The Rebels of Gold (Loom Saga #3)(89)
As much as Tam flaunted their island’s perpetual jewel tones as some kind of superiority, Coletta found the world in stasis several times more stunning than the lushest of gardens—with the exception of her own garden, of course.
It was a day for thinking of Tam, as she’d greeted the viridian house just hours ago. She played the part of the Rok’Ryu they expected—a mysterious woman whose presence often heralded death, but it couldn’t be of her own doing, for she was much too frail for that. She didn’t have the spine to kill someone; she didn’t have a spine at all. Or so Coletta imagined them whispering.
The entourage would take the rumors back to a hungry Gwaeru, where the nobility would eat them up like dogs fighting over the juiciest scrap to bring some satiation to their meaningless lives. House Tam represented balance, “all things equal,” as their motto stated. But balance, Coletta found, was a close sibling to complacency, and complacency was the lover of sloth.
While the Dragon in her thought it was always a shame to see her race reduced to something that glorified excess, Tam’s taste for finer things and the time to enjoy them suited her. It made the house easy to control, and fairly simple to work with. If there was one thing that didn’t suit the comfort of luxury, it was the chaos of rebellion.
The woman walking next to her was one of the few Coletta did not expect to deceive. From the first moment Doriv Tam’Ryu To arrived at the Rok Estate, she saw Coletta as a force to be reckoned with. Coletta saw much the same in her fern-colored counterpart. They each knew who was really in charge at the respective households. So, while the majority of the attendants and upper nobility of both houses sat in on a meeting with Yveun’Oji and Cashi’Oji, the real decisions were being made by the two women who strolled the estate with only a few handpicked attendants many steps behind.
“Lysip in the winter is stunning. The way the sun shines on the browning grasses that adorn your hillsides makes the whole of the island look as though it has been dipped in gold.” Doriv’Ryu made no effort to further disguise the remark on their dead foliage as a compliment.
“Gwaeru is equally stunning this time of year. All of your large flowering trees endlessly dumping their petals is quite the spectacle to behold—or so I hear.” Coletta responded in kind.
“I didn’t know you thought of Gwaeru with such fondness, Rok’Ryu.” Doriv’Ryu adjusted the chiming earrings that pulled needle-eye holes into the lobes of her long ears. “Perhaps we’ll conduct one of our future meetings on my homeland. Rather than dragging the entirety of House Tam’s nobility across the sky.”
“Ah, I know how so many speak with fondness of the opportunity to come and try Lysip beef and see the Rok Estate. I’d hate to deny them the opportunity.”
“You are a truly charitable woman. I don’t know how you give so much away to others while still having enough for yourself, such that you can create the flamboyant lodgings where you house guests.” Doriv motioned to the gilding on the columns that supported the roof covering the walkway, which wound through the wild outer fields they roamed.
“It is important to make sure we both take care of our people, while continuing to display Rok’s might.”
“Indeed . . .” Doriv stopped and half-turned, looking out over the sea of slowly dying greenery between carefully placed statues. Coletta stopped as well, angling her body to mimic the other Ryu.
Neither of them cared about the flowers, or the grasses, or the sun, or the end of the boco mating season, or any of the other pointless topics they had spent the morning discussing. They cared about one thing alone: how close they were to any other living, sentient creature who was not one of their most loyal vassals.
“You like this spot,” Coletta observed. “You usually stop here.”
“This scuff here—” Doriv answered, running her fingers over an unassuming etching on the column beside her. “—marks the point at which our conversation officially becomes private.”
“Indeed.” Coletta smiled. She enjoyed the reaction her scarred, gray gums and knobby teeth evoked in other Dragons. It was its own type of terror. “This was a meeting you called. What is so important that you needed to speak with me in person?”
“The wine turned sour at the Crimson Court . . .” Doriv began walking again. “An odd affair, that . . . I don’t believe there has ever been a case of deadly mold on wine casks before.”
“An odd affair, indeed. Perhaps it was Lord Xin requesting a tithing of his people.”
“I certainly hope so.” Doriv’s hand was back to playing with her earring. “I’ve heard whispers of some nefarious designs.”
“Have you?” Coletta asked earnestly. It was imperative that, at any given time, she knew what the world knew about her. The moment the masses actually saw her as a threat was the moment she lost the vast majority of her effectiveness. Yveun was the visible menace, she the invisible hand holding the dagger from the flanks.
“Only rumors, nothing more, and nothing worth heeding past the gossip parlor doors.” The answer wasn’t satisfying for Coletta, but she saw no avenue to pursue the matter. Furthermore, she had to trust her alliance with Doriv; if there was something to consider alarming, the woman would tell her. Doriv immediately proved Coletta right. “However, if they are true . . . It would be a grave offense. Ending a Crimson Court before the majority of grievances could be heard would be the least of it, really. To slay Dragons outside of proper duels or cause death on such a mass scale . . . the idea is unprecedented.”