Cvareh put all else aside. If it was enough to unsettle Cain, it was something serious indeed. “What has happened?”
“The wine on Ruana has been poisoned.”
Cvareh didn’t even have the capability to process the words Cain was saying. It made no sense. “Why would the wine be poisoned?”
“Think of who such a thing would benefit.” Cain scowled with murderous intent.
“Rok bastards.” Cvareh rolled another several curses off his tongue.
“All wine is to be discarded into the God’s Line. I am to spread the word.”
“Go with haste.” Cvareh would not keep him a moment longer. “Where is my sister?”
“Her sitting parlor.”
Cvareh started in that direction. He had to get to Petra. She would know how to make sense of this.
“She is alone with Finnyr’Kin.”
The words made Cvareh pause. He turned to look back at the Dragon who stood several steps away now, and whose words held an unspoken caution. Cain would say no more, clearly. He had been put too far in his place of late to do so. Furthermore, it was not a matter of the House’s safety. This was now a matter of family.
“Thank you, Cain.”
“Walk in the protection of Lord Xin.”
They went separate ways.
If Petra had called Finnyr, she suspected him to be involved, or to know something of the crime. She was dumping all wine on Ruana, which led him to believe the damage was widespread. Dread grew with his every step.
It wasn’t until the sharp smell of cedar drifted through the halls of the Xin Manor that Cvareh broke out into a run. He pushed slaves out of the way, focused only on his destination. The scent of blood grew to an overwhelming, pungent stench as he neared Petra’s parlor.
Cvareh broke through the door, skidding to a stop at the sight of the scene before him.
Petra was straddled atop what could only be described as the pulp of their older brother. Her claws dripped blood with every swing, spattering around her in wide arcs. She rocked atop his chest like death’s lover, a dark and primal savagery overcoming her.
“Useless. Useless. Useless!” she screamed the word over and over.
Finnyr cried and gasped through lips that were sheared back to bone. If he could make noise, then he was alive. That meant Cvareh wasn’t too late to save Petra from her own madness.
Cvareh ran to their side. He gripped Petra’s wrist, stopping her mid-swing. Petra snarled at his tether.
“Sister, enough!”
“Unhand me,” she growled.
“Petra.” Cvareh slackened his grip, but he still held her. He needed his sister to feel his magic, their magic, the magic that their brother also shared. “You will kill him if you continue.”
“It is because of him that Xin have died this night.” She spat the words. “Save him and you are no better than the cowards and butchers he works for.”
“Kill him, and neither are you.” Cvareh knew his sister. He knew when she needed to be pushed. He knew he was the one person in the whole world who could get away with it. “Did you intend to murder him without witnesses? Without calling his crimes? Without a proper duel? Will you stoop to the level of House Rok?”
Petra panted. Finnyr groaned. Cvareh was left to speak sense into the madness.
“You are the Xin’Oji. Your House needs your example.” Cvareh knelt. He focused only on his sister. “No one doubts your ferocity, Petra.”
“Move.” She pushed him away. Cvareh thought she was merely making space to strike at Finnyr again, but she stood with a small sway. The death of House Xin’s fighters and innocent alike had taken something from her. “You’re right, Cvareh.”
Cvareh remained silent, letting Petra speak. Just as he knew when to push, he knew when to back away. And this was a Petra who would skin anyone or anything alive that prevented her from being heard.
