Eona - Alison Goodman [40]
The night sounds around me dropped away into the sudden roar of my heartbeat. The Naiso was the emperor’s most important advisor—the only appointment in the court that could be refused with impunity. In the ancient language it was the word for “bringer of truth,” but it meant more than that—it meant brother, protector, and perhaps most dangerously, the king’s conscience. It was the responsibility of the Naiso to challenge the sovereign’s decisions, criticize his logic, and tell him the truth, however hard and unpalatable.
It was often a very short-lived position.
I stared out into the darkness, fighting through the tumult in my mind. The Naiso was always an older man. A wise man. Never a woman. A female Naiso was almost as unthinkable as a female Dragoneye. A small, mad laugh caught in my throat. I was already unthinkable—maybe I could be twice unthinkable. Yet I had no business advising a king. I had no experience in the deadly politics of an empire. I had no knowledge of warfare or battle.
“Your Majesty, I am only a girl. I am no one. I cannot advise you.”
“As you so rightly reminded me, you are the Ascendant Dragoneye.”
“Yuso would be a better choice,” I said, glancing back at the silent figure walking the perimeter. “He is a career soldier. Or Ryko.”
“No, both of them have trained me,” the emperor said. “They are good men, but there must be no memory of the student when challenging the king.”
“Lady Dela?” I ventured.
“She is a courtier and a Contraire. I am not asking you because you are the only one available in our small troop. No emperor is compelled to appoint a Naiso. I am asking you because I believe you will tell me the truth when others would lie and pander.” His voice hardened. “And betray.”
“But I lied to you about who I was,” I said. “I lied to everyone.”
“You came to my father’s ghost watch and told me the truth when you could have been halfway to the islands. Even when it has put you in mortal danger, you have never worked against me. I trust that.”
Trust: the word pierced me. I had given up the right to be trusted, and yet here was my emperor willing to place his life in my hands.
If I said yes, I would step into a quicksand of influence and responsibility.
If I said no, I would lose that trust and his good opinion. I would lose the way he leaned toward me as if what I said was worth an emperor’s attention.
Could I be what he wanted me to be? A king’s conscience.
I took a deep breath and within in it was a prayer to any god who listened: Help me be his truth. And help me know my own truth.
“I am honored to be your Naiso, Majesty,” I said, and bowed.
“As I am honored by your acceptance,” he said, a grin overtaking the formality. “You may call me Kygo; the emperor and the Naiso meet as equals.”
I tensed. No doubt he believed what he said, but I had seen his idea of equality weeks ago, in the Pavilion of Earthly Enlightenment. The pavilion was supposedly a place where minds of all rank could meet, but when his teacher had crossed his will, suddenly equality had been forced into a groveling bow. There seemed to be many levels of equality; I had to find which one he meant for me.
“There is another part to that old maxim know your enemy, Kygo,” I said, stumbling over his name. “‘Know yourself.’ What is your weakness? What will High Lord Sethon use against you?”
“Inexperience,” he said promptly.
“Perhaps.” I narrowed my eyes and tried to see this young man as his uncle would see him. Inexperienced, by his own admission. Untried in war, but courageous and well trained. Progressive and merciful, like his sire, and upholding the same ideals—the very ideals that Sethon