The Dragons of Nova (Loom Saga Book 2)

by Elise Kova

“Y-you, the Dono still needs me,” Finnyr pleaded with Coletta. “You can’t let me die like this. He would not allow it!”

  “Look at you, Finnyr, pleading to a Rok for your life.” Petra spat at his feet. “You pathetic little coward.”

  Petra pulled back her hand. She was done dealing with her brother. She would go right for his heart and end it once and for all.

  A chill swept through her, swift and sudden. It shot up her spine and into her stomach, pouring forward as blood from her mouth. Her knees knocked and her lungs burned.

  Petra shuddered, and fell.

  No. The word seared her mind. Coletta entered her blurring field of vision, looming over her like the Lord of Death himself.

  “H-how?” Petra stuttered. Nothing made sense. “I-I am an Oji.”

  “You think a title will protect you, Petra,” Coletta spoke down to her. “That has been your greatest flaw. You put so much stock into titles and rank that you forget what gives them power—fear.”

  The woman squatted next to her, narrowly avoiding the blood Petra was spitting up as she gasped for air.

  “You failed your House. You, who should believe in whatever means necessary to achieve your ends, never even thought that I would kill you here.”

  “You drank from the same glass.” Petra tried to defend herself in what she knew were her final moments.

  “And you know nothing of poison.” Coletta smiled, wide and open-mouthed. Her teeth were dull and small, eaten away beyond her young years. Her gums were worn and gray, curling and tired. Her breath smelled of death. “But I do. I know of poisons well. My body, too; it is strong with them, invulnerable to them. I also know that you do not have magic in your stomach.”

  “F-F-Finnyr,” Petra growled up at her brother. She wished she had the strength to stand, just enough to kill him. If she was going to die, she would take one of them with her to the halls of Lord Xin.

  But she didn’t have the strength.

  Her body was in revolt. Her magic surged but couldn’t keep up with everything failing at once. If anything, the effort to heal resulted in her organs wearing out from magic depletion. She could feel herself turning septic, growing rotten with each passing moment.

  “You should have taken my deal, Petra.” Coletta stroked her hair like a child. “It’s a shame to lose a woman on Nova as strong as you.” The Rok’Ryu stood with a sigh, as though the matter actually did cause her strife. “Finnyr.”

  Petra rasped with laughter. Between the blood and death’s heavy veil she could still see her brother tripping over his own two feet to get to her. Even when he was handed carved meat on a platter, he couldn’t find the knife to spear it. Her mouth curled in an expression that was part snarl, part grimace.

  “Y-You will ne-neh-never stand as O-Oji,” Petra forced from between chattering teeth.

  “It was mine all along.” Finnyr knelt beside her. His hand wavered.

  “Cvareh w-w-will kill you.” Petra bubbled up laughter through the blood in her throat. “You were never meant to stand as the ruler of House Xin. You—”

  His hand plunged into her chest. She felt her brother’s fingers close around her heart. Petra closed her eyes; death was upon her, and there was no point in fighting it any longer. She would watch her House for the rest of time from the halls of Lord Xin. She would watch, gleefully, as Cvareh finished what she started decades ago with Finnyr.

  She would see her younger brother kill the elder, a task she should’ve done years ago.

  Petra Xin’Oji To’s last discovery in life was the sensation of what it felt like to have her heart ripped out. The act she had done to many was finally performed upon her. With her final breath, she embraced the veil of the god she so loved.

  48. Cvareh

  Petra was counting on him. Arianna was counting on him—even if she didn’t know it. The future of House Xin was counting on him.

  It was the same sort of weight he felt the last time he had crept through the Rok Estate for the schematics. Now he felt it in triplicate, looking for the woman who created those same drawings. There was a twisted and cruel sort of parallel drawn between them that had started long before they’d ever met.

  Cvareh knew the moment Petra had arrived, since every man and woman who had been milling about the halls quickly sprinted off with eager whispers. His sister was always cause for attention, and the Xin’Oji calling for the blood of one of her kin was added fuel to that particular fire. Cvareh just hoped she kept her word from back on Ruana that she would not actually kill Finnyr.

  He had promised that honor to Arianna and, after all Cvareh had come to know and realize, she well and truly deserved his brother’s blood.

  In the fading sunlight, the Rok Estate was undeniable in its glamour and overpowering in its lavishness. Rooms of grandiose proportions dwarfed him, glittering with gold and gemstone. He used the scale to his advantage, keeping his head down and the scarf of the drab, humble clothes he wore high around his face. Peeking out just above the fabric was the symbol of House Rok. He’d inked it shortly after sneaking into the estate, using an idea he borrowed from Arianna.

  He wasn’t known on sight here. Petra had kept him from many a Court and function across the years, making his appearance only vaguely familiar to any not of Ruana. Once more, Petra’s foresight served them well when another head-bowed servant crossed paths with him and paid him little more than a glance at his cheek.

  Cvareh knew his general headway to the holding pens of the Rok Estate. Most Houses had something of the variety for containing Dragons awaiting a duel—or for when the Oji couldn’t decide if a duel was even merited at all. It was where he should’ve taken Finnyr, rather than putting him anywhere remotely close to Arianna. Usually, the pens remained empty; Cvareh had yet to meet an Oji would couldn’t make a split-second decision on such matters.

  He heard the shifting of beads from around the corner and stopped his progress, listening carefully to the movement. Without doubt, a Rider was stationed at the door. If he needed any further proof that Arianna was likely being held in one of the rooms in the hall beyond, that was it. They wouldn’t exhaust a Rider on something so trivial, otherwise.

  Cvareh leaned against the wall, stilling his breathing, trying to slow the very beating of his heart so he had time to figure out a solution to his predicament. Did he try to draw the Rider away and then circle back to the door? If he attacked, the scent of blood would draw others. He pressed his eyes closed and uttered a quick prayer to Lord Agendi and Lord Xin. He asked the first to cast his gaze on this endeavor, and the second to do the opposite.

  Cvareh rounded the corner.

  The Dragon looked up from inspecting her claws. The woman had only two beads and Cvareh didn’t instantly recognize her. If she wasn’t at the Court, she might not know his face either. Cvareh adjusted his wide scarf and hoped the mark he drew on his cheek was clear enough and hadn’t smudged.

  “What do you want?” the woman sneered at the very sight of him. But she didn’t attack.

  “Your presence is requested upstairs.” Cvareh kept his voice level and his eyes lowered. He hated taking his sight off the woman, who could decide to lunge at any second, but he had no choice. The more suspicion he raised by acting out of character, the lower his chances of getting inside. “To deal with the Xin’Oji.”

  “The Xin’Oji is here?” The woman sighed heavily. “What trouble is the blue devil trying to make now?”

  Cvareh kept his mouth shut. It served his image, and if he didn’t, he might have spit out a hasty defense of Petra. He’d learned the hard way to keep his mouth shut in a train station on Loom in a confrontation that now seemed an eternity ago. It was a mistake he wouldn’t now repeat.

  “You sure you don’t want to go back to her and beg for your place in House Xin? They may invite you to their tea parties and wine tastings if you do.”

 
“My loyalty is, and always will be, to House Rok.” Cvareh forced his mouth to make the words when his heart revolted at their very thought.

  “Good boy.” She patted his head. “Make sure no one goes in. If you do, I’ll rip the muscle from your bones.”

  “Yes.” He assumed his place against the door.

  The woman started down the hall. Cvareh’s heart raced. As soon as she was out of sight, he was going to find Arianna. He was going to get them out of there. He kept his eyes focused on the Rider’s feet.

  “Oh, what did you say your name was, Xin traitor?”

  Cvareh looked up on instinct, anger flashing hot at the mere mention. Their eyes met and she tilted her head to the side, staring at him with more intent at the spark of resistance. Cvareh quickly lowered his face.

  “My name…” he hadn’t thought of a name. “Rafansi.” Cvareh cringed instantly at the first thing that came to mind.

  “Rafansi?” She started back toward him with a snort of disbelief that echoed Cvareh’s reaction when he’d first heard the name. “Look at me, Rafansi.”

  Cvareh had no choice but to oblige. The illusion was melting around him and he’d only add heat to the flame if he resisted. If he was careful, he might be able to save the situation.

  The woman stopped. “What kind of a name is that?”

  “Any wonder I tried to get away from my parents on Ruana?” he tried to jest.

  “Say, Rafansi, were you at the Crimson Court?” She leaned forward.

  Cvareh shook his head, amazed he could while under the tension of his muscles.

  “Shame. You could’ve watched the pampered prince of Xin cowering behind an Anh to do his fighting for him.” The woman stepped away, shrugging. “I wonder if he could even stand up in a fight.”

  “Better than any Rok could.” The words flew from his mouth like caged birds escaping at the first opportunity.

  The woman froze. “I thought you looked familiar,” she snarled.

  Twenty gods above, I didn’t learn anything on Loom. Cvareh chastised himself as he watched her muscles tense from her knees to her lower back.

  Cvareh lunged to the side, expecting the twisting strike. His claws unsheathed, he pressed forward and up into the armpit of the Rider.

  “Xin coward,” she snarled, pushing him away, raking her claws along his arms in the process.

  Blood spilled to the floor, a warning call to any Dragons in the proximity. Cvareh cursed aloud. There was no time, no point in subversion now. He was going to fight his way out alone.

  The Rider lunged for him and Cvareh side stepped. He countered; she thrust right for his chest. Cvareh twisted out of the way of her wicked sharp claws. The Rider wasn’t half as fast as Arianna, Cvareh realized in delight. He had been training for weeks with a creature far more deadly than some two-bead.

  They came together, twisting, snarling, spinning, and splitting apart once more. Cvareh stumbled, falling to his hands, his feet wide in a crouch. He pushed back then lunged forward, wrapping his arms around the woman’s waist. She slammed into the door and it swung open, the lock broken.

  They tumbled into a narrow hall lined on one side with doors. Cvareh pinned her to the floor and sunk his teeth into the soft flesh of her neck. Blood and magic exploded into him. But it was a sour taste, fuel for what he needed to do and nothing more. There was only one woman whose blood could make him hunger, could make him lust.

  His hand sunk into the Rider’s heart, ripping it from her ribcage with brute force. Cvareh tossed it aside with a dull splat, uninterested in eating it. His mouth was already filled with the unwelcome tang of the foreign woman.

  Motion from one of the rooms sounded like rainbows and fireflies and the brightest of magics against his ears, against his body. It sparked life into the dim corridor. Cvareh sprinted for the last door on the left, swinging it open. The smell of his mate assaulted his senses and Arianna looked up at him like some deadly, caged predator.

  “Ari…” he breathed in relief.

  Her lip curled in disgust at the mere sight of him. “You will let me out of these chains so I can properly kill you.”

  “I can explain but—”

  “He was your brother!” She lunged. She must have known full well the range of the chains, but she did it anyway. She was jolted to a stop, just short of where he stood inside the door. She chomped and foamed at him in rage, a rabid wolf at the end of its leash. “He was your brother!”

  “I know.” That only served to make her angrier. “But I didn’t know then. I didn’t figure it out.”

  “You idiot, he was your brother!” The woman he admired for the equal ferocity of her mind and body was reduced to animalistic rage, functioning only on instinct. And those instincts now told her to tear him apart. Lord Xin give him strength, because if what she needed to be made whole was his heart, he would tear the organ from his body himself and serve it to her on the finest silver platter. “You didn’t tell me. He was your brother. You supported him. You—”

  “You didn’t tell me!” Cvareh snapped back angrily. “Surely you knew when I brought you the hands, but you said nothing. Did you not think I would help you? Could you not trust me? I offered you everything!”

  “He was your brother!”

  “And I want to see you kill him.”

  Arianna stopped all movement, stunned.

  “I want to see him die by your hands, Arianna.”

  He placed his hands on either side of her face and crossed the line of safety into her reach. He pressed his mouth against hers. She stilled all movement for a long moment. He felt the warmth of her breath on his cheek, the heaving of her chest on him. It was life and everything good in the world. Finnyr would be a worthy sacrifice for this woman’s pleasure.

  Her head twisted and she tore off his bottom lip with her blunt teeth.

  Cvareh reeled backward, holding his bleeding face. Arianna spit his flesh at him. Anger still consumed every inch of her. But she was no longer raging.

  Twenty gods above, this woman was the only creature he’d ever met for whom tearing off his flesh was a step in the right direction toward the return of stability and sanity.

  “You think now is a good time to be kissing me? Bloody cogs, your incompetence is only rivaled by your idiocies.” Arianna shook her head at him, standing strong on her feet. “Now, free me so I can kill you properly after we escape.”

  He should’ve left her there. Had anyone else spoken to him that way, they would’ve been promptly killed and forgotten, especially given her prone state. But Cvareh found himself inspecting the locks at her wrists.

  “I don’t have the key.”

  “You don’t have the key?” She sighed heavily. “You really are useless for this whole rescuing thing.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “I know, you didn’t think. Hardly a surprise.” She was a vicious sort at the moment. But he’d take verbal lashings over physical ones. It was its own kind of progress. “I need gold, untempered gold. They took my harness and tools.”

  All the ornate trimmings of the Rok Estate came to mind instantly. “A moment.”

  Cvareh sprinted out to one of the earlier rooms. For now, it seemed the bloodshed was far enough away from other Dragons that it had yet to attract attention, but he was certain their luck would run out. Lord Agendi only had so much good spirit for him, and he kept cashing in prayers daily.

  Using his claws, he ripped out a chunk of the ornate gilding, bringing it back down to her. “Will this do?”

  “Well enough,” she admitted, begrudgingly awarding praise. Arianna focused on the gold and her magic filled the air.

  Cvareh watched as it lifted itself from the wood, isolating the strip of metal. She took a deep breath, and the sliver turned hot. Arianna didn’t even wince as she burned her fingers to blistering on the molten metal, shaping i
t into a fine and slightly curved point. Her fingers had healed by the time she tested the pick in the lock, only to be burned as she adjusted the shape a second time, and a third, until there was a soft click, and the shackles fell away one by one.

  “Now we need to—”

  She lunged for him. They fell to the floor and Arianna had him pinned in a mere breath. One hand was at his throat, claws pressing into his neck, drawing blood. The other hand was drawn back, ready to attack his chest.

  Cvareh didn’t struggle. He submitted beneath her, gave her the control she so clearly craved. If she needed to physically see his heart to know it didn’t beat against her, he had already decided to permit it.

  “Tell me why I don’t kill you.”

  He stared at her, his tortured lover. Her soul had belonged to another. Eva had broken it into pieces with her death. It was not meant for his hands to fix.

  “Tell me!” Arianna screamed. “Give me a reason, Cvareh. Tell me why I don’t kill you!” Her hand quivered like a shackle was still attached, holding it back from diving into his chest.

  They were running out of time, especially if she kept drawing attention with noise and blood. “Because I love you.”

  Arianna’s face twisted as the invisible soldiers who fought wars in the dark battlefields of her mind plunged their claws into her all at once. “That’s not good enough.”

  “Because I love you, and because you love me in return.”

  Her eyes shot wide open. “I do not.”

  “Why didn’t you kill me then, on the airship? Why not after? Why not on Nova, when I avoided you because I could no longer stand being in the same room as you without touching your skin? Why not when I brought you my brother’s hands? Why not a moment ago? Why not now? Why?” He needed to hear it as much as she needed to say it. They’d been dancing around it for so long, a waltz on the deck of a swan-diving airship.

  “Because... because I want my boon.”

  “Then why haven’t you spent this precious boon?” he pressed. She was too logical for this.

  “Because I don’t know what I want.”