The Dragons of Nova (Loom Saga #2)(60)
“What do you mean?” Florence couldn’t comprehend what the man before her was saying. There was no path of logic that let her get to his point until he spelled it out.
“The Dragons, Florence. They saved Loom.”
27. Cvareh
The blood shone like liquid metal, caked upon her skin. It picked up the sunlight like some horrible truth that his mind, in all its efforts, could not fathom. Arianna had killed yet another of the Dono’s Master Riders. That should be the fact his mind circled around relentlessly.
But it wasn’t.
He stared at where her flesh had been punctured by Lossom’s claws. Gold streamed from the wound, mingled with the drippings of the heart she held up in victory. But it was clear enough with every pulse of her heart, clear as Lady Lei’s springs and rivers. For the first time, it was as if he was seeing the real woman behind the name.
“She actually did it,” Cain said in awe from Cvareh’s left.
“This court just got interesting.” Petra clapped her hands in appreciation from between them. His sister turned to him, summoning Cvareh from his thoughts. “You should go to the new Soh. She did stand for you, after all.”
Cvareh’s gaze swung to Arianna, but her back was to him. The woman had her eyes locked on Yveun Dono’s. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to challenge the King himself.
He moved, jumping down the short distance to the pit. Arianna tuned sharply, but relaxed visibly at the sight of him. Men and women shouted and cheered. Challenges flew above their heads, the Court whipping into a blood frenzy at the upset.
Cvareh’s eyes rose from her forearm to meet hers. “Come.” He held out a hand and she hesitated, the potent dissonance of the emotions in his magic giving her pause. But he had no hope of reining it in, not until he had explanations. “Come, Ari Xin’Anh Soh.”
She finally obliged, and took his hand.
Sweat glistened off her, even through the illusion. A perfect crafting, he realized, because she was already so close to a Dragon. She was stockier than most Dragon females, but she had the height and the speed of one of his kind. She had the eyes and the claws. The ears—if she ever removed the metal caps. She was more Dragon than he had ever given her credit for, than maybe she had ever realized.
And that fact was surprisingly disappointing. It was like everything that made her shine was losing its spark. The picture he had painted in his mind of her was losing all its complementary colors at the idea that there was something so important about her that she had knowingly kept from him. He hated his distance from her, and grew weary of the feeling of her keeping him at arm’s length.
They walked out of the light and into the dim of a hall, only to be greeted by other victors and the bold applause of servants. Arianna kept her eyes forward, oblivious to it all. The metal of the splint on her fingers pressed against his skin. Even with the surge of power from imbibing, holding the illusion must be tiresome…
“Where is an empty parlor?” he demanded.
“This way, Xin’Ryu.” A servant stepped forward, eager to appease. The girl led them down a side hall and into a modest sitting area, a room of rest and recovery for the victors in the pit. It was perfumed with lavender, incense, and the ripe smell of fruit and cheese that had sat out for an hour too long.
Cvareh dismissed the girl with a curt nod, eager to close the door behind her. The world shut out, there were only the four walls that surrounded him and the woman who had become his enigma. There was no one to pass judgment and no one to bear witness beyond themselves. Ari had yet to face him, yet to confront the truth that she undoubtedly knew he’d seen.
He took a breath, readying himself to speak.
“You’re welcome,” she interrupted.
“Pardon?” he nearly stuttered in surprise.
“I assume you were about to say thank you.” Arianna pulled off the splint from her fingers with a glance at the bolt engaged in the door.
The illusion fell. Her color faded to gray and white. Her tattoos were visible, inked back into existence by an invisible hand. The woman who should have been familiar seemed as false as the Dragon who had been in her place moments before. Her forearm betrayed no marks from the wound, yet Cvareh’s eyes were still glued to the spot.
“What are you?” he whispered.
She couldn’t have hidden her reaction if she tried. All his senses were honed on her. Cvareh practically heard the spark of tension through her muscles at the question.
“You know what I am.” She squared against him as if the room had become a new pit, and they were about to do battle.
“Do I?” Cvareh curled his hands into fists so that he would not unsheathe his claws in frustration. If she wanted a sparring partner, he would rise to task. And this time, he would not stay his claws against her.
“Do you?”
“Don’t be circular,” he growled. “I saw it.”
“Saw what?” She drew her height, coming nearly to eye level with him. “Me stand for you? Me fell your enemy? Me further prove that—” Arianna faltered. “That despite all the reasons I have to hate you, I clearly cannot bring myself to do so?”
The confession was virtually lost on him in his pursuit of the truth. She was trying to shift his focus. He wasn’t going to let her, even if it teetered on the verge of words he so very dearly wanted to hear.