Eona - Alison Goodman [38]
We looked at one another, the logic undeniable.
“The exchange of Hua,” I said. “My power flowed through you, Ryko. And it flowed through Ido, at the palace.”
He caught his breath. “So this is the price for life? To have my free will ripped from me? To be forced into action that is contrary to my nature?”
“I didn’t know!”
Dela broke in. “It was I who begged Lady Eona to heal you.”
“Then you have done me a disservice, lady,” Ryko said harshly. “Have I not already given enough for this cause? Now I don’t even have my own will.”
“But I could not let you die,” Dela said tightly. Again, she reached out to him, but he stepped back.
I caught Dela’s hand. This was not the time for her to declare her feelings. “Perhaps there is a way to break the link,” I said. “In the folio.”
“I will search,” she promised.
Ryko glared at me. “And if there is no way, am I your creature forever?”
“I will not use it again,” I said. “I swear.”
“All well and good. But you are a proven liar, and I cannot stop you.”
“Ryko!” Dela protested.
He shot her a savage look, and walked to the other side of the clearing.
“He does not mean it,” Dela said, her eyes following him. She squeezed my hand, then let it go. “I will start searching now.”
She pulled the journal from her tunic, and headed over to a shrinking patch of late sunlight.
Slowly, I opened my other hand; the rough hard-bread had left a deep ridge in my palm. I could not blame Ryko for his rage; I had been just as angry when Lord Ido wrested away my own will. And now, if Dela was correct, I had some kind of lasting link with Ido, born from healing his stunted heart-point.
I shuddered. I did not want power over Ido. I did not want anything to do with him. Yet his final cry still stretched between us like the anchoring thread of a spider web.
“My lady,” Vida said, interrupting my dark thoughts. She was holding a worn rug. “Something for you to sleep on.”
Murmuring my thanks, I took the roll of thin cloth and spread it out behind me. Each shift of my rump made my hips ache. Fatigue dragged at my every move. It was even too much effort to chew the tough hard-bread. I made do with another piece of fruit from the waist-string, then gingerly lowered myself onto the rug. For a moment, I was aware of the unforgiving ground and the smell of old leaves and earth, and then sleep claimed me.
I was woken by the insistent need to relieve myself. The half-moon was high, silvering the outline of the tree canopy. The roosting birds had given way to the screech of night hunters and the deafening shrill of insects. Through half-open eyes, I saw the shadowy shapes of huddled, sleeping bodies and the watchful figure of someone on guard. By my reckoning, it was close to midnight—I could have at least another four or five hours of precious sleep. Maybe if I stayed completely still, I would just slide back into oblivion.
It was not to be. I struggled to my knees, wincing with pain. Every muscle had locked into stiff protest. With a soft grunt, I hauled myself upright. The guard looked around as I hobbled to the tree line. It was Yuso, moonlight carving his face into boldlined relief like a woodcut. Beyond him, another figure sat staring up at the night sky. From the set of the straight shoulders and pale, shaved head, I knew it was the emperor. Perhaps his ghosts had returned.
Stiff muscles, skirts, and passing water do not mix well. I took so long behind my tree, I was sure Yuso would come looking for me. As it was, both he and the emperor were hovering nearby when I stepped back into the clearing.
“I thought you had got lost, Lady Eona,” Yuso said.
“No. I was only a length or two away.”
“Go back to your post, captain,” the emperor ordered softly.
Yuso bowed and made his way around the edge of the camp. Only when he was in position again, did the emperor say, “Sit with me.”
I blinked at the sudden command. Something was pressing urgency into his voice. Was he angry with me, after