The Dragons of Nova (Loom Saga #2)(7)
“If I must.” Cvareh sighed, already half dressed.
Servants had met them on the platform, preempting their needs. As soon as Cvareh had dismounted, his feet were in the wide legs of lounging trousers. While Petra had been speaking the help had woven a delicately embroidered shawl around his arms and across his shoulders. The final adornments were affixed about his neck, a silver chain with many loops, black stones reminiscent of the Rider’s beads weighting their apexes.
Those same servants disappeared back into the shadows and off even the edges of Cvareh’s subconscious as he followed his sister into their home. The floor of the main entry hall had been done in glass, save for a stone lip on the outer edge. The mountain beneath it had been carved away and radiant sunlight from the clouds far below filled the room. Petra walked boldly across it, Cvareh following in her steps.
She settled on a raised dais as the doors closed. A throne of stone, simple yet imposing, its angular lines cut into the hazy light projected upward from the floral-patterned glass. Cvareh wondered if Yveun Dono had yet to see his sister’s hall. The statement it made was hardly subtle.
“Now, tell me all that has transpired.” Petra’s tone changed the moment she sat upon the throne. Gone was his adoring little sister, overwhelmed with excitement and relief at the sight of him. In her place was the Xin’Oji, the deadly and fearless leader who had desired nothing more for the entirety of her short life than to be Dono.
Cvareh approached, settling himself cross-legged on one of the wide lower rungs of her dais. He remained poised with his back straight, instinctively answering her unspoken demand by assuming his place. If she was to be the Oji, then he was to be her Ryu.
“Flying the glider proved to be more of a challenge than expected. I didn’t get far before crashing in New Dortam, the Riders close on my tail…”
The words spilled from him as he watched the events of the past months replay before his eyes in double time. Things had grown hazy, especially at the onset. Details had faded into the obscurity of unimportance, shrouded by the more pertinent and immediately relevant parts.
One shining element remained in crystalline focus. At every turn and twist, he could see Arianna perfectly. He could recall with ease the expression she wore the first time she’d driven him to stop time. He remembered the contours of her face when her gaze softened as she looked at him on the ship crossing to Ter.4.2, the first moment he had seen beauty in the unique skills she possessed. Cvareh’s memories were painted with her, making their mere recollection an unparalleled delight.
His tale wrapped up with the Alchemists’ Guild. It was the most somber note of all he said. Despite all the progress he’d recounted, he and Arianna had left Loom at a place of tension and strangeness. But when he spoke his last words, the taste of honeysuckle tinted with cedar filled his mouth, evoked by the mere memory of the imbibing they had shared following the airship crash.
Petra hadn’t moved the entire time he spoke. She remained still and contemplative. Her magic was withdrawn tight to her body, betraying nothing.
“How long will she stay?” his sister finally asked.
“I don’t know,” Cvareh confessed. His summary had hardly been short, but it proved impossible to explain that he found himself in no place to question Arianna. “I presume she’ll want to leave as soon as she is confident in your leadership.”
His sister shifted, drawing her fingertips to her lips in thought. “This is an amusing little Chimera, isn’t it?” The corner of her mouth curled. “She has you quite ensnared and now designs to make me submit before her as well.”
“She is not one to be underestimated.”
“Oh that much is well apparent. Anyone who could kill the King’s bitch shouldn’t be.” Petra laughed with glee at the mere mention of the former Master Rider’s demise. “Leona, felled by a Chimera. Lord Xin can be delightful at times.” His sister straightened, pulling herself from her musings. “You know this woman—”
“Not quite,” he corrected, noting his sister’s tone.
“Then know her better.” Petra smirked. “Tell me, Cvareh, what must I do to earn her trust?”
He was still figuring that out himself. Cvareh stared at the decorative hem of his pants, patterns of leaves woven and cut into the edge. He debated quietly with the fabric until he had a decent answer. There were only two things in the world Cvareh could say with certainty were important to Ari. Two things that would prove someone an ally of the woman who called herself the White Wraith.
“Prove to her you love Loom.”
“I hold no love for that dreary rock.”
He knew it to be true, and instantly felt foolish for phrasing it as he had. “Prove to her, then, that you are aligned with Loom’s interests.”
“I know not what those are and furthermore, I don’t care.”
Cvareh closed his eyes a moment. Petra was a force unto herself, and now he had Ari to grapple with on Nova in addition to her. The idea of praying to Lord Agendi for luck grew more appealing by the minute.
“If you do not care, then assure her Loom will have sovereignty.” Cvareh met his sister’s eyes. “For all you care about the title of Dono, Arianna cares for Loom.”
“If she believes this, she will make the Philosopher’s Box for me? She will hand me my army?”