Alison Goodman - Eona - The Last Dragoneye

Kygo’s jaw clenched, the outline of each muscle ridged along the strong bone. “I hope so.”

“It was not a compliment.” Sethon inhaled deeply, as if savoring his next words. “Bow to your emperor.”

Kygo’s voice was steel. “No.”

“Bow!” Sethon said.

“I will not bow before a traitor to this land,” Kygo said loudly.

His words sent a wave of anticipation through the watching soldiers, as if the gates had opened on two fighting dogs.

Sethon jerked his chin at a soldier standing guard. “Bring me one of his men.”

The guard dragged a kneeling prisoner in front of us. It was Caido, his body bent with exhaustion. He lifted his eyes to Kygo, his bloodless lips shifting in a prayer.

Sethon hefted Kinra’s sword. “Bow, or I will kill your man.”

Kygo stiffened, but before he could say anything, Caido suddenly lunged at Sethon, his thin face twisted with desperate rage. “He does not bow to you!”

The sword swung, the heavy crunch of bone coming a moment before the spray of blood through the air. Caido’s body slumped to the ground. I closed my eyes, the image of the man’s head half hacked from his shoulders stark against my lids.

“Yuso,” Sethon snapped. “Which of these prisoners are important to my nephew?”

My eyes flew open as the captain stepped out from the small entourage behind us. I held my breath as he slowly walked the line of prisoners, keeping a wary distance from the palpable hate that rose from the kneeling men. A gob of spittle arced out from their ranks and landed near his feet.

He stopped in front of Dela.

“This is the Contraire, Your Majesty,” he said.

Dela wore men’s armor and had pulled her hair back into a man’s high queue, yet she was all female warrior, fierce and sharp. The wound across her face had opened again, and her cheek was smeared with blood like war paint.

“I hope your death is long and painful,” she said.

Ignoring her, Yuso pointed at Ryko. “And that is the islander. He has been with the prince since the start.”

“Why did you do it?” Ryko said, his voice as hard and honed as a blade — yet in it, I heard the terrible pain of his captain’s betrayal.

“He has my son, Ryko,” Yuso said through his teeth.

For a moment the two men stared at one another. Then Yuso moved on, stopping once more. “Tozay, his general.”

Master Tozay lifted his head, his lined face gaunt and gray, the strong width of his shoulders slumped. He had always been the bulwark behind Kygo. Now, all I saw was a defeated man.

“Bring them up onto the platform,” Sethon ordered. “I want every man to see me claim the pearl and kill the resistance, once and for all.”

SETHON PACED IN front of me across the small central dais. He had placed me at the base of his throne again, so that everybody could see the Dragoneye at his feet. He had removed his armor and undertunic and wore only trousers and boots, his scarred, heavily muscled torso streaked with sweat from the heat and the relentless afternoon sun. From where I knelt, I could smell the stink of his anticipation.

“Strip him,” he said to the waiting guards.

Kygo lifted his head at the command. I knew he did not dare make any other move. He had already struggled once against his guards — breaking one man’s jaw — and his rage had earned Dela ten strokes of a cane across her back. I glanced at the Contraire on her knees behind him, shivering with pain, her pale shoulders scored with red welts. Sethon had promised that if Kygo struggled again, I would be next.

Deftly, the two guards cut the leather bindings that held Kygo’s armored vest in place and pulled it from his body. Then the knife sliced through his close-fitting tunic. He fixed his eyes grimly on the horizon as the wet, clinging cloth was peeled off his skin, baring his torso. I heard Sethon’s sharp intake of breath at the clear sight of his prize. Without the high collar around it, the pearl seemed even larger, its gold claw setting dug deep into Kygo’s flesh. When the pearl was removed, it would take half of his throat, too.

Sethon knew the value of creating a spectacle. I had seen it at the palace when he had killed Kygo’s mother and baby brother before a baying pack of soldiers. Now I saw it as he prepared to take the pearl. He had ordered the canopy removed, and sent the flagmen and his retinue below so they would not obstruct the view of the soldiers who surrounded the command post in a dizzying mosaic of color. Apart from his prisoners and their guards, the only other men on the platform were High Lord Tuy, the physician, and Yuso. I wondered why Sethon kept the captain so close; perhaps to taunt us with the source of our betrayal. Sethon did not waste any opportunity to cause pain.

With their task complete, the two guards bowed and backed away, one holding Kygo’s armor, the other the shredded tunic. Dela did not look up as they passed. I gritted my teeth, remembering the hooting enjoyment of the mob as she had been beaten. Kneeling beside her, Ryko was all tense muscle and furious eyes. But what could he do? Each of them had a guard, and we were surrounded by thousands of men. Beyond Ryko, Tozay’s attention was fixed on the sprawled body of Ido at the base of the dais. The Dragoneye was flanked by two watchful hunters and still in the shadow world. He was so close I could see the rise and fall of his shallow breaths and the slow beat under his jaw. Like the others, he had been stripped of his leather armor, and a bloodied tear in his tunic sleeve showed the edge of a clotted wound. Tozay glanced up at me, shrewd eyes questioning. He was looking for hope. But he would not find it in Ido. Even if the Dragoneye did wake, Sethon would make me compel him.

Resolve hardened within me. I had to break Sethon’s compulsion, or Kygo and the others would be dead within a quarter bell. Kygo had once told me that the twelve stitches that had sewn the pearl into his flesh had been the worst pain he had ever endured. Surely Sethon would be overwhelmed by such pain, too. Even if it was just for a moment. That was my one chance to break his hold on me. It was a huge gamble, and it also meant waiting until Sethon had ripped the pearl from Kygo’s throat. Yet I could see no other way. Twelve breaths and twelve stitches to break the compulsion and then heal Kygo. Less than a minute. Was it even possible? But I had to try.

We were all on death ground.

“Hold him down,” Sethon ordered.

Although Kygo did not struggle, he did not comply, either. It took all three soldiers to force him to his knees. Two knelt beside him and locked his outstretched arms against their chests. The third knelt behind him, on his calves. I saw the agony widen his eyes as the man’s full weight settled on his shinbones.

Sethon stood on the edge of the dais. He held one of Kinra’s swords; the other was still in the sheath hung on the other side of the throne from where I knelt. So tantalizingly close. But until I freed my hands from the pearl rope, it might as well have been a thousand lengths away.

Sethon raised the sword he held to the soldiers below us. The sun, low in the sky behind him, cast the shadow of his exultation across his prisoners. Thousands of voices rose in jubilation, the screams and whistles so loud they startled the carrion birds into flapping, cawing protest.

Sethon smiled as the harsh duet of man and bird quieted. “The Imperial Pearl is mine!” he yelled, the deep resonance of his voice cutting through the last of the calls. He pointed the curved blade at Kygo. “The resistance is defeated once and for all.”

The men cheered again. With a measured pace, Sethon stepped down from the dais and crossed the platform to Tozay.