Eona - Alison Goodman [165]
“Rise,” Kygo ordered.
The six men climbed to their feet. I glanced over my shoulder, past the grips of Kinra’s swords, and saw the royal command shift back like a wave through the sea of people behind us.
“This is Lady Eona, Mirror Dragoneye and my Imperial Naiso,” Kygo said.
The men’s eyes flicked over me. Although not one of their expressions changed, I could feel their disappointment as if it had been shouted in my face: A girl.
“You know General Tozay,” Kygo continued. He turned his head, finding Ido. “And that is Lord Ido, Rat Dragoneye.”
The introduction sent sharp glances among the six men. A ripple of whispers rose from the people around us. One of the six—a man of about thirty with a permanent sun squint and a meaty strength about him—stepped forward, his bright red coat adorned with an embroidered eagle on each sleeve. All of the six men wore intense colors—emerald green, sky blue, red, purple, orange—their clothes overbright among the bleached colors of the rest of the camp.
“Welcome Your Majesty and Lady Eona.” He angled his face away from Ido. “I am Rulan, leader of the Haya Ro. Be welcomed on behalf of all the tribes.”
“Rulan,” Kygo said. “Lord Ido is the Rat Dragoneye. Acknowledge him.”
The big man shifted. “He is a traitor.”
“Acknowledge him!”
Rulan’s mouth tightened. “And we acknowledge Lord Ido,” he said through his teeth. Kygo had won the first round. Rulan gestured to the man in emerald green. “Here is Soran, leader of the Kotowi and tribe brother to the Haya Ro.” He proceeded to name the remaining four men behind him and their affiliations, but the elaborate introductions blurred into a string of unfamiliar words. I had seen the ill feeling toward Ido at Sokayo village, but this held an even sharper edge of malevolence.
As Rulan finished with a bow, Soran, the first man introduced, stepped forward. “Your Majesty, may I have leave to greet my daughter-son, Dela?” he asked. “She has been away from us for six years.”
This was Dela’s father? On closer inspection, there was a resemblance—the proud nose and deep-set eyes, and the humor in his angular face.
Kygo smiled and nodded. “Of course, Soran. I know Dela came to my father’s court as a ransom, but he was fond of her, and she was a valued courtier.”
Soran bowed and backed away. I saw the wonderful moment on Dela’s face when her father stepped into view—such love. And so much warmth between them as Soran folded Dela against his chest. My mother watched with a sad smile. Was she comparing our reunion with the joy of this one? She was a good woman and deserved more than the polite detachment I had shown on the boat. After all, we were blood.
I turned back to find Rulan ushering us toward the wooden door of the round tent. The structure was covered in pale cloth, and through a few gaps, I could make out the thick edges of a darker layer beneath. A woolen blanket perhaps, or felt. Both layers were bound onto the circular structure with neatly separated rounds of rope. I had heard that these buildings could be dismantled and moved within a full bell, yet were sturdy enough to withstand sandstorms.
As I followed Kygo into the tent, the sudden color and opulence made me pause. The walls were covered in bright cloth printed in red, white, and green diamonds, and the entire floor was made of layered woven rugs in a clash of reds and greens and yellows. Two long, elaborately carved poles in the center held up the crown of the tent, and between them stood an open-topped brazier, a high mound of glowing coals sending out heat and soft light. Long benches with padded seats made of printed and colored cloth were set up in ranks that curved with the walls and left a large round space in the center. One bench was raised higher than the rest and had no other seats set behind it: the position of power. Rulan led us