Petra laughed. “Does his fondness for the woman bother you so?” Cvareh was certainly a gossip with all his visits to Napole’s tea parlors, but she’d never taken Cain for such habits.
“Why doesn’t it bother you, is the better question?” As if realizing his own boldness after the fact, Cain glanced around quickly, taking note of any who could’ve overheard. Lucky for him, the only other guests in the box were close Kin who Petra had no cause to worry over.
“Cvareh is loyal above all to House Xin. If someone is fond of him, then they must also be fond of his House. Their relationship is an advantage to us. Ends before ideals.”
“Ends before ideals,” Cain repeated.
“Have a little more heart in that,” Petra cautioned.
“Forgive me, Oji. It is only, the notion of our Ryu with a… thing… like that woman.” Conflict was apparent in both Cain’s voice and expression. He believed in the motto of House Xin, but the matter bothered him to an immense degree—enough that it seemed to rattle his very core.
Oh well.It doesn’t matter what he thinks. There were certain benefits to being Oji, and never having to explain herself was one. Cain would come to his senses sooner or later, or Petra would forcefully remove all conflict on the matter for him.
“Petra, her blood…”
“Was as it should be.” Cain was too smart for his own good and had been around the woman for too long. Petra needed to stop this speculation where it was. “It is none of your concern.”
“You must have seen it, smelled it. There was somethingoffabout that illusion. I don’t think—”
“I do not need you to think,” Petra interrupted abruptly. “I need you to do as I say for the good of Xin.”
“That is what I am concerned for, Oji.”
“Cain, that is whatIam concerned for. If you wish to be so concerned for it, then you wish to be the Oji.” Petra turned to him, baring her teeth. “Would you like to step into the pit?”
“Never.” Cain lowered his eyes and face, submissive.
“Good.”
The duel before them finished and a long stretch passed before any challengers shouted forward. It had been an aggressive first day, but they were all becoming overwhelmed with bloodsport. Half the stands had already retired and even the Rok versus Rok duels held less joy for her.
“There is someone I need to see,” she announced upon arriving at a decision in her head. “Cain, stand for someone if they’re of particular import.”
“Understood, Oji.” His eyes betrayed his curiosity, but his tone and body language were obedient. She hoped he had learned his lesson sufficiently.
Petra descended into the busy halls and walks of the amphitheater. With most of the stands emptying, many a Dragon worked their way to the town below. Petra did not blend in. The masses parted for her with small bows. Members of House Xin delighted in their genuflections. Tam were pleased to keep the balance, respecting the Oji of another House.
House Rok stepped to the back of the lines that formed on either side of her. They gave nothing more than the obligatory bow of their heads, regarding her with shadowed eyes and mouths pressed into thin lines. Their subservience and respect was drawn from them with force.
The Court had only served to make things worse between the Houses, she decided. The bloodshed had singed their nostrils and reminded them that Nova was not one Dragon family. They were factions, divided and vying for the circumstances that would give them the most power. What was “best for Nova” was defined entirely by what was best for any one individual House.
Petra turned, disappearing through a curtained hall and onto a shaded balcony. The sticky scent of fruit that had been baking in the sun all day upon silver platters created a masking perfume to the carnage that happened in the pit. Petra’s eyes fell upon two lounging couples—luckily Xin and Tam.
“Out with you,” she commanded. “I require this space.”
The Dragons exchanged a look. She could sense their displeasure at the prospect of being uprooted. But they obliged her, every last one.
Petra turned to the slave who stood in the corner by the table, a scrawny little Tam with the symbol of Xin emblazoned upon her cheek. Petra had made sure that all the slaves and low servants were wine-or forest-skinned Dragons. She wanted Tam and Rok Dragons to look upon the men and women who had left their Houses and now wore Xin’s mark forever. She wanted to test the slaves’ loyalty. She wanted all to see Dragons that were previously Rock and Tam now under her claws, and serving her as the picture of obedience.
“Bring me Finnyr Xin’Kin To,” Petra ordered. “You will find him with the Dono.”
The servant nodded, departing in haste. Petra walked over to the un-railed edge of the balcony. The sun was starting to dip low in the sky. If Court hadn’t been formally ended, it would be soon.
The Crimson Court was always between dawn and sunset. The priests taught that Lady Luc, the Light-herald, was born each morning by the hand of Lord Rok. Each night, she was slain by Lord Xin, to make room for his brother, Lord Pak the Dark-wielder, to overtake the sky. Lord Rok fought against Lord Pak until the dawn… when the cycle repeated.
House Rok held the Crimson Court during the hours of their patron’s Lady. Long ago, when it was the Cobalt Court, duels were held at night. Petra tensed her claws, relaxed them. Her mind filled with the fantasy of midnight blue Dragons swirling through the pit like wraiths made from shadow and death, illuminated by the moon, and fighting for House and glory.
“You summoned me.”
