As we moved downstream, heavy monsoon clouds tracked our progress. The thick gray expanse above us was like a smothering blanket of heat, but occasionally there was a current of cooler air that chilled sweat and promised rain and relief. The impending downpour added urgency to our search for the resistance group who, according to Vida, was entrenched in the area. They would give us a safe place to wait out the rains and mudslides, she said; more importantly, they would have news of Sethon’s army.
Ryko was quick to volunteer for scout duties and spent most of the morning ahead of us, looping around at intervals to report to Yuso. Only once did Dela try to talk to him; his cold courtesy plunged her into grim silence.
As before, I rode behind Kygo, and on the long, slogging walks he taught me the wisdom of Xsu-Ree. His father had insisted he memorize the Twelve Songs of Warfare, and as we pushed our way through the undergrowth, he recited them to me in the low tone of secrets, his voice audible only if we walked side by side, our heads close together. Each song was a series of wisdoms about an element of warfare. I did not wholly understand any of them, but a few caught my imagination: the Song of Espionage with its five types of spies, and the Song of Flames that told of five ways to attack by fire. Within the rhythms of Kygo’s deep voice, I heard the treacherous tread of double agents and the screams of men burning alive. With such skill, he could have been a Grand Poet.
“Do you recall the five fundamentals in the first song?” he asked at the end of his recitation.
It was near noon and we were walking parallel to the river, the water hidden by a thick stand of pine trees. For the time being, the steep mountainside had eased into a gentler slope, the scrubby woodland overrun by long-tailed pheasants. Bell crickets sang in the heat in a pulsing drone, and sprang out of the damp grass as we passed. A sign of good fortune, some would say. Kygo opened the collar of his tunic, a concession to the stifling humidity. I caught myself staring at the strong column of his throat, the smooth skin at the base marred by the rough, scabbed stitches that circled the gold setting of the pearl. I did not know if it was Kinra or the memory of the gem’s caress that drew my eyes. Those boundaries had become blurred.
A few lengths ahead of us, Tiron was leading Ju-Long, the battle-trained horse unmoved by the birds that bolted out of the undergrowth in front of him. A good way behind, Solly, Yuso, and Vida were leading the other horses in a straggling line. Dela walked by herself, her attention shifting between the path we were forging through the bushes and grass, and the red folio open in her hands.
I searched my memory for the five fundamentals, determined not to disappoint my teacher. “They are Hua-do, Sun/ Moon, Earth, Command, and Discipline.” My jaw ached when I spoke, but at least the swelling was beginning to recede.
“You learn faster than I do,” he said, smiling.
“But you understand them.” I shrugged against the damp cling of my borrowed gown. Sweat had gathered around the low neckline, but I did not want to wipe it away while he watched.
“You will understand, too.”
Although his firm belief bolstered me, I was not so sure a few days would be enough to grasp even the rudiments of Xsu-Ree’s wisdom. There was so much I did not know. All I had was the cunning of a salt slave and the reflexes of a liar.
He held back a branch as we pushed through a patch of spiny brushwood. “What is the Way of War?” he asked.
“The Way of War is the Way of Deception.” I glanced sideways at him, the little demon of mischief coming back to prod me. “I understand that one. From experience.”
He stopped, his smile deepening. “Indeed you do, Lord Eon.”
We stood, grinning at each other, cocooned in the hot thicket. Then something changed, as if the air contracted between us. He stepped closer. “You are not a lord now.”
I had to tilt back my head to meet his eyes. “No, I am—”
The rest of my words were lost in his intent gaze and the brush of his hand against my cheek.
For a moment, I smelled the green snap of tree gum on his fingers and the faint scent of smoky leather and horse. His skin was damp with sweat, the stark contours of his shaved head lost in a day’s dark growth. From someplace deep came an urge to reach up and run my hand across the soft bristle.
But I had seen that same look in Ido’s eyes. In the whipmaster’s eyes. Even in my master’s eyes. I stepped back.
“I am your Naiso,” I said.
It was a flimsy shield. As my emperor, he had the right to take whatever he wanted. Yet his hand dropped from my face, the intensity pulled back on an indrawn breath.
“My truth bringer,” he said.
I bowed my head. If our eyes met again, he would see the weakness in my armor. And my guilt.
“You are right,” he said. “I should not emulate my father.”
His words brought my head up, but he had already turned away. As he strode past the last of the overhanging trees, he ripped off a branch and flung it with such force that it startled a pheasant into whirring flight.
“You have a talent for irritating His Majesty,” Dela said behind me.
“It is my duty, isn’t it?” I said, not quite sure what had happened between us. “I’m his Naiso.”
“That kind of irritation is not usually one of the Naiso’s duties,” she said wryly. She touched my arm, urging me to walk by her side. “Then again,” she added, “he is only following his father’s example.”
I caught her shoulder, pulling her around to face me. “He mentioned his father, too.”
She nodded, as if she had overheard our conversation. “It was not common knowledge, but the old emperor did have a Naiso. She was his concubine and mother of his first-born son.”
“Lady Jila was his Naiso?” My mind struggled to recast the elegant beauty into political advisor.
Dela’s smile was sad. “And a most worthy one, although the old emperor did not listen to her warnings about his brother. She was a remarkable woman. No wonder the old emperor eschewed all others.”
We both looked at the straight-backed figure of Kygo ahead. “I am not going to be his concubine,” I said fiercely.
“You are missing the point,” Dela said. “Lady Jila was not just a concubine. Certainly, she had the power of her body, but she also had much more.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know. It is something you must come to yourself.” She held out the red folio, her face somber. “Your ancestress should have considered the dangers of such power.”
“Have you found something?”
She stroked the red leather binding and the rope of pearls in her palm clicked in response. “This is not Kinra’s journal of her union with the Mirror Dragon.”
I closed my eyes, the disappointment like a bright pain in my head.
Dela took my hand and squeezed it gently. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you were hoping for some guidance. I don’t think there will be any clues to your link with Ryko, either.”
I returned the pressure; Ryko would be even more unhappy at such news, and I knew it pained Dela to hurt him.