The Dragons of Nova (Loom Saga #2)(34)
An unusual emotion crept up on him, a jealousy of sorts for Cain’s unexpected awareness of Arianna—though it had been Cvareh’s decision for him to look after her in the first place. Cain was the only one Cvareh trusted to not be completely overrun by Arianna’s mannerisms, which seemed to hold true. Cvareh had thought he needed space from her to clear his head, but now regret for the decision to let anyone else stay at her side was sudden and swift.
The woman had been quiet for some time, but a sharp hiss of pain brought Cvareh’s attention back to the door. She continued on. His watch continued alongside her.
He sat, the back of his head resting against the barrier that kept him from her. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of her labor. Behind his eyelids, he remembered the first time he’d watched her hands work on the ship they rode to cross the inner sea between Ter.4 and Ter.5. They’d moved deftly, fixing engine problems with fearless precision.
Those hands would be gone, in their place something new. Cvareh had never thought about it quite under the same circumstances, but Fenthri had the capacity to change, to grow. Being a Chimera, adding new organs, they became something more. He had been born into his skin and he would keep it with him until the day he died.
But she was something more now than she was a mere few hours ago.
She was always something more.
His memories played like a soft lullaby in dark harmony with the sounds of her labors. Sounds that, for all their gruesome truths, told him she was still alive. A morbid peace took over him as he waited away the night.
Shifting stirred Cvareh from an unexpected sleep. He blinked his eyes open, wondering how and when he fell asleep. The echoes of Arianna’s labors played in his ears and Cvareh tried to make sense of when they’d quieted enough for him to slumber.
The hallway was illuminated with the brightness of dawn, windows cutting beams of light in the quiet corner of the manor. Just as his mind was shrugging off the haze of sleep, the door behind him opened. Cvareh toppled backward, catching himself at the last second with an elbow, nearly colliding with the pair of legs that waited on the inside of the door.
They were a pale blue color, not unlike his own. Leather shorts, similar to what Petra would fashion herself in, hugged mostly bare hips. Strips of crossed fabric bound over her breasts, the dark wine color offsetting the hue of her exposed skin in a way Cvareh would’ve never himself attempted. And yet, he must commend her for it, as there was something quite striking about the color contrast. Her eyes were the same purple color, but her hair had gained a more golden shade, framing the only thing familiar about the woman staring down at him.
“Since you seem to be suddenly insistent on keeping my company, you can be the one to take me out of this place.”
The voice was distinctly Arianna. Nothing could change her tone and cadence. But it was a strange disconnect to see it coming from a Dragon’s mouth.
“Up with you.” She nudged him with her foot. “I want to see this Isle of Ruana.”
15. Yveun
Yveun tapped his quill mindlessly upon the desk as he looked out over the wide balcony to his left.
The world had been quiet, almost quiet enough to give the illusion that all was right within it. But Yveun knew better. He did not appreciate the silence from his guild advisers down on Loom. He certainly knew better than to think the relative silence from Petra meant the woman had given up on her foolishly grandiose ambitions.
But those were two areas over which he had no control. His advisers on Loom were doing the best they could, considering the current climate within the guilds. The one he’d sent to get a hold on the Alchemists had been put off time and again, enough so that Yveun was nearly at the point of applying force. And Yveun had never boasted a measure of control over Petra, which was part of the problem.
He looked back down at his papers, rubbing his temples. If he looked at the balcony, he saw the ghost of Leona, reminding him of his immense failure in losing one of his greatest assets. If he looked at his work he was reminded of the guilds on Loom and all their troubles.
It all left only one frustration for him to focus on: Fennyr.
The elder brother of his enemy had been given what Yveun considered a simple task. Sniff out some information, any information. It couldn’t possibly be difficult. But his lack of results reminded Yveun why, despite being older than Petra, Fennyr was not the Oji of House Xin.
Still, Yveun had cause for hope. Fennyr had finally been invited home by Petra. The Dono rarely let his wards return to their respective islands, but he was all too eager to make an exception in this case.
He had been patient, but his patience was finally running out. The man had been gone for three days now, and Yveun wondered what could possibly be taking so long.
He tapped his quill again.
He lamented over the state of Loom.
His mind tortured him with the need to find a suitable replacement for Leona.
He could even smell the stink of the Chimeras House Rok kept deep below from where he sat, wafting up to his wandering mind like a foul potpourri that perfectly complemented his rotten state.
The distractions were unkind and it took Yveun nearly twice his usual time to attend to the resource allocation of both Loom and Nova. It was a delicate balance, one that was getting marginally easier with time, albeit no less tedious. Now that Fenthri were raised and kept in the guild they were born into, there were more exact counts on what each guild needed to sustain itself. Enough years had also passed that it was becoming clearer how many would survive, on average, the guild tests at Initiate and Journeymen to then become part of the general population.