Eona - Alison Goodman [187]
Yuso angled his face away from me.
“Bastard!” I pushed all of my rage into the word.
“Your Majesty,” he said through his teeth. “Please. You promised me my son as soon as I brought the girl and the book to you.”
Sethon leaned closer to me, as if sharing a confidence. The smell of him—acrid and metallic—caught in my throat, an echo of the folio. “Unlike you, Lady Eona, Yuso’s son does not have much fortitude,” he said. “When I broke his fingers, he passed out. I’m sure a flogging brought on by his father’s insolence would kill him.”
A vein pulsed in Yuso’s forehead.
Sethon nodded toward the wall of the tent. “Wait over there, captain. I still have work for you.”
He watched as Yuso forced his fury into a bow and retreated.
“Love is such an exploitable weakness.” Sethon turned his cold scrutiny back to me. “Yuso tells me that both my nephew and Lord Ido will come running to your aid.” He dragged his thumb across my lips. “What do you have that brings two powerful men running to their annihilation? Is it just the dragon, or something else?”
“They will not come,” I croaked.
He tapped my cheek lightly. “We both know they will come before the day is out. You are the perfect lure.”
I clenched my teeth; he was right.
He leaned over to a small table set beside the chair. Around me, there was no lush carpet, just dirt floor. He picked up a long, thin knife. The shapes of blades, hooks, and a mallet flared at the corner of my eye. I had seen such implements before: in Ido’s cell. The memory fired through my body, urging me to run. To fight. But I could not move.
“My nephew will come for you,” Sethon said, “and in doing so, he will deliver the Imperial Pearl to me, safe under that strong, young pulse in his throat.” He lifted the blade and examined the honed edge. “I would have preferred for Yuso to kill him and bring me the pearl, but all the lore says it must be transferred from one living host to the next in the space of twelve breaths.” He shrugged. “One never knows if these stories are true or not.”
He yanked at the edges of my tunic, exposing the skin above my breasts. In my mind, I punched and kicked, but my body stayed motionless under his hands.
“Ido truly believes you are the key to the String of Pearls,” Sethon said. “He took a lot of damage before he gave up his secrets, but in the end, he was . . . very forthcoming about you and the black folio.” He paused, his forefinger tracing my collarbone. “A leash made of your own dragons’ Hua. The last thing he gave up before I lost him in the shadow world.”
“What?”
Sethon eyed me. “Ido didn’t tell you?” His body rocked with a silent laugh. “Still playing his games.” He patted my cheek. “The black folio is made from the essence of all twelve dragons. Created by the first Dragoneyes. You are caught by your own kind.”
“No!”
Yet the truth of his words crashed through me. From the first time I had touched the black folio, I’d felt its power reach for both of us—the Mirror Dragon and me. But why would the first Dragoneyes make such a thing?
I wondered what else Ido had not told me.
Then Sethon pressed the knife lightly into the base of my throat, and my whole world became that thin length of blade and the hand that held it.
“I understand from Yuso that you can heal yourself, Lady Eona. Over and over again.” The hand arched and leaned into the blade, the edge just sinking into my skin. Blood rose around it, the pain leaping through my nerves a moment later. “Let us explore the extent of this leash.”
I had been cut before—felt the quick shock of the battle slash—but this was another kind of hurt. Slow and deliberate, a careful carving of flesh that dragged me behind its trail of blood into a crescendo of agony. I screamed, my head straining back, my body locked under the hand and knife, unable to run or fight or even press myself away from the malice slicing into my chest.
With a smile, Sethon lifted the blade and ground his other hand across the raw edges