Eona - Alison Goodman [175]
And something else—a faint dankness that made me shudder.
“We ride to the lookout, my lady,” Yuso said. “A scout has reported something in Sethon’s camp.” He watched me closely. “He says it is a demon.”
Although I tried to hold firm, my eyes slid from his scrutiny. “A demon?”
The truth was finally bearing down with all the force of a mountain avalanche. I looked past Yuso at a figure crouched into a tense ball a few lengths away; a man with his arms wrapped over his head, his back heaving with each rasping breath. There was no mistaking that powerful line of shoulder or dark, ragged hair.
Ido.
I pushed past Yuso and sprinted toward the Dragoneye as one of his guards dragged at his arm.
“Leave him!” I shouted. The guard straightened.
“Ido?” I dropped to my knees beside him. “Ido, look at me.” He did not raise his head. “Give him some air,” I ordered, waving back the two guards.
Tentatively, I touched the dark hair. It was wet with sweat. He finally lifted his head.
“Eona.” His shackled hands clasped mine, his skin hot and damp with fever. “He has arrived. Do you feel him?”
“Yes. Why is it so bad?”
“He is far stronger than I thought he’d be,” he whispered. “He is using the death chant from the folio. I can feel death all around him.”
“Can Sethon stop him and take the folio?”
“I don’t think anyone can stop him. Not even us.”
“We have to,” I said. “He wants to kill you.”
Ido’s grasp tightened around my fingers. “He wants to kill both of us.”
His face changed, a warning etched over the lines of pain. At the edge of my vision, I saw the two guards drop into kowtows. I whirled on my knees to face the emperor.
“What is wrong with him?” Kygo said, jerking his chin at Ido. “He looks worse.”
I bowed, but before I could answer, Ido struggled to his feet. All of his grace was gone, stripped away by pain and the awkwardness of his shackled hands.
“There is nothing wrong with me,” he said.
He bent his neck—almost a bow—and walked toward the horses. It must have cost him greatly to move as if his body was not wracked with agony. I dug my fingers into my forehead, pressing back my own pain.
“Come, Naiso.” Kygo offered his hand and pulled me to my feet. “You will ride behind me.”
Very soon, he would know that the demon was Dillon. Was this the time to tell him everything? Truly be his Naiso? If I did, the love in his eyes would be gone forever, replaced by fury and betrayal. Yet it had to be done. I knew it had to be done.
“It will be all right,” he said, drawing my hand to his lips.
His soft kiss on my palm broke my tenuous resolve. It was not going to be all right, but I could not bear to tell him. Not yet.
We rode at a flat gallop, the bone-grinding discomfort barely registering. Every part of me was fixed on the sensation of Kygo’s body against mine: the work of his muscles beneath my hands, the braided rope of his queue pressed under my cheek, the smell of last night’s smoke still in his hair. The ordeal of Dillon and the folio hung over me like a stone weight, but for that short ride, I held on to Kygo and lived within his breath and heartbeat, and the foolish wish that we could stay like this forever.
At the lookout, Ryko caught me as I slipped down from the horse, and held me steady as my trembling leg muscles recovered. My head was full of thick pain.
“Thank you,” I managed.
He gave a quick nod. “My lady”—he pressed his lips together—“Dela says I went too far.”
Before I could respond, Kygo swung neatly out of the saddle and took my hand. Ryko bowed and backed away, the moment gone.
Behind us, Ido dismounted, but his legs buckled beneath him. He rolled away from the horse’s startled stamp, the reflex seeming to take the last of his energy.
“Get him up,” Tozay ordered the guards.
The two men hauled the limp Dragoneye to his feet again, bracing him by his elbows.
No one spoke as we