The Dragons of Nova (Loom Saga #2)(55)
“She seeks to make a fool of you, Yveun.”
“Doesn’t she always?” He took another healthy drink from his wineglass.
“You have walked into her home to let her do it.” Coletta rarely guarded her tongue to anyone, Yveun included.
“She will be the fool before the day is done,” Yveun swore.
“See that she is, Dono.” Coletta gave him a cautionary stare. “I grow tired of this game I’ve let you play.”
A growl rose from his throat as his mate walked to one of the plush seats. It escaped as a roar that echoed throughout the amphitheater. A third of the seats were still empty, as the upper echelons of Dragon society slowly flowed in from the revelries outside. But Yveun was done waiting, and they all functioned at his behest.
He threw down his glass. Wine arced through the air like crimson rain before splattering between shards of glass in the pit far below. The very wind itself seemed to hold its breath for his decree.
“I did not travel from Lysip for wine.” His voice boomed, echoing off every pillar and person. “I traveled for blood. I traveled to thin my fattening Court. I traveled to see which of you are deserving of your names and which of you have yet to grow into the titles you were born for.”
No one spoke. No one breathed.
“Let the Crimson Court commence!” he shouted so loudly the very heavens rumbled. “Who will be the first challenger?”
A man stood, eager for the honor of being the first in the pit, to be the one whose feet would touch that hallowed and unsoiled ground. Yveun bared his teeth in utter delight that the man was one of House Rok. Unsurprisingly, he called against one of House Xin for an offense of cheating committed in his card room.
The two leapt over people and empty stands, descending into the pit as claws and teeth and rage. With no objection from Yveun, they collided. Gold splattered the walls, the smell of freshly cut grasses filling the air from the Xin. It mingled and soured against the smell of huckleberry from the Rok. The two scraped and scrambled for a long few minutes, shredding each other to pulp.
But, as Yveun expected in all things, the man of House Rok eventually won the upper hand.
He tore the Xin man’s heart still beating from his chest. He held it up with a primal cry, golden blood running down his arm and dripping onto his face before slowly evaporating into the air. The Rok man brought the heart to his mouth and took a glutinous bite.
Rok and Xin battled into the afternoon. For every one Rok challenge, there were two Xin. Tam may as well have not even shown up. It was clear who was fighting for dominance in this Court. Yveun missed half the fights, his seat positioned too far back and too high for a good view. But every time he graced the edge of the balcony, the Rok fighters below battled twice as hard and went for increasingly vicious kills.
As a result of this poor positioning, it was afternoon by the time he finally realized the House Xin box had been filled. Yveun’s blood ran hot at the mere sight of Cvareh, the lying bastard brother of the bitch who pursued his demise as though she had nothing else in the world to worry over.
“Lossom,” he summoned his current Master Rider. The man was at his side in an instant. “Challenge Cvareh’Ryu.”
“Dono, I have no cause for a challenge against the Xin’Ryu…” Lossom’s hesitation was almost enough for Yveun to kick him face-first into the pit below and let whoever desired tear him limb from limb and lick his bones clean.
They had cause a hundred times over. The death of each one of his Riders on Loom would be more than enough for Yveun to order any Rok to challenge Cvareh. But that would first require admitting that the Riders were on Loom to begin with. Yveun growled, caught in a snare of his own shadowy invention.
“Invent one.”
“But—”
“I am the Dono, Lossom. Comprehend what that means. If I support your demand for a duel, none will permit him to back out.” Yveun walked away from the edge, and toward his beacon of sanity lounging in the shape of a woman.
Cheers erupted from the duel ending. The runner of the ring, one of House Tam for all their love of balance, called for the next challenger. Yveun waited expectantly.
“I, Lossom Rok’Anh To, Master Rider to Yveun Dono, challenge Cvareh Xin’Ryu Soh as a liar, and for disgraces against the Dono’s name in the presence of a Rok.” Lossom didn’t flinch, completing the fatuous challenge with bold confidence. “Let he whose merit runs deepest through his veins live for the night’s revelries. Let he whose merit is a facade be reduced to blood upon the ground and shame upon his House.”
The arena had fallen silent. Every ear hung on Cvareh’s response. Yveun waited with a smirk. Cvareh could not back down. If he questioned the legitimacy he’d look like a coward, for they all knew Yveun was going to allow the duel. It was time for the Xin’Ryu to finally enter the ring and be put to rest, out of Yveun’s concerns once and for all.
“I stand for Cvareh’Ryu.” An unfamiliar woman’s voice rang out loud and clear.
Yveun stood slowly, walking to the edge. He had not expected anyone to stand for Cvareh against his Master Rider. To do so was the most foolish display of suicidal loyalty the Court had ever seen. Because if the one who stood for the accused fell, the accused was also put to death.
Far below, a pale blue woman stood with eyes like late sunset and hair the color of morning’s first light. She cut her place in the world with foolhardy arrogance, standing as though she were the personified herald of the Death Lord himself.