The Alchemists of Loom (Loom Saga #1)(21)

“Six hours, and three Riders.” The sun lit fire in the King’s red eyes as he studied its progression through the sky.

The Dono was a handsome man. His wine-colored skin brought out the purple tones of his hair that, in turn, contrasted with the brilliant fury of his eyes. He was over sixty-five, Leona knew that much. She suspected he could even be pushing eighty. But he looked not a day past fifty, a man still well in his prime.

“It seems too much to track down one lowly Xin Soh.” He looked over to her, his stare ablaze with the same sort of quiet danger as lightning. Beautiful, enchanting even, from a distance. But it would strike and kill without warning.

“It does, Dono,” Leona had to agree. Her sister or no, the fact was a fact.

“Your sister, Sybil, isn’t it?”

She hated the way her sister’s name rumbled the back of his throat. “Sybil Rok’Anh Soh,” Leona specified for him.

They were both of house Rok, but Leona had the luck to be born of a Soh and a To, an upper common woman and a high noble. Her half-sister had not been so lucky. Their mother had chosen a life-mate who was also a Soh. Acceptable for their stature, but not so much in the way of getting Sybil ahead.

Leona didn’t know who her father was. Her and her sister had both inherited their mother’s crimson tinted skin, as the woman had been the alpha in both relationships. But, whoever he was, Leona thanked her sire silently most mornings as she stood next to the King.

“She seeks to be Sybil Rok’Anh Veh.”

“She does.” Leona couldn’t deny it. Having a sister who was two ranks higher in society had been a strain on Sybil for many years. Leona didn’t bother hiding her shadow; she cast it long and proud. Sybil would rise up and find her own light, or she would wither like a flower under the shade of a stronger tree.

“I gave her this as an opportunity to show me why she should be of my chosen nobility, to earn her rank.” Yveun started for the door and Leona followed.

“That is most generous of you, Yveun Dono.” It was generous. Sybil had no doubt been given the chance because of Leona’s track record. If she squandered it, that was entirely on her, and she’d find no sympathy from Leona on the matter.

“I am quite generous, aren’t I?” He was amused.

“Without a doubt. It is why we are so joyful to bend completely before you.” They walked through a long hall. Glass arched over top like sailcloth ballooned with wind. Wood and metal made a ribcage at irregular intervals to support it. The Rok estate in Lysip spared no expense in its crafting. The unnatural borrowed from the natural world as stones morphed from uncut to elegant sculptures supporting metalwork that could only be completed by a master craftsman. There were many who fought to rise high enough in society to spend a night on the magnificent grounds. And this was the place Leona called home.

“No half measures.” The King recited the motto of House Rok. He paused, making a show of inspecting a carving he had seen hundreds of times.

“Something House Xin would be best to learn,” Leona muttered.

“The Xin’Oji is our guest today,” the King cautioned against her transparent insult.

“Of course, Dono.” Leona bowed and held the position.

A hand floated under her chin. Leona lifted her face at the unspoken command, his fingertips hovering just over her skin—never touching. She should be thankful he avoided making contact. His hallowed flesh was above hers.

And yet, by every God in the pantheon, she yearned for it. He owned her mind with his decree. He owned her soul with his very presence. She had nothing more to give him if he gave her his touch as well.

He looked down at her, and she up at him. Leona reveled in the silence, in the feeling of his attention on her. It was that feeling that pushed her to victory in every duel she’d ever fought as the King watched on. She lived for him and silently affirmed it every time she thought he might be asking without words.

The King dropped his hand and departed. She waited a few steps before following behind. They were never seen walking side by side before anyone of importance. That spot was reserved for his life-mate, the Rok’Ryu. But Coletta’Ryu was rarely seen outside of her quarters.

The red room was aptly named. Wood stained in various shades of the color alternated in a pattern on the floor and up the walls, even on the ceiling. It was sparse compared to the other adornments in the Rok manner, and made the single, golden chair look all the more important.

A child turned away from inspecting the Dono’s throne a little too closely. Petra Xin’Oji To was younger than fifty, and already the Oji of a Dragon house. No, Leona knew better than to underestimate the woman before them. She had challenged her eldest brother to a duel at twenty and won. Her mother fell before her when Petra turned twenty-three. The woman had challenged her own father at thirty and consumed his heart in its entirety to gain his rank and title. They said she didn’t even flinch as she imbibed her sire’s still-beating strength.

Petra may look a child. But her gold eyes shared the same qualities as the Yveun Dono’s. This was a woman on a mission. And those eyes looked right through their King to the chair upon which he sat. Everyone knew Petra’s lust for the throne, and it was that desire that had turned House Xin from the annoyance it had been under Petra’s father, to a threat.

“Petra’Oji,” the King said after he had settled in his throne.