Eona - Alison Goodman [162]
“I did not tell him to ask you,” he said abruptly.
I looked up from the map.
“To break the Covenant again. Tozay took that on himself. He brought it to me as a deal already struck.”
I straightened, as if some of the weight in me had been lifted. “Tozay said that you would not ask me.”
He nodded. “I know you do not wish to kill.” He gestured at the map. “Yet you can see that we cannot do without you.” His smile held no humor. “I find myself in one of the quandaries my father warned me about—principle versus pragmatism.”
“I have said yes, Kygo. This time pragmatism wins.”
“Pragmatism is like water against the rock of principle,” Kygo said softly, quoting the great poet Cho. “If not channeled, it will eventually wear its own path through the spirit.”
He walked around the table and drew me to him, his hand reaching up to stroke my face. Our kiss was slow, seeking, a gentle press of mute atonement on both sides. Yet in the midst of the tender union, the memory of Ido’s savagery cut through my mind. The sudden intrusion brought a wash of shame, and I pulled away. Kygo let me—both of us, it seemed, caught in our own separate guilt.
I did not see much of Dela and Ryko during the rest of the voyage. The islander, I think, was avoiding me, but then the two of them were avoiding everyone, using the short time on board to create their own brief haven. Dela sought me out once, as I took air on the main deck, to tell me that they had silenced Ido’s guard with the knowledge that he’d left his post to watch their rendezvous, allowing Ido to escape.
“This alliance you have with Lord Ido frightens me,” she said. “Do not forget what he has done.”
“I haven’t.” The brisk sea wind caught my hair, whipping it across my face.
“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 movements. 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.