The Dragons of Nova (Loom Saga #2)(35)

Before, the land below was running through resources like wildfire, uncontrolled and unabashed. Had contact with Nova not been made, Yveun doubted they would have been able to sustain themselves for much longer before reaching their limit. And yet the Fenthri remained ungrateful to the good changes he was trying to implement.

Yveun stood from his desk, gathering his monthly updates. Not much changed with each cycle of the moon, just small shifts in how he wanted to see trade managed. But year after year, progress was made.

Lossom, his current Master Rider, waited outside his room. Yveun had yet to allow the man into his space.

“Tell me of the happenings beneath Lysip,” Yveun demanded as they walked. There were precious few hours in the day to waste any. He had yet to grant the young man quarters in the great Rok Estate and, for the time being, it meant he would also serve as Yveun’s eyes to the underside of the island.

“There was a dispute between some no-titled and some Bek.” Such was par for the course. Two of the lower rungs of society fighting tooth and nail. “A Veh chose to involve himself.”

“A Veh?” Yveun was actually interested now. “Why would a Veh bother with no-ranked squalor?”

“Because the no-titled slew all the Bek and proceeded to feast on them before their families.”

Yveun considered this. When Lossom had originally said “some no-titled” he had assumed his Rider to be speaking of multiple people—not a single person whose name he merely did not know. That made it all the more interesting.

“And did the Veh put this no-name to rest?”

“The Veh was killed, Dono.”

Even after feasting on the hearts of fallen foes, for a no-name to defeat a Veh… This no-name had Yveun’s interest. “What does this no-title go by?”

“I do not know.” Admitting as much made Lossom nervous. Nothing pleased Yveun more.

“Find out,” Yveun commanded. “Or better, bring him to me.”

“Her,” Lossom corrected.

Her.

All the better. In Yveun’s experience, women were fiercer fighters than men. He had a list of theories longer than his claws on the why, but it made no difference. All he had to look at was the evidence around him: Coletta, Leona, Petra, Camile, and a handful of other Riders he’d seen come and die. Women approached every battle as though it was their last, and they had nothing left to lose but everything to prove.

“Bring her to me.” Yveun would be truly impressed if the man could. It was likely a matter he would pass to Coletta and her quiet flowers, whose unassuming roots ran deep.

“As you wish.” Lossom bowed, holding his position as Yveun entered the Hall of Whispers.

It was a long corridor with doors on either side. Emblazoned on every door was a plate that bore two names. The first was the occupant of the room; the second was the person with whom the occupant shared a whisper link. The Hall of Whispers served as the main communication hub for Nova and Loom, and it was entirely under Yveun’s control.

Yveun first went to the whisperer who had a link with the Harvesters’ guild, explaining the message that was to be delivered down to Loom. He repeated the process for every guild but the Alchemists. Yveun had been hoping that by throttling their resources, he would finally force the guild’s hand into accepting his advisement and oversight, but they remained as persistent as ever. They would not relish the alternative methods he would employ if forced.

He was halfway back to his quarters when a slave of House Rok stopped him with all the etiquette that could be mustered for one so lowly.

“Dono, Fennyr Xin’Kin To has returned,” the prostrating man reported.

Yveun’s triumph spread across his face. Finally, Fennyr had returned and he would have some answers. The slave held his reverence the entire time Yveun was visible. If he hadn’t, Yveun may well have killed him in a fit of delight.

The wildflowers of Lysip were in their second bloom. Their potent scent masked all others, effectively clouding magic and blood alike. It was one of the many reasons why the old Donos of House Rok had chosen this spot on which to build the estate. All manner of horror could be hidden behind the lovely petals of dragon snaps, lavender, honeysuckle, and the magical properties of Lord Agandi’s Flowers.

He entered Finnyr’s home without so much as a knock. The man nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of the Dono. Finnyr was pale, almost Fen-like in his overall pallor. Even his muted gold hair seemed to lack some of its luster. More disconcerting were the bruises that dotted his skin.

Yveun closed the door slowly behind him, assessing the frightened man-creature. He wasn’t concerned for the man’s well-being out of any friendly obligation. Finnyr was a tool in a greater game, a useful pawn and a powerful player when deployed properly, which meant Yveun cared about the picture all the signs added up to make. Some kind of trauma had clearly occurred, and Yveun wasn’t about to let any more of his chips be taken from him by unknown sources.

“Does Petra know?” Yveun asked foremost. If the rival Oji had ascertained Finnyr’s true loyalties, much would change.

“K-know?” Finnyr shook his head, pacing. “No, but her continued belief in my loyalty despite sleeping under your care has come at a new price.”

Yveun didn’t care what Petra charged her kin for their loyalty. “Did you find out the truth of Cvareh’s trip to Loom?”