The Dragons of Nova (Loom Saga #2)(46)
“Hardly. You couldn’t be more correct, it was time to visit the seam masters.” Cvareh mentally cursed Petra, again, for not ordering clothes to greet him upon his return.
“And what a time it is! I was just there myself ordering a new jerkin to wear to the Court.”
“The Court?” Cvareh repeated, certain he’d misheard his friend.
“How have you not heard?” Zurut was in shock. “The Crimson Court will be happening on Ruana within the fortnight. It’s been all the talk across the city this afternoon.” His friend’s eyes drifted toward Arianna. “Though I see your attentions have been elsewhere.”
Cvareh had always known that choosing a mate beyond superfluous play would result in quite the talk. It was natural as the Ryu, and sometimes the tea parlors on Ruana were hard up for gossip. But today was not one of those days.
He muttered off an introduction, his mind elsewhere. He couldn’t even be certain what name and title he’d given Arianna, if it was the same as the one he’d fabricated before. He couldn’t be bothered.
A Crimson Court on Ruana.
The Dono intended to wash the streets gold with Xin blood. There would be no harbor, no excuses for why key members of their House could not attend. They were being cornered and led to slaughter. And now he had exposed Arianna as his potential mate, a Xin’Anh, easy fodder for any woman who had sought Cvareh’s fondness and the prestige it gave for herself. Cvareh swallowed hard. It was likely to be his first court in the pit.
“Ari.” She stood at the tone in his voice alone. “We need to return to the Xin Manor. Now.”
He was worried for himself. He was worried for maintaining Arianna’s illusion. But his mind remained focused on one thing: his House. He had to return to his sister.
20. Yveun
Underneath the main continents of Nova, there was the “below”. The underbellies of the iceberg-shaped islands had been carved out and hollowed into a reversed anthill of maze-like passages, freezing alleyways, and the seedy abodes where all manner of business was conducted. It was the type of commerce that could only happen in a place where the sun didn’t shine.
Below was a place where the threads that bound the structure of Nova together would barely hold knots. Here was where the Anh and lower Da of Houses were sequestered. Further down were the Bek. And further down, still, lived those who barely had a name. Close to the Gods’ Line, close to the vulgar world of Loom where only first names were used and all elegant social structure was lost.
It was a place a King should never venture, for it was far, far beneath him.
But it was in these places that he dredged up gold from among the rock and raw metal of his society. Leona had come from these chilled and dank halls. He had been given whispers and guidance regarding the woman he would find down here from Coletta, and Yevun had pulled Leona into the sunlight, molding her into something that truly shone by obliging his whims. Once again, this would be how he would find his next Master Rider.
Hooded and robed, he kept his face downward, focused on the smooth, sinking stairs that wound around a building. Wind whipped against his left side, intent on pulling him from the perch and tipping him into the abyss below. Graffiti stretched against the wall under his palm, glazed with moisture from the perpetual chill. Xin swords and books were painted atop Rok crowns that dwarfed Tam scales.
Blood was thick in the air. He could almost see it alight in the alleyway he turned into. A fruit cocktail of the scents of Dragons who had died from illegal duels.
How many organs were fed to the Fen below from fights gone awry? It was a wonder that the race below the clouds hadn’t learned of Nova sooner. It was all chance that their world and the world below had been separate for so many years. It had been chance they had connected at all.
He’d been following the blood for hours now. It led him to illegal pits and questionable feeding halls that engaged in the darkest sort of trade one could imagine on Nova—imbibing off the living. It was said that when a Dragon had a taste of a living host, nothing could satiate the hunger that followed other than more blood. It ensured the feeding halls stayed in business with a slew of loyal patrons. It also drove Dragons to madness with the craze that set in when they had gone too long without their last taste.
Still, it would be in one of these places that he knew he would find her. His current Master Rider had about as much tact as a battering ram and, unsurprisingly, turned up nothing when he’d ventured under to ask questions. There were things Yveun knew he would have to do himself if he wanted them done at all. He couldn’t send another to do it, for that was no better than a half measure in the worst sort of way. The best foe was one slain with one’s own claws.
Revelries and betting flooded his ears as he neared the fighting pit. Yveun entered, unhindered, to take his place among the crowd. The runner of the ring sat at its side before a low table, deciding fighters, calling odds, and taking bets. It reminded him that was a role he still needed filled before the Crimson Court was to happen, lest Petra get the notion that she may suggest one of her own with the Court happening on Ruana. Unsurprisingly, the woman who ran the pit here was a Tam. The balance keepers of Nova were unparalleled in ensuring the best fights by sensing the skill of the fighters involved.
In the pit, two Dragons tumbled. A blue Xin with the symbol of House Rok emblazoned on his cheek and a green Tam with the same. It was a battle of underdogs, and no matter who won, all the red native-born Roks would be pleased with the outcome.