The Alchemists of Loom (Loom Saga #1)(34)

A single ribbon where there should be several.

Cursing, she made her way to the landing platform. All the while, Leona was waiting for the sound of more gliders, but none came. A total of five Riders had descended to Loom and only one had returned? Something was off—and Leona, as head of the Riders, would find out.

The platform was a wide, open expanse of cement. Ironwork weaved against tall grasses and wild flowers on the perimeter. The manor opened like the mouth of a fish gasping for water and Leona was equally hungry for information.

The Rider eased their glider onto the platform. It looked lonely as the sole vessel returning, its wide, golden wings dwarfed by the potential capacity of the landing pad. Leona raised a hand to her forehead, pulling away stray bits of garnet colored hair. A familiar woman released the pulleys on the back of the glider and hopped off with an exhausted sway. Bruises from the exertion of flying the glider quickly faded from her skin.

Leona crossed over to her. The Fen slaves stayed behind, waiting to service the flying contraption. They knew their place well and wouldn’t interrupt.

“Sybil.” Leona dragged her thumb across her palm. Her sister copied her, cutting a golden line into her flesh. The two clasped hands, gold smearing against gold before it could dissipate on the air.

“Leona To.” Her sister never forgot Leona’s proper title.

“You are…alone?”

“There has been trouble.”

Sybil—sweet, nervous, uncertain, aspiring Sybil. The girl nearly stuttered over her words. That was the moment Leona knew there would be no helping her from what awaited. Leona didn’t have to know what ‘trouble’ her sister was speaking of. This was supposed to have been a straightforward mission, simple enough that even a novice should have been able to complete it.

“Say no more. It is not me you will need to answer to this night.”

Sybil’s face paled at her sister’s severity; Leona could practically smell the fear radiating off her. She turned and started for the red room. It was the room Yveun Dono preferred for meetings he wasn’t looking forward to.

The King was waiting for them, dressed in the rich velvets and heavy fabrics of his evening garb. His chest was bare from the opening in the middle of his sleeveless robes. They spilled over the edge of the chair and pooled around his feet. A wrapped belt held up wide-legged pants that swayed slightly as he shifted his feet.

“Sybil, you have returned to me.” The King smiled wide, displaying his canines.

Leona stopped at the door. She couldn’t help her sister now. Sybil walked to the center of the room alone. Whatever awaited her, she had brought upon her own head. There was no helping it.

“Yveun Dono.” Sybil sunk to a knee. “No half measures in my love for your rule.”

Leona rolled her eyes. Yveun Dono’s attention shifted slightly, his mouth twitching in genuine amusement. Sybil never learned, no matter how many times Leona explained. Yveun Dono didn’t have time for needless praise and pomp from his loyal lowers. There was only one thing he wanted from them: results. Everything else was just a cheap excuse that disgraced the true meaning of their House.

“Yes…” the King drawled. “Sybil, why are you alone? I sent you with Riders and then granted two more at your sister’s suggestion to seek you out after you had not returned in two whole days. Now, you stand before me alone.”

Leona could smell her sister’s rising panic.

“Tell me, are my other Riders waiting on Loom in dramatic suspense, holding Cvareh in chains until you summon them up here?”

“Not quite, Dono.…” Sybil faltered.

No one spoke. The silence grated on Leona’s ears. Sybil was failing test after test. She had crossed the threshold of incompetence and was now flirting with suicidal foolhardiness.

“Sybil, you were asked a question,” Leona pressured.

“He landed in New Dortam, but eluded us. We found him among the scum in Old Dortam, but then he escaped—”

“How does Cvareh Xin, a man not known for his prowess in duels or particular cunning, escape five of my Riders?” Yveun Dono flexed his hands, his claws extending just barely from his fingertips.

“He has help.”

“Help? From who? Only one glider was stolen from the Rok estate and no other Houses are permitted the technology.”

“A Chimera,” Sybil clarified. “And another Fen.”

“A black-blooded monstrosity, and a Fen.” Yveun Dono ran his fingertips over his lips. “You’re telling me that is what has made fools of my Riders?”

“They killed the rest.”

Leona wanted to throttle her sister. The details were obvious; saying them did nothing to help her case. But blended with her annoyance was intrigue. As impossible as Sybil’s claims seemed, the fact remained that four Riders were dead. Even with incompetent leadership, that shouldn’t happen.

“Where is Cvareh now?” Yveun Dono asked.

“He escaped us in the port city of… Territory 5?”

Ter.5.2, Leona thought to herself. It had taken months for her to memorize the various cities of Loom. Numbers on numbers. Ridiculous. Someone had explained the logic of it to her, but it was all dull and gray and forgettable, just like the Fen themselves.

“Cvareh Xin escaped you? A lowly Xin, a Fen, and a dirty Chimera not only evaded but killed my Riders, twice?”