Eona - Alison Goodman [68]
I soaked and squeezed out another cloth. For the sake of balance, I should wash his moon arm. Instead, I was drawn to his face. Had I looked so serene when I was senseless? I could not remember anything of the shadow world, although I had dwelled there for two days. Perhaps Kygo was living another life where he was just a man, and not the hope of an empire. Was that why he did not want to return? I could understand the relief of dropping such a burden. Delicately, I wiped his broad forehead and then under his eyes, following the meridian line across the high plane of his cheekbones. His face had strong, clean angles: if I’d still had my drawing ink and paper, I could have sketched him with a few bold lines. Yet I doubted my small skill would have done justice to the harmony of his features.
I paused, considering the problem of his split lower lip. If I wiped it clear of blood, it could start the flow again. Carefully, I touched the damp cloth to his mouth, trying not to pull at its tender fullness. The corners held a natural uplift, or maybe he was smiling at someone in the shadow world.
Two men had kissed me in my life—the salt farm whipmaster, before Dolana had stepped in and made a bargain of herself to spare me. And Ido. I pressed my lips together, remembering the sweet vanilla and orange. He had tasted like the essence of his dragon. Neither kiss had been welcome—but then, neither man had sought a welcome. They had both just taken what they wanted.
I bent closer to Kygo and felt the feather flow of his breath against my mouth. If I brushed his lips with mine, would he feel it in the shadow world? The earthy scent of ginseng rose from the warmth of his skin, settling deep inside me. The physician had said Kygo would not remember his pain when he returned. Was it the same with pleasure? The rhythm of his breathing became mine. I felt the colors around us blur, a soft, hypnotic slide toward the energy plane. For a moment I hung above him, our breaths intermingled. Could I take what I wanted?
I pulled back, ashamed of the impulse. Such an act would be dishonorable. I would be no better than the whipmaster or Ido. I shook my head, trying to clear the strange residue of power. I had not meant to shift into the energy world. What little control I had seemed to be slipping away.
I squeezed out a new cloth, my disquiet wringing it into tight folds. I needed help, soon, but this was not the time to dwell on my failures. With fierce concentration, I washed Kygo’s bruised jaw, the soft material catching on the darkening of stubble. Another cloth took me down the strong column of his throat. I stopped just above the curve of the Imperial Pearl. Mud had encrusted its gold setting, and collected in the half-healed stitching that secured it in the hollow between his collarbones. The pearl itself was pristine, its presence still crouched at the base of my skull.
Slowly, I prepared another cloth, my eyes fixed on the glowing gem. I did not dare clean the mud from around it. My encounter with the black folio had taught me that Kinra’s heritage was strong in my blood, and getting stronger. And Kinra wanted the pearl, at whatever price. I dug my hand into my gown pocket and pulled out the death plaque pouch, then placed it carefully beside the washbowl. Away from me, just in case.
I wiped the fresh cloth down Kygo’s chest, trying to keep my focus on the vital central meridian along his breastbone. Yet the pearl’s luminescence stayed within the periphery of my vision. Slowly, its glow drew my eyes up his body until I stared into its shimmering depths, and saw a silvery shift within it.
Heat rushed through me, bringing the memory of warm power beneath my fingertips and Kygo’s racing pulse. I clenched my hand around the cloth, fighting the desire to reach across and bring that strange moonlit moment again. Certainty whispered within me: the pearl would call Kygo back. The pearl would kindle his sun energy, quicken his blood, and strengthen his Hua. All I had to