by Elise Kova
“It’s the only way.”
“There are lots of ways.” Sophie rounded the desk, running her hand along its edge. “You are young, and you see the only solution as outright warfare.”
“What else is there? Your plan to lure the Dragons into some false sense of triumph?”
“That, and many more strategic approaches that wouldn’t result in hundreds, thousands, of Fenthri deaths.”
“The strategic approach hasn’t worked.”
“Neither has outright warfare.” Sophie referred to the quick failure that was Loom’s last war. “Perhaps when you are older, when you have lost more, you will understand this.”
“Do not say I have not lost.” Florence took a step forward, barely stopping herself from outright attacking the woman. “You know nothing of me.”
“I know you are still a girl, quick to ire and stumbling in the pitfalls of pride.” Sophie remained poised. “I know you have yet to see the merit of strategic sacrifice to attain one’s goals.”
“You must go to the Tribunal.”
“You may not tell me what I must do.” The Vicar Alchemist shook her head. “Derek, you will be on the first train back to Ter.1.2 in the morning. You will tell the Vicar Harvester to call off the Tribunal. You will inform him that the Alchemists will not be working with the rest of Loom, and encourage him to call off this ridiculous notion of a demonstration against the Dragons. Denounce all knowledge of a working Philosopher’s Box as the misinformed whims of a child.”
Derek looked between Florence and the Vicar of his guild helplessly. But Florence knew what his decision would be. She knew it as clearly as the two interlocking triangles on his cheek.
“Understood, Vicar.”
“Good.” Sophie returned to her chair, waving them away. “Now, the three of you… get out of my sight.”
Nora stepped away and Derek followed, linking arms with her. Florence hesitated one moment. Venom poured from the glands in her mouth instead of saliva, and the brief, challenging look Sophie gave her was almost enough to made her spit it all out on the woman’s desk.
But Florence made for the door. She would heed Sophie’s words and apply them that very moment. She would make a strategic sacrifice of her pride in the form of a tactical retreat. The Vicar had won the battle, but Florence would not give her victory in the war between them.
47. Petra
Petra clenched the reins of her boco so tightly that she had to consciously remind herself to ease her fingers so she didn’t accidentally snap Raku’s neck. In the span of a day, the world had been given and taken from her. She had been ready to kill Finnyr, she had the box, she had the loyalty of Loom. And now, Finnyr was out of reach, the woman—the only woman—who held the knowledge of the Philosopher’s Box was in Yveun’s hands, and that fact threw the loyalty of Loom into question.
Petra bared her teeth into the wind. She was going to get it all back, and then some. She hadn’t devoted most her life to a dream the world had told her was futile since she was a child to see it taken from her now. She was born to be the Dono of Nova and there was nothing she wouldn’t sacrifice to see that come to pass.
Cvareh rode stiffly at her side. Worry fogged his magic and made the air around him so thick, Petra wondered how he even saw where he was going. He focused ahead, past the late afternoon sun, to Lysip. The islands of Nova floated below them, guiding their track. Eventually, they would deviate and fly around the back of the island, regrouping before launching their plan into action.
The future weighed on Petra’s shoulders. They had one shot. Failure meant House Xin would lose everything.
The watercolors of the sky were turning into strong pastel by the time they landed their bocos behind a far hill on the back end of Lysip. Wildflowers and grasses were their only greeting party. Cvareh dismounted, confused when she did the same.
“Aren’t you—”
“Yes, yes,” she cut him off with a wave. “But I wanted to speak to you first.”
“Every moment we waste is another Ari spends with Yveun.”
“And he will not kill her.” Of that, Petra was certain. “He needs her as much as we do. He needs her knowledge, at the very least, before he could even consider removing her.”
The tall foliage brushed against her hips as she reached for her brother. Her hands wrapped around the back of his head and she placed her forehead against his. Petra closed her eyes, imagining their minds as one. Her little brother, full of so much potential, the tool she had kept at her disposal. Sometimes clumsy, but always out for the best of House Xin.
“Your mind is noisy. You must silence it,” she cautioned. “I know you are worried for this mate you have chosen. But Arianna is strong. Worry no more for her than you would for me.”
“I worry for you plenty.”
Petra pulled away with a smile. “All I want you to worry for now is yourself. Focus on what we’re here to do. I will make sure to create quite a stir. I’ll keep Rok’s attention on me for as long as I reasonably can, but you must make haste while I do.”
“I will.”
“Ends before ideals,” Petra reminded him. “Do what you must for our House, Cvareh.”
“I will,” he repeated.
Satisfied, Petra wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulled him tight for a brief moment, then mounted her boco once more. They had always been playing a dangerous game, but the stakes never let up. They grew with each passing moment, each passing day. Everything had come to a head so quickly that Petra knew every decision they made from here on would govern the future of their House—and perhaps the future of Nova itself.
Cvareh moved forward on foot, and Petra watched him leave.
She waited long after he disappeared over the hill. She gave him time, stiff in her saddle, impatient but forcing herself to remain. They had landed intentionally far from the Rok Estate. It wasn’t a distance he could traverse inconspicuously with any speed.
When the sun hung low in the sky, she took to the air once more. The shifting grasses and swaying, spindly trees below caught the sunlight, shining as if the world itself was aflame. Petra scanned the ground, flying at leisure, satisfied when she finally caught a glimpse of Cvareh. He was near the edge of the estate, entering through the homes where Yveun’s political wards lived. It was an area Petra had made sure he was familiar with by having him visit Finnyr often enough.
How he would find Arianna once inside was up to him. She had more important things to concern herself with. Petra landed in the field designated for guests’ bocos and summoned a face of pure ire. It wasn’t hard given the circumstances.
She stormed for the opening of the Rok Estate, claws out, teeth bared, the very image of an Oji scorned.
“Where is Finnyr Xin?” she barked to the first Rok servant who had the ill fortune of greeting her.
“Xin’Oji, we were not expecting—”
Petra gouged out his throat. It was risky to spill any blood on the Rok estate, but the smell of one of their own bleeding would send every Rider running. It would draw all eyes to her.
Sure enough, the soft clicking of the beads of a Rider neared, rounding the corner as an apple-skinned woman stopped at the far end of the hall. She sheathed her claws the moment her eyes fell on Petra. The Court was too fresh in every Dragon’s mind for any to be inclined to challenge her, any other than Yveun. Especially not over the death of a no-name slave.
“I demand my brother.” She spoke loudly, for all who were gathering. “I demand Finnyr Xin.”
“Finnyr is a ward of Yveun Dono.” Petra mentally commended the Rider for maintaining a strong and level voice in the face of her rage. “The Dono would need to approve Finnyr’s departure.”
“The Dono can keep him.” Petra snorted. “I merely want to kill him.”
“The Dono would need to approve a duel…”
Petra advanced on
the Rider. She could smell the fear in the air around the woman. Her dilated eyes, her barely stable hands. The Rider was ready to fight, but they all knew who would win. It would be a life wasted.
“This is not the Court. This is a House matter. Yes, we are on Lysip, but as I, the Xin’Oji, am demanding a duel with a member of my House, it should fall under my jurisdiction, not the Dono’s.” Petra lorded over the slip of a Dragon. For now, she didn’t actually care if she was given Finnyr. She would kill him someday, and someday soon. But the longer they stalled, the more of an opportunity she had to raise a fuss over the fact and the more time Cvareh had to find Arianna.
“You are quite right.” A new voice stilled the room with its whispering tones.
Petra straightened away from the Rider, looking with curiosity for the source of the sound. A small, frail-looking Dragon had parted the gathering mass of people with her presence alone. Petra had seen the woman before at Courts and a few special functions, but she was as rare as raindrops otherwise. The mere sight of her sent a whole new wave of rage across her skin.
“Coletta’Ryu.” Petra had to think quickly or she’d lose all reason to anger. She didn’t expect the Ryu to greet her. Yveun wasted no time glowering over her at every chance. What did it mean for this woman to be standing in his stead? He was no doubt somewhere delighting at having the butcher of Petra’s people greet her. “Will you see Finnyr fashioned for me?”
“Certainly.” The woman gave a thin-lipped smile, submissive and demure. Petra wondered what the Dono saw in her at all. She was nothing more than a coward. “Please, Xin’Oji, come with me. Lysip is a far ride from Ruana and you must be tired after such tragedy has struck your House.”
Petra’s hands vibrated from the tension her muscles were under as the Rok’Ryu had the boldness to mention her plot against Petra’s home. She wanted to rip the woman limb from limb. But that pursuit of revenge would have to wait. She only had Finnyr’s word to go on, one Yveun would vehemently deny. As the Rok’Oji, his word was law in approving all duels for the members of his House, and he would not see Petra’s claims against Coletta as viable for a duel.
Killing Coletta’Ryu was going to be a much longer game.
“You are too kind.” Petra smiled as wide as she could, her lips curling back, her fangs showing.
“House Rok is quite invested in the future of House Xin. We have been for many years,” Coletta spoke as she led Petra down a long hall. The Riders and half the staff followed them. Petra knew any would say it was to ensure they were waited on hand and foot. But she knew the truth—it was a visual reminder of Rok’s strength. No matter how skilled a fighter Petra was, if she attacked the Rok’Oji, they would show her no quarter. “We would not want to move against your ends.”
Petra responded to lies with lies. “And House Xin is nothing but loyal in no half measures to House Rok for their kindness.”
Coletta smiled falsely in reply. They were both speaking the same language.
“We can wait in here.” Coletta motioned to a lavish parlor that overlooked a private garden. It smelled strongly of the woman and had a lived-in look. Petra bristled at the realization that she’d been led into the asp’s den. “Yeaan, please fetch some appropriate refreshments for the Oji and me. Topann, please see to finding the Oji’s brother. The rest of you, please return to your duties. There is no need to overwhelm the Xin’Oji.”
“Coletta’Ryu, the Riders would like to stand guard,” the woman from earlier insisted.
Petra wracked her mind for how to make sure they did indeed stay. The more people who were around, the fewer could run into Cvareh. But she had no reason to demand an audience.
“I don’t think it necessary. Let us not insult out guest by even implying that she may do something underhanded.” Coletta smiled almost sweetly. “I am perfectly safe with the honorable Xin’Oji.”
Petra wanted to tell her she was anything but. However, there was truth to the words. Petra respected the Dragons’ ways. She would not lower herself to killing a Ryu outside of a pit; she was better than this woman at least in that respect.
“It is the wish of the Rok’Oji,” the Riders insisted.
“Very well, then outside with you so we may relax.”
That seemed to satisfy their wishes, and the Riders assumed their places on the other side of the door. Petra listened closely after it closed for footsteps walking away, but heard none. So her presence tied up the Rok’Ryu and the Riders. It was something, at the very least.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Coletta’Ryu.”
“It’s just us, Petra’Oji, you don’t need to pretend any longer.” The woman tilted her head to the side in amusement. Something about her demeanor shifted. It was like a cat had grown into a lion in mere moments. Where there had been something unassuming before, now stood a menace.
This was the woman who had killed her House in cold-blooded shadows.
“I’m afraid I do not know of what you speak.”
One of Coletta’s servants, Yeaan, returned with a tray. She crossed silently to the center of the room, laying out a small assortment of fruits and cheese with two wine glasses. One vessel was set out for Coletta, the other placed on Petra’s side of the table.
Petra stared at the offending liquid. The woman before her was a monster. Putting in front of her the means she had used to kill her people like a trophy. Petra’s nose scrunched at the scent of the wine.
“What is this?” Petra motioned to the glasses, unable to keep the comment to herself.
“Wine from Ruana. I wanted to make you feel at home.”
Was this woman so bold that she would really kill an Oji behind closed doors? Petra approached the unassuming vessels as though they could fly off the table and strike at any moment.
“It is quite safe, I assure you. A different vintage than what was consumed at Court.”
“A strange happening, that,” Petra said quietly. “How all of the wine, from different vineyards, different wineries, was so deadly.”
“Truly an inexplicable tragedy.”
“One could explain it as poison.”
Coletta turned, the fading light of day catching the red of her eyes and making them glow ominously as she assessed Petra. She smiled again. This time, the edge of a canine crept from behind her lips. “You speak of dangerous things, Petra’Oji.”
“I believe I stand before a very dangerous woman.” It was a dance of words, neither wanting to cross the line into overt threats.
“I am the Rok’Ryu.” Coletta hummed quietly, walking to the edge of the table. “And Petra, I have been watching you for some time.”
Petra bristled at the lack of title attached to her name. That was something, almost enough of something, to challenge the woman on. But still, they had no witnesses to the offense and plenty of people who would lie and object, and stand for the Ryu. As much as she desired it, Petra reminded herself that she would not be killing the Rok’Ryu this night.
“You’re a dangerous woman, too. You seek out what you want, you pursue it with a reckless passion. You are relentless.” The Ryu took both glasses in her hands, inspecting them carefully. Petra never let them leave her sight. Coletta poured the wine from one glass into the other, filling it to the brim. She repeated this a few times, back and forth. Mixing them completely. “All of Nova knows you seek Yveun’s throne. Why haven’t you taken it yet?”
Coletta held out one glass. Petra regarded it hesitantly before accepting. But she did not drink. She would not drink before the Ryu did; she knew better.
“I am not in a position to.” It was the most honest thing Petra had said to a Rok in a long time.
“No, you’re not,” Coletta agreed. “At least not honorably, not by Dragon law.”
“And I would never be recognized as the Dono, if it was not done through Dragon law.” Petra followed Coletta over to the
wide window that overlooked an expanse of foliage. It was the only visible window down into the garden.
Petra wondered if this was the place where the poison that killed her House had come from. None of the plants were familiar to her. She couldn’t even guess where half of them grew originally.
“I sat quietly, for many years, watching Yveun do as he would,” Coletta spoke to no one in particular. “But you changed things, Petra. And left me with no choice but to join the fray.”
Petra watched as the Ryu raised the glass to her lips and took a long drink. She waited several breaths, and nothing happened.
“I am beginning to believe that I have more reason to fear you than the Dono.”
“Then you are as smart as you seem.” Coletta turned to Petra. “I will give you one chance, Petra. Leave now, and remain the Xin’Oji. Give up on your dream to become the Dono, swear true fealty, and I will let House Xin remain as it has always been.”
The very notion was ridiculous, and Petra made sure Coletta was aware of the fact with her unrestrained laugher. “You cannot threaten me or my House, Coletta.”
The woman’s eye twitched at the lack of title.
“And I will never bargain with House Rok. Not when I hold the cards.”
Coletta huffed softly in amusement, raising her glass in the light of the orange sunset. “Then, to war.”
“To war.” Petra clinked her glass against Coletta’s, and finally drank alongside the Ryu.
A side door opened and Topann reappeared, Finnyr in tow. Petra snarled, setting down her glass heavily on the table the moment she saw her brother. “I declare now a duel, before the Rok’Ryu, for your life, Finnyr.”
“Under what claims?” Coletta asked, per the script.
“Actions against his House.” Killing Finnyr was going to be a fringe benefit of the night. Petra’s claws shot from her fingers.
“I approve this duel.”
Finnyr tried to make for the door the second the Ryu spoke the words. Topann closed and stood before it, preventing him from leaving.
