Eona - Alison Goodman [105]
The news sent Yuso squatting before me, his face intent. “Can you still go ahead?”
I nodded, but closed my eyes as the world swirled again. I felt Yuso’s calloused hand brush my cheek, his thumb finding the race of my pulse. His touch felt so like Sethon’s that I flinched.
He pulled back with a frown. “We won’t wait for the shift change. We go in now.”
“That will only give us a half bell before the new guards,” Ryko whispered.
“It can’t be helped. Lady Eona does not have the strength to wait.” Yuso clasped my good arm and pulled me upright. “Ryko, carry her.”
Hands helped me onto Ryko’s broad back. I rested my chin against the solid beam of his shoulders, my useless arm dangling over his chest. The whole limb was numb now. A small blessing, except I could feel the numbness spreading through my body. Everything was distant; sounds muffled, objects blurred, even the heat of Ryko’s body against mine barely penetrated the cold armor of my exhaustion.
It seemed to take forever to edge from column to column. The guards were sharing another illicit drink, and Ryko moved only when their attention was on the pass of the bottle. I counted my breaths between each wait, trying to turn my mind from the shivering weakness that kept loosening my grip around Ryko’s neck. We finally edged around the corner of the pavilion, beyond the guards’ sightline. Ryko scanned the training compound before us—the dark hall and the raked expanse of the training sands were deserted—then ran across to the narrow set of rear steps.
One by one the others ran from the shadowed portico and joined us. Ryko tightened his hold around my waist and turned his head, our noses almost touching.
“All right?” he whispered.
“All right,” I lied.
He nodded, but he was not fooled.
Yuso signed us forward. We skirted the training sands and headed toward the long rear wall of the imperial guard barracks. Before the coup, Ryko and Yuso had been quartered there along with the other imperial guards, but now it housed over two hundred soldiers. Or even more, according to Mama Momo. The dark wall bordered the whole length of the training compound and reached beyond the Pavilion of Autumnal Justice. I had not realized how close the barracks were to the cells. Dangerously within yelling distance.
At the edge of the training compound, Yuso signed a halt.
“From here,” he whispered.
Ryko eased me down onto my feet. I swayed and felt hands grab the silk at my back—Dela, an anchor in the swirling, pitching world.
“She can’t walk by herself,” Dela hissed over my shoulder.
“Between you two, then,” Yuso ordered.
Dela circled her arm across my shoulders, Ryko around my waist. Between them I was held upright, my injured arm hidden from view.
Yuso draped his arm over Vida’s shoulders, then glanced back at us. “Ready?”
And so we stepped through the elegant gateway that separated the training compound from the courtyard of justice: three drunken soldiers and their giggling companions looking for fresh entertainment.
The iron grips of Ryko and Dela kept me moving forward. I smiled up at their laughing banter, hoping the strain did not show on my face. We passed the Pavilion of Autumnal Justice, the pools of lamplight hollowing Dela’s eyes and catching the gleam of sweat at Ryko’s temples.
I chanced a look at the guards. Our stumbling, giggling progress across the courtyard had drawn them close together in front of the doorway. They watched our approach, all evidence of boredom and bottle gone.
Ryko nuzzled my hair. “Almost there,” he breathed. “Almost there.”
Beside the door, a bronze gong hung from a sturdy wooden frame, ready to alert the men in the barracks if we made one misstep. For a moment, I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the hazards ahead. Even if we did get inside the cell to Ido and I managed to heal him, we also had to get past those two hundred men.
I opened my eyes as Yuso bowed to the guards. “Evening.” He swayed on the return, his drunken grin perfectly judged. “The lovely Dara and Sela here”—he pointed a wavering finger