The Dragons of Nova (Loom Saga #2)(54)

He rode in a litter to the Court. It was a wide platform with low railings and a pointed roof covered in red clay tiles and edged in silver. The wooden base and poles were a fine mahogany, stained to a deep wine color. Textiles the colors of fire shone, silks glinting with sunlight. Sixteen men carried its bulk through the streets.

It stood in stark contrast to the lake blue pennons and people of House Xin that parted like waves around his metaphorical boat. Yveun kept his eyes forward, or on the woman who lounged next to him.

Coletta Rok’Ryu To was thin for a Dragon. She had never quite grown out of her girlish years, her face remaining soft and her cheeks rounded. Her ears pointed more outward than upward and her nose was thin and narrow, cutting between two eyes that looked all the larger for it.

She was his cherry woman. She smelled of the fruit and perfumed herself with it for added effect. Her flesh was creamy-orange, hardly red at all, but it reminded him of the sweet cherries that could be cultivated in the spring. Her hair was the bright red of a candied fruit of the same variety. But her eyes were truly striking, dark orbs that shone with the depth of a rich wine. The kind that could absorb a man whole.

Those same eyes looked listlessly at the world around them, as if it were all more trouble than what it was worth. For Coletta, it may well have been.

“Ruana has not changed much since the last time I was here,” she said softly. She was a humble and unassuming counterpart to the loud and dominating presence that was Yveun.

“And how often do you come to Ruana?”

“Too often, in that I come at all.” She lay back. Gossip-mongers would continue to perpetuate her weak and sickly state. But all Yveun saw was the visage of a woman who was nothing more than fiercely bored.

“I appreciate your indulgence, Rok’Ryu.” He spoke sincerely. Coletta wasn’t one for leaving her gardens or… diversions. But she had packed and mounted her boco without question upon hearing that the Court was to be held on Ruana.

“You should never have any doubt.” The words were almost threatening, on the off chance he sincerely had.

“In you? Never.” Truer words had yet to be spoken that day.

“Besides, you need me.” Her mouth pressed into a thin and knowing smile that Yveun could never deny. “So, what role am I playing by day while we are here?”

He was the sun, and she was his moon. Forever in orbit, perpetually watching the sky while the other slumbered. Thus, by day, she operated by his wants and rules. By night, he by hers. “The same role you usually do. No one will challenge you if they think it will be a poor, shameful duel with a sickly Ryu.”

Coletta laughed softly. When she smiled he could see the gray of her gums, turned to ash with her secretive and underhanded business.

“Let them challenge me, Yveun, and see how long they live.”

Yveun smiled back at his mate, baring his teeth. If anyone did ever challenge the Rok’Ryu, they would answer to him. Yveun would never let another touch his queen. They should hope to answer to him. For, if Coletta had her way, the death would be infinitely more painful and drawn out than anything Yveun could devise.

The amphitheater was even more impressive up close. Every fifth column was the sculpture of a Dragon—ones he did not recognize but could only assume were important to House Xin. Wide, bat-like wings extended behind them, supporting the second tier of seating and arcade windows that let in the breezes from above. Sapphires as big as his head made their eyes, shining keenly at all who entered through the archways below.

They were met by a tall man with skin the color of sea foam. His name faded away from Yveun’s immediate memory into the realm of unimportance, but Finnyr seemed to recognize him. The two exchanged a tense look before the man led them up a quiet stair.

“The Xin’Oji has prepared this viewing platform especially for you, Dono.” He bowed, motioning for Yveun and his party to continue.

The balcony was high, the highest in the amphitheater, laden with fineries and draped in chiffon that danced upon the wind. It was a box befitting of a king positioned among the nameless and slaves.

In all other instances, he would insist on being the highest in a room, the better to loom over all that was his. But at the Court he wanted to be in the thick of it. He wanted to be so close to the pit that blood could splatter his cheeks. He wanted to be—

Yveun walked over to the edge of the balcony.

—where Petra was sitting.

The woman raised her glass of Xin wine with a thin smile. It was a restrained motion, but a quiet jab all the same. Yveun waged an internal war. He could demand her position, but then he would look like the insecure ruler who needed a place to solidify his prowess. Tam would certainly trade him; their platform was in the middle of the arena. But the spot was fitting for those who kept the balance. Furthermore, he was the Rok’Oji Dono, and he would not rely on a Tam.

“Wine,” Yveun growled, holding out his hand. He didn’t even see who supplied it.

He raised his own glass to Petra, staring down the woman for a long moment. She sipped, and he did the same. Yveun turned and stalked to his seat, virtually out of sight for the masses below. No, he asked no man or woman for pity. If he was to be seated above them all, he would appear like a god to rule over life and death and the Dragon Court. He made concessions to no man or woman.

The man who had escorted them to the box departed. Finnyr, Coletta, Lossom, and two of his most trusted Kin remained. Coletta stepped forward, dropping her voice to a hush meant only for his ears.