Eona by Alison Goodman Page B

mother. Dead.”
    â€œI know.”
    He looked at the carnage surrounding us. “What is this?” He closed his eyes. “I remember Ryko coming to the camp, telling me about the coup. And the soldiers … He pressed his fists to his eyes. “By the gods, I did this, didn’t I? Killed my own men? And those people, in the village—”
    Gagging, he bent double. The tension in his body gave way to shivering. He did not seek comfort; he was both man and king. Yet something within me knew I had to reach out and breach his lonely despair. It was a risk. His royal body was sacred, inviolate. And I had just fought a desperate battle to stop Kinra from killing him.
    It was the guilt and pain in his bloodied face that made me take the chance. I understood guilt and pain. I touched his shoulder, the hard muscle flinching under my fingers. His head snapped up, a lifetime of learned distance swamped by sudden need—something else we had in common. Awkwardly, I drew him closer, as much to escape the horror in his eyes as to comfort him, and murmured sounds of solace against his sweat-slick skin. His ghosts would come soon—as mine had—but the least I could do was hold them back for a while with my touch and a voice that was not screaming for mercy.
    Nearby, Ryko hauled himself to his feet, using a sword for leverage. At the corner of my eye, a flicker resolved into Haddo, still trading blows with Dela. He was very close to breaking the Contraire; her blocks were slipping, and there was no strength left in her thrusts. Ryko saw it, too. He gathered himself and ran at the combatants.
    â€œDela, fall back,” he yelled.
    With a desperate burst of strength, she disengaged. Ryko caught one of Haddo’s swords in a sweeping cut that sent it spinning into the air. It crashed to the cobblestones, loud in the sudden, eerie calm.
    I realized there was no clashing swords or cries of effort; the battle was over. The sounds now were of pain and prayer. Only two other men were standing: the captain and another guard. Both of them saw Ryko’s struggle and ran to help.
    Haddo turned to face the islander, his sword weaving with exhaustion. Every movement was a beat too slow; he would not last long, especially now that the captain and the other guard were on their way. Although I knew Haddo was the enemy, I could not see him slaughtered this way. There had already been too much death.
    â€œYour Majesty,” I said, grabbing the emperor’s shoulder.
    He lifted his head.
    â€œOrder Ryko to stop! Please.”
    Even as I said it, Ryko lunged. One blade flicked away Haddo’s remaining weapon; the other sliced across his shoulder, opening up a shallow gash. The lieutenant stumbled and fell, landing heavily on his back. Desperately, he rolled and clambered to his knees. But it was too late; Ryko swung his sword for the kill. Haddo’s fingers closed around the blood amulet at his throat; a final plea to Bross.
    â€œNo!” I screamed, flinging out my hand at the islander.
    Energy leaped between us. Deep within me, our pulses thundered together, our heartbeats drumming into one.
    Ryko froze, the sword suspended in its deadly arc above Haddo’s head. The islander’s massive shoulders strained to finish the blow, the fruitless effort drawing his lips into a snarl. He could not bring the sword down. Through our link, I felt his confusion explode into searing fury.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” he bellowed at me.
    Haddo saw his chance and threw himself to one side, twisting away from the hanging sword—straight into the path of the captain.
    The emperor rose to his knees. “Take him alive!”
    But the captain’s blade was already punching through Haddo’s chest, severing flesh from spirit in a gasping rush of death.

CHAPTER FIVE
    AS HADDO’S HUA drained away, Ryko roared his freedom, his sword finally finishing its futile journey. I knew I should turn to the