The Rebels of Gold (Loom Saga #3)(10)
Still, she drank from the mortar like a babe to a tit. There was delight in the hurt that came from allowing her body to be brutalized by a concoction of her own creation. She charged toward the threshold where pain became pleasure, and nimbly leapt over the edge. Death transformed to triumph.
She killed herself time and again to feel her body reborn, to emerge stronger with each draught.
Coletta lowered the bowl, the sticky residue of the poison weeping down its sides in faintly umber-colored rivulets. Another day, another draught, and death yet avoided. There would soon be no poison, no concoction or illness that could fell her.
She pulled a sheer, silken shawl back over her shoulders from where it had slipped down her back. The last of the poison was finishing coursing through her system, and Coletta decided a walk would keep her joints moving through the final shivering aftershocks. She stepped away from her sheltered outdoor laboratory, and into the gardens proper.
Flora and fauna encroached on the narrow, ruby-tiled walking path. Flowers uncurled their petals in a vibrant rainbow of color. There were thorny vines that had the most delicate of buds, long stalks that drooped with too-heavy blossoms, and spindly wide-leafed trees that clung to each other like happy drunks.
Two large, mostly harmless, trees sheltered the garden from prying eyes that might glide past on the back of a boco. Yveun’s cautiousness had led her to plant the giants of her little kingdom, his concern that her “hobby” be discovered by someone undesirable was both charming and unnecessary. Dragons never saw plants as anything more than ornamentation.
It was a battle easier conceded to her mate than fought. She would kill any who learned the truth of her garden before they could utter it to another soul. And if she was honest, she liked the shade the trees gave, even if it made the garden a touch cooler in the ever-encroaching winter.
“Coletta’Ryu.” A woman emerged from around the bend of the path. Ulia. She kneeled, head bowed.
“He has returned?”
“He has, my queen.”
Around the woman’s neck was a pendant—a small white flower, lacquered. Her mate had his collars of gold, tempered only to his magic, nooses at his command. Coletta’s markers were far subtler, yet known well enough, and just as effective.
“This flower . . .” Coletta shifted her fingers, reaching up to touch the delicate petals of a flower identical to the one Ulia wore. “Do you know what it is?”
“A snow bud.”
“Indeed. An unassuming name, isn’t it?”
“It is.” There were times, brief times, when Coletta wondered if the little buds that did her bidding actually agreed with her unique approach to conflict. But the second she exhausted mental capacity on such musings, she remembered that she didn’t care. Obedience earned in fear was no different than that engendered through love, honesty, or deceit.
“Do you remember what it does?”
Ulia’s eyes fell on the living version of her pendant, still cradled in Coletta’s long fingers. She was young for a flower—just thirty-nine—but Ulia had proved her loyalty in a very short time.
“Paralysis,” Ulia said finally.
“Yes, but only the stigma.” Coletta touched her fingertip to the red knob that extended out from the center of the flower. “The petals actually provide the antidote to this natural immobilizer. Most don’t even realize these properties exist, since consuming or brewing the flower neutralizes the negative effect.” She dropped her hand and stepped over to the kneeling girl. Coletta reached out the same hand, guiding Ulia’s face upward to meet her eyes. “Remember that, Ulia. One thing can both give and take away.”
“Should I fall from your favor, it would be an honor too great for a wretch like me to die by a potion crafted by your hand, Coletta’Ryu.”
The corners of her mouth twitched upward in the nearest imitation of a smile Coletta would ever give. “Yes, sweet Ulia, you will never betray me.”
“Never.” Ulia slowly, reverently, and with the slightest scent of fear in her magic, brought Coletta’s hand to her mouth, kissing her knuckles once.
“Now.” Coletta pulled her hand away, her dominance reaffirmed. “Take me to dress for dinner.”
“My queen, Yveun’Dono is . . . occupied.”
“I realize.” The girl was young enough to underestimate her. It was endearing, to a point. “I would care to look on him before he is finished.”
“As you wish.” Ulia stood and bowed her head as Coletta strode past. She waited three breaths before falling into step behind.
There were two entrances to Coletta’s garden—one to her private quarters and one to Yveun’s. She rarely had reason to cross through the latter. Barring dinner, her mate usually came to her.
Her own portion of the Rok Estate was smaller but no less opulent than the rest. Red lacquered beams cut across a pitch-black ceiling, every fourth beam framed by two posts on the whitewashed walls. It was simple, striking, and reminiscent of all her favorite poisonous flora.
At the end of the hallway stood her primary sitting room. Hexagonal in shape, every wall had a door, perfectly centered and mosaicked in ruby. The door directly across from the hall was her bedroom; spiraling right around the room were the portals to her bathing room, second laboratory, library, and dressing room. Of these, the little buds that served as her personal handmaidens were only given permission to enter the last.