Eona - Alison Goodman [34]
Suddenly, I was rising through the air. I twisted around, awkwardly flinging my healed leg over the animal’s flank and grabbing for the back of the saddle. My landing was heavy, the reflexive dig of my knees sending the animal sidewise across the cobbles in a clacking crab-walk. As the emperor pulled the horse around, I desperately tried to keep my seat as the huge, bony joints and muscles shifted under me.
“You have permission to touch me, Lady Eona,” the emperor said curtly as he brought the horse to a fidgeting standstill. “Otherwise you’ll end up on the ground.”
Tentatively I let go of the saddle and held the emperor’s waist. Through the cloth of his tunic, I could feel the warmth of his body and the tension in his muscles as he controlled the horse.
“I said, ‘Hold on.’” He pulled my arms more tightly around his waist and pressed my hands against the flat of his stomach.
I inched forward, coming up hard against the back of the saddle.
“You may mount,” he ordered the rest of our troop.
I did not dare look over my shoulder in case the movement made me slide off the horse. From behind us came the clatter of hooves and a sharp curse from Dela as she missed her first attempt into the saddle. I focused on the tiny red jewels woven into the emperor’s long braid, and slowly adjusted the pressure of my knees against the horse. Already the strain was cutting into my thighs, and my neck was aching. The only logical place for my head was against the flat of the emperor’s shoulder blade, but the position was too intimate. I could not take such a liberty.
“Move out,” he called.
We lurched into a walk that, in a few steps, quickened into a trot. Instinctively, my arms tightened even further around his waist as I tried to find a rhythm that did not slam my rump bones against the horse or grind me into the raised back of the saddle.
“Do not fight it,” the emperor said, glancing back with a frown. “Relax and lean into me or you’ll pull us both onto the ground.”
It was then I realized where we were heading. “Are we going out the front gate?”
“Yuso wants us to ride through the village before we head into the forest.”
I felt him tighten his hold on the reins as we rounded the corner into the courtyard. The stench brought the horse’s head up, a loud snort registering its protest. Before us, bodies lay on cobblestones that were wet with blood and excrement. Black carrion birds were already picking and pulling, our arrival sending them skyward in a heavy beat of wings. The emperor pulled the horse to the edge of the compound, then urged it past the corpses. I wanted to close my eyes, turn my head, but something caught my attention.
Movement.
A soldier dragging himself to his knees. And another rocking and groaning, propped up against the lodging-house wall.
“They’re not dead,” I said. “You didn’t kill them.”
“They’d be better off if we did.” The emperor’s voice was harsh. “Most of them will die, even with the local physician’s care. And those that don’t will betray us.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
He looked back at me. “Will you be glad when my uncle uncovers your disguise? When he learns of our whereabouts?” He steered the horse through the inn’s gateway. “There is nothing to be glad about here.”
But he was wrong. As he kicked Ju-Long into a bone-jarring canter, I placed my head against his shoulder and leaned into the solid anchor of his back.
CHAPTER SIX
YUSO CALLED A HALT at dusk. We gathered in a small, natural clearing in the forest, the deafening chitter of birds heralding the end of daylight. Through the ferns and undergrowth, I caught sight of a bloated stream, fed by the recent monsoon rains. The downpours had been heavier than usual, untamed by the Dragoneyes and their beasts. With only two of us left in the circle—one dying and the other useless—it would not be long before some grave disaster tore at the land and the cries for help would go unanswered.
I slid off Ju-Long’s sweaty back, the sudden contact with the ground sending spikes of pain through my legs. For more than twelve full bells we had