The Rebels of Gold (Loom Saga #3)(26)

“Thank you, Cvareh.”

It was a testament to House Xin’s steadfastness that an audible, collective gasp didn’t rise like a wind at Finnyr’s disrespect. To speak Cvareh’s name without a suffix . . . to rob him of the title that had been there for so long . . . Cvareh hardly knew what his name sounded like without it.

Cvareh’s hate for his brother worsened by the moment.

Cvareh gave a small bow of his head, forcing the interaction to continue. There was nothing he could do, for now, and he wanted it over with.

The people began to shift. There was a whisper, too quiet to discern clearly. Cvareh felt the weight of his family’s eyes on him again. Cain wordlessly heaped expectations on him like shrouds of lead.

Cvareh knew what they wanted, especially now that a whiff of a potential slight was in the air.

Finnyr began to walk forward; Cvareh and Cain both parted to allow him to pass. The woman remained glued at his side, always within half a step of Finnyr. Up close, Cvareh could feel her magic. And he could see her eyes—a beautiful, and unnervingly familiar, shade of lilac.

“Are you going to let him go?” Cain finally snapped. His words were hushed and hurried, but anger distorted volume.

“What’s this?” The woman turned. “Is this a challenge I hear?”

Cain balled and uncurled his fingers. Cvareh knew the motion his friend made when trying to fight against unsheathing his claws.

“Not a challenge.” Cvareh stepped between Cain and the woman. “Cain’Da is merely curious when Finnyr and I will find time to regroup on the current status of the house and affairs of Xin.”

“I see . . .” The woman smiled, wide enough for her fangs to be a challenge in their own right. Her eyes were indeed familiar. Not just in color, shape, and shade . . . but in the level of bloodthirsty ruthlessness he had also seen in Arianna’s gaze. It was a lust for revenge he was starting to understand too well. “So good to have one so loyal to your house.”

“We are lucky.” Cvareh held his position. He didn’t want to get into a brawl here—not with two Riders on the ground, with this mysterious woman, with Finnyr being a worthless coward the house could tear limb from limb, and especially not with a Dragon King only a half-day’s ride away, who was no doubt itching to unleash his full power and lay waste to House Xin.

“Speaking of great loyalty . . .” The woman looked around at those assembled. “The Dragon King has sent me to stay with Finnyr during his transition as Oji. I am Master Rider Fae Rok’Da To, and I will ensure that there is no conduct unbecoming toward those who are, no doubt, loyal to his supreme rule throughout this trying time.”

“We are to be babysat by—”

“Cain, enough.” Cvareh hated himself. He hated that the moment his claws were unsheathed, it was to direct them at his friend, the most loyal among them to their name.

But his hand drawn back, claws shining faintly in the sunlight, had the right effect. Cain was stunned into silence. He turned to Cvareh in a rage that was quickly quelled.

Cvareh poured it all into his face now that he was turned away from Finnyr and the woman, and the other two Riders were on the far end of the platform, already mid-departure.

They were all angry. Every member of House Xin was angry and bearing the uncomfortable badge of mourning. But he would not have them act in foolishness that would get them killed.

“Forgive me, Cvareh’Ryu.” Cain lowered his eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be seeking my forgiveness?” Fae’s voice sent shivers up Cvareh’s spine. “After all, I stand for Yveun’Dono here.”

Cain was silent. Cvareh implored him without words. He didn’t want blood on these stones, not Cain’s.

“I look forward to the honor of having one whom our Dono holds in such high esteem among us,” Cain bit out.

The woman knew he was insincere just by her smile. That much was apparent. But she accepted the platitude and returned to Finnyr’s side.

With the tension slightly allayed, for now at least, the other Riders took to the skies, no doubt to report back to Yveun at the first possible moment.

None of the other members of House Xin moved. Once again, they all looked to Cvareh for answers he didn’t yet have. The home he so loved was quickly devolving into a battleground.

Cvareh started in first.

A familiar set of footsteps fell in close behind.

Cain followed him all the way back to his room, stalking like some predator. Cvareh kept his hands in plain sight, relaxed, claws sheathed. He hadn’t spent so much effort on the receiving platform just to flay Cain in private.

Cvareh started for his dresser first thing. He needed new clothes. These were now soiled with the memory of calling Finnyr “Oji.” He looked at the heap of fabric on the floor. He would need to get a new tailor on retainer if he was forced to discard clothing just because he used “Oji” in relation to his brother.

“What was that?” Cain finally spoke from where he leaned against the door.

“I don’t know yet,” Cvareh admitted quietly. He was still trying to figure out all the moving parts at play, and felt blind with no ears or eyes on Rok.

“You just let him come in here—”

“Cain—”

“—don her title and—”

“It was not her title!” Cvareh roared in frustration. “We are Dragons, Cain. We live. We fight. We die. All by each other’s hands. Petra knew that, and she loved it. Eventually, someone was going to kill her. She knew that.” It was why she prayed every day to Lord Xin, Cvareh realized in that instant. “And her death will mean nothing if we throw away our lives and House Xin by challenging my brother.”