The Dragons of Nova (Loom Saga #2)(63)

Petra turned, disappearing through a curtained hall and onto a shaded balcony. The sticky scent of fruit that had been baking in the sun all day upon silver platters created a masking perfume to the carnage that happened in the pit. Petra’s eyes fell upon two lounging couples—luckily Xin and Tam.

“Out with you,” she commanded. “I require this space.”

The Dragons exchanged a look. She could sense their displeasure at the prospect of being uprooted. But they obliged her, every last one.

Petra turned to the slave who stood in the corner by the table, a scrawny little Tam with the symbol of Xin emblazoned upon her cheek. Petra had made sure that all the slaves and low servants were wine-or forest-skinned Dragons. She wanted Tam and Rok Dragons to look upon the men and women who had left their Houses and now wore Xin’s mark forever. She wanted to test the slaves’ loyalty. She wanted all to see Dragons that were previously Rock and Tam now under her claws, and serving her as the picture of obedience.

“Bring me Finnyr Xin’Kin To,” Petra ordered. “You will find him with the Dono.”

The servant nodded, departing in haste. Petra walked over to the un-railed edge of the balcony. The sun was starting to dip low in the sky. If Court hadn’t been formally ended, it would be soon.

The Crimson Court was always between dawn and sunset. The priests taught that Lady Luc, the Light-herald, was born each morning by the hand of Lord Rok. Each night, she was slain by Lord Xin, to make room for his brother, Lord Pak the Dark-wielder, to overtake the sky. Lord Rok fought against Lord Pak until the dawn… when the cycle repeated.

House Rok held the Crimson Court during the hours of their patron’s Lady. Long ago, when it was the Cobalt Court, duels were held at night. Petra tensed her claws, relaxed them. Her mind filled with the fantasy of midnight blue Dragons swirling through the pit like wraiths made from shadow and death, illuminated by the moon, and fighting for House and glory.

“You summoned me.”

Petra turned, her thoughts pushed back into the far recesses of her most delightful fantasies. Finnyr stood just inside the still-swaying curtain. Petra tried to remember the last time she’d seen her brother as she assessed him.

He was still small; his time at House Rok had put no might on his bones. It was further affirmation that nothing about Rok or Lysip was inherently mighty. Petra had narrower hips and shoulders than her brother, but her muscle held twice the raw power and her magic was overwhelming in comparison.

Finnyr, her pale-skinned brother with his tarnished hair. The child of House Xin that should never have been born.

“Come, Finnyr.” She smiled, displaying her canines, and motioned for the spot next to her. “It has been some time since we last spoke face to face.”

“It has.” He obeyed, standing in the spot she selected for him.

“You appear to be well. Has House Rok treated you properly?”

He snorted. “As well as can be expected from House Rok.”

That was an acceptable answer. “And the Dono?”

“He gives me no cause for complaint.”

“Unfortunately,” Petra lamented. She would always stand with her House first, but there would be something quite convenient about Yveun abusing her brother, giving her enough cause to challenge the Dono outright.

“He has never harvested any of my parts.”

Petra folded her hands in front of her abdomen to keep her claws from unsheathing. Finnyr was familiar enough with the motion that he visibly tensed, realizing what he’d done. Petra took a half step away from the ledge, toward Finnyr’s back.

“Brother, who is the Xin’Oji?”

“You are.”

“And what House do you belong to?”

“House Xin.”

“Therefore, what must you never do?”

Finnyr sighed heavily. “Petra, I was not questioning your decision, I was merely stating—”

Petra’s arm shot out without even half a thought behind it. Her claws extended beyond her fingertips like magic daggers. They hovered at the edge of his throat.

“Finnyr, your very existence happens at my allowance,” she growled. “You are not to think, you are not to hesitate. It was these traits by which you lost your place as the rightful heir to House Xin. Have some shame and work to make yourself useful.”

She wanted to love him. She wanted to embrace her brother as a fellow warrior. If he had been strong, the responsibility of Xin would’ve never fallen to her. Not that she’d minded, of course. But he was an embarrassment of a brother and had been the shame of their mother and father. His weakness continued to be a blemish on the opinion of their House from the rest of Nova. Unlike Cvareh, it was not a calculated play. Finnyr was truly inept.

Fear colored his magic, even if he didn’t let it show on his face. Petra kept her claws at his throat.

“Now, tell me of the Dono.” Anger singed the edges of her consciousness.

“I know nothing more than I’ve told you before.”

“You didn’t know of the new Master Rider?” Petra scowled.

“I did, but—”

“You did not think to inform me?”

“I did not think it was of note.” Finnyr held up his hands, showing that his claws were still not out despite Petra’s being at his throat. “You must have assumed, with Leona’s death, that the Dono would find a new Master Rider. And with all the other Dragons that perished hunting Cvareh on Loom, the Dono didn’t have many choices. Lossom was no one of importance, and a Dragon without much experience.”