they did, how could I forgive myself?
Ryko made an awkward