“You want to spar with me?”
“I can always twist Cain’s arm into it,” she said, as lightly as if the proud Dragon had already agreed to the matter.
Cvareh placed his hands on her hips. They were wide with strong bones underneath the muscle and flesh. He pushed her away just enough to stand. Face to face, a breath apart, he kept her in his grip far longer than what was necessary, just to feel her pulse under his fingers.
She didn’t step away; she let him hold her there. That fact he was somehow keenly aware of, despite having no reason to know it. He nor anyone else would ever touch her, hold her, keep her, unless she willed it so.
“We begin at sundown every day.” Cvareh fought the urge to pull her the rest of the way to him. To press her so tightly against his body that they no longer knew where one of them ended and the other began.
“It’s sundown now, Cvareh’Ryu,” she observed quietly.
“I suppose it is.” Though he had long been admiring the way the sunset lit her white hair afire. “Are you ready?”
“Am I ever not?” She gave him what Cvareh would dare call a coy grin.
It was a question he delighted in not being able to refute.
23.Petra
Petra ran her claws along the unfinished banister that led down from her personal roost in the Xin Manor. Let it never be said that she didn’t make sacrifices on behalf of her House. She had reallocated all hands and tradesmen from finishing different parts of the manor for the sake of building an amphitheater for the Crimson Court.
It had been a couple hundred years since the last Court had been held on Ruana, long ago when House Xin was still in power and the gathering was known as the Cobalt Court. A crumbling reminder of the long-ago glory days of House Xin, the amphitheater had suffered from disuse. No Xin wanted to lay eyes on it, like a shameful scar that would never stop weeping blood.
Petra was determined to see the place resurrected not just to its former glory, but even better than before. The laborers would work non-stop until the Court to complete her grand designs. But they would make the usual venue for the Crimson Court on Lysip look humble in comparison. She wanted retractable sunshades over the stadium seating. Cushions, special just for this Court, made for every seat. Running water, box seats, food and wine service throughout—nothing would be spared.
If Yveun was going to hand them the Court, she would show everyone why they deserved it.
“How does the construction proceed?” Cain waited for her at the bottom of the stairs.
“Slower than I would like.” As was usually the case. “But well enough. The foreman assures me that we will have it completed in time.” There were only two weeks left before the Court would begin.
“Gathering offenses on House Rok has proved no real difficulty.”
She snorted, as if it would have.
“Any word from Finnyr on the matter?”
“He’s handed me some good bits of information. I have those who can make the claims already working on ways for them to ‘uncover’ these offenses on their own.” Petra trusted Cain. She trusted him as much as she trusted any other man—the length of her arms and the depth of her claws. But he’d proved a loyal leader within House Xin and a faithful friend to Cvareh. For those two things, she found herself able to appreciate his brisk mannerisms and focused nature.
“Finnyr has proved useful.”
“By some miracle,” she agreed reluctantly. By far the most helpful information she’d ever worked out of Finnyr was the knowledge of the Philosopher’s Box schematics. Petra had heard about the box from the snippets of details she’d managed to attain from the last rebellion. But it wasn’t until one night when Finnyr was well in his cups that he boasted he’d seen such plans with his own eyes.
After that, it was simply a matter of more wine, sending Cvareh to visit his brother more often, and patience. Thoughts of Cvareh shifted her attention.
“How do my brother and the Chimera fare?” Petra hadn’t been terribly surprised when Cain had informed her Cvareh had elected to work with Arianna over him. The woman had a certainappealfor Cvareh that Cain did not. And Petra was inclined to allow Cvareh his desires, so long as he was still ready for the Court when the time came. She’d set Cain to ensuring that much.
“Surprising progress.” Cain motioned for a nearby stair, and Petra nodded.
They progressed silently upward, the stairs leveling out upon a high arcade. From the vantage, they could look down upon a private pit she had seen set aside for use of her immediate family. There were few windows that oversaw this pit, and Petra knew who had access to every one of them. She cast her eyes downward.
It was the first time she had seen the Chimera’s Dragon illusion. It was skillful, tight upon her and smooth. There wasn’t a single kink in it and no bizarre ripple of magic. The pulse that radiated from it was nothing more than what one would expect of a Dragon’s magical aura in general. There was nothing about it that would alert even Petra to its presence if she hadn’t known it was there.
Arianna spun widely around Cvareh, bringing her fingertips into his neck—a kill. Petra watched as they backed away and lunged for each other once more. The woman tripped up Petra’s brother, stumbling him and grabbing for his throat in the process—a kill. They separated again and were soon tumbling, head over heels, until the Chimera had mounted Cvareh like a broken stallion with her fingertips pressing over his heart—a kill.
“She’s quite good, isn’t she?”
“She is known as the White Wraith,” Cain begrudgingly admitted. “At least she seems to have earned her infamy.”
