Eona - Alison Goodman [149]
“Are you ready, my lady?” Vida asked, pushing herself off the low stone wall. “My father will want to turn on the high tide. The more distance we can put between us and the cyclone, the better.”
Was I ready? We had at least four days ahead on the boat as we rounded the Dragon’s Belly—the large mass of land in the southeast—to reach the rendezvous in the east. Four days with a mother I had not seen for ten years, two powerful men who hated each other, and friends who did not trust me. I turned to watch the trail of lanterns heading up the east cliffs: the villagers were shifting their lives into the nearby caves. Weathering a deadly cyclone and a vengeful army in a network of dark, dank caverns seemed far less daunting than the boat journey ahead.
A splash brought my attention back to the junk. A small tender had been lowered over the side. Four figures climbed down a rope ladder into the vessel and pushed off, an oarsman pulling strongly toward shore. None of the silhouettes looked like a woman.
Kygo and Elder Rito stepped down on to the beach, the rest of our troop gathering behind them. Beyond them, two men shoved Lord Ido onto his knees in the sand. Kygo called Dela to him and gave her low-voiced instructions that sent her heading toward us. She trod heavily across the sand, part of the right side of her face bandaged; a sword had sliced her cheek open and taken off half her ear.
She bowed. “His Majesty commands the presence of his Naiso.”
As she raised her head, I saw the mute apology in her eyes. For a moment I could not understand her guilt, then I remembered the small bathhouse betrayal orchestrated between her and Vida. It seemed distant and pale in comparison to what had happened on the beach.
I stood and gently squeezed her shoulder, feeling the tension in her body ease a notch. “How are you, Dela? Vida tells me it is a nasty wound.”
She touched the tight bandage. “It is not going to help my good looks.” Although trying for lightness, her tone rang hollow. With a quick glance behind us, she pushed something into my hand: the small leather pouch that held my ancestors’ death plaques. “You should take these for now.” A shake of her head curbed my protest. “They are the only things your mother gave you. You should be carrying them when you meet. Show her you never forgot.” She leaned closer, her voice lowering. “Maybe she will know more about your ancestress.”
Reluctantly, I took the pouch and slid it into my tunic pocket. Wrapped in leather and hidden away, Kinra’s plaque posed no real threat. Still, it made me uneasy to carry it.
Dela patted my hand. “Come. His Majesty is waiting and he is not happy.”
“I can imagine,” I muttered, and led the way back across the sand.
As we approached, Kygo’s eyes stayed steadfastly on the approaching boat. Ido, however, kept his gaze on me. He had been bound again, this time with his hands behind his back and, judging by the awkward shifts of his shoulders, as painfully as possible—a deliberate show that Lord Ido and his power were still under the control of the Emperor. And perhaps Kygo was not above some private malice, too.
Forcing myself to ignore Ido, I bowed to Kygo, but he gave no flicker of acknowledgment. I took my position at his left shoulder. The tender bumped into the rise of the shore, and all four occupants vaulted out, grabbing the edges and pulling it on to the beach. The solid, stocky shape of Master Tozay strode across the sand, flanked by two other seamen. The fourth man stayed beside the beached boat.
Tozay’s pace increased,