The Dragons of Nova (Loom Saga #2)(14)
Waiting for him in the hall was the man-child he’d been forced to choose as his new Master Rider. Yveun did not even lay eyes upon the boy. He was barely twenty. His age made his three beads more impressive, but all Yveun could see was how scarce they were compared to Leona’s.
He needed to call a Crimson Court soon and test the mettle of his Riders. A few would fall, and a few unexpected upstarts would distinguish themselves from the pack. Yveun would pluck them from their humble beginnings for a place on the top of Lysip. He could only hope a woman would emerge from the lot as a potential candidate for Master Rider. He had a much easier time manipulating a creature he could leverage sexuality against.
“Finnyr?” he demanded.
“In his quarters, I believe.” The Rider endeared himself to his lord by knowing exactly what Yveun sought in nothing more than a word.
Beads clicked softly around Yveun’s neck as he walked, holding a decorative plate that bore the symbol of House Rok over his bare chest. The silver contrasted brilliantly with his wine-colored skin. Around his waist was a simple sash, holding in place a draped cloth in both front and back. Otherwise, his physique was apparent, cut muscle rippling ominously with each aggravated stride.
Even the Rider gave him an extra half-step of space. Nervousness flashed across his magic, assuring Yveun that his choices in how to present himself were well founded. He leveraged his sexuality against his female riders, his physical presence against male riders. In both, sheer dominance prevailed.
In the end, Yveun didn’t care if his subjects loved or feared him, so long as the emotion was an all-consuming one.
“Dono,” a green-skinned man greeted him and stepped to the side. He was a Kin from House Tam, a ward of the Dono’s to assure the other House’s loyalty to their sovereign. But, just having him on Lysip wasn’t enough.
Around the man’s neck was a thin gold chain. The tempering on the metal whispered familiarity to Yveun, assuring him that his magic was the only force by which the metal could be controlled. Keeping the most important family members of the two subservient Houses might have been sufficient for some other, less King, but Yveun preferred adorning his wards with nooses he could tighten with a thought.
Above all else was his dominance over Loom and Nova.
The Rok Estate opened up on the north side, spilling over the hillside in wandering arcades that connected smaller chalets. The Dono smiled, inhaling the potent scent of wildflowers and subservience.
This was where his most loyal subjects lived. Chosen Kin of Xin and Tam—immediate family to the Oji and Ryu of the Houses. The Dono invited them to the Rok Estate and gave them some of the most lavish accommodations in all of Nova. They ate like kings and slept like brothel masters. They were given honors of state and management of affairs both on Loom and Nova. It was a life that many could only dream of.
And all he asked for in return was their unyielding and unquestioning loyalty.
He strode past his subservient subjects on a mission towards one of the middle homes. Yveun did not even knock before crossing the threshold of a stately one-roomed chalet. Just the man he was looking for stared, startled, from behind a desk that could nearly rival Yveun’s in quality. Nearly rival.
“Dono.” Finnyr stood only to fold at the waist in a low bow. “I was not expecting you this morning.”
“Weren’t you?” Yveun folded his arms over his chest, widening his stance.
“My lord?” Confusion shone true from Finnyr’s face into his magic. He clearly had not consulted the whisperer for House Xin. Or, more likely, Petra hadn’t sent any word of the King’s venture this morning.
Yveun let the accusations drop. “Finnyr, where do your loyalties lie?”
“My King, they lie where they have always been, with you and House Rok.” His brows, the color of tarnished gold, knitted together, drawing lines in his powder blue flesh.
“I have no room for question in this.” Yveun crossed the remaining distance to the desk opposite the other man. “The Guilds on Loom still resist me. Those that do not outright have yet to fully embrace the structure which I am attempting to impose upon them—structure that is the only thing standing in the way of the world below being lost to their own devices as they leech off the earth past the breaking point.”
“None have understood the gravity of this more than I.”
Finnyr was a smart and resourceful man. What he lacked in physical prowess he made up for in mental fortitude. It was the only thing that had kept him alive for the past decade. He was certainly of no other use to his family. Though Yveun had found creative ways to apply his talents.
“I cannot fight battles on two fronts. I cannot give Loom the attention it needs when I am being picked apart from within.”
Finnyr paled to nearly the white of a Fenthri. He’d heard all the layered meanings in Yveun’s words. They had not been on entirely good terms since the schematics were stolen.
“How may I serve you, Dono? You are our one true King.”
“I hope you believe that,” Yveun pushed.
“You are everything.”
That the Dono believed. Without him, Finnyr would long be dead. And Yveun knew that he held the key to the future Finnyr sought. It was a shameful bargain for a Dragon to make, to seek power and prestige through a means other than sanctioned duels. But Finnyr was a Xin, and the Xin put their ends before the means used to achieve them. They would cut out their own eye and sell it to a Harvester if it benefited their goals, and that was how Yveun had ended up in this predicament to begin with.