The Dragons of Nova (Loom Saga #2)

He strode past his subservient subjects on a mission towards one of the middle homes. Yveun did not even knock before crossing the threshold of a stately one-roomed chalet. Just the man he was looking for stared, startled, from behind a desk that could nearly rival Yveun’s in quality. Nearly rival.

“Dono.” Finnyr stood only to fold at the waist in a low bow. “I was not expecting you this morning.”

“Weren’t you?” Yveun folded his arms over his chest, widening his stance.

“My lord?” Confusion shone true from Finnyr’s face into his magic. He clearly had not consulted the whisperer for House Xin. Or, more likely, Petra hadn’t sent any word of the King’s venture this morning.

Yveun let the accusations drop. “Finnyr, where do your loyalties lie?”

“My King, they lie where they have always been, with you and House Rok.” His brows, the color of tarnished gold, knitted together, drawing lines in his powder blue flesh.

“I have no room for question in this.” Yveun crossed the remaining distance to the desk opposite the other man. “The Guilds on Loom still resist me. Those that do not outright have yet to fully embrace the structure which I am attempting to impose upon them—structure that is the only thing standing in the way of the world below being lost to their own devices as they leech off the earth past the breaking point.”

“None have understood the gravity of this more than I.”

Finnyr was a smart and resourceful man. What he lacked in physical prowess he made up for in mental fortitude. It was the only thing that had kept him alive for the past decade. He was certainly of no other use to his family. Though Yveun had found creative ways to apply his talents.

“I cannot fight battles on two fronts. I cannot give Loom the attention it needs when I am being picked apart from within.”

Finnyr paled to nearly the white of a Fenthri. He’d heard all the layered meanings in Yveun’s words. They had not been on entirely good terms since the schematics were stolen.

“How may I serve you, Dono? You are our one true King.”

“I hope you believe that,” Yveun pushed.

“You are everything.”

That the Dono believed. Without him, Finnyr would long be dead. And Yveun knew that he held the key to the future Finnyr sought. It was a shameful bargain for a Dragon to make, to seek power and prestige through a means other than sanctioned duels. But Finnyr was a Xin, and the Xin put their ends before the means used to achieve them. They would cut out their own eye and sell it to a Harvester if it benefited their goals, and that was how Yveun had ended up in this predicament to begin with.

“See that I am, Finnyr, and you will have that which you desire someday.” The man’s eyes were alight at the prospect. Finnyr’s very existence rested in Yevun’s hands. But the King’s future was stacked precariously on the lesser Dragon’s shoulders. The brother of Petra’Oji, the man who would inherit House Xin by blood and rank should he somehow best his sister in a duel, or if Petra and Cvareh were suddenly and mysteriously found dead. “For now, I need you to speak with your dear little sister. I need answers.”

Finnyr paused. Petra’s was one entity that still deflated him with a mention after more than a decade. Shame was a seeping wound and Yveun pressed upon it to get what he wanted.

“What do you want to know?” the Dragon forced through his all-too-dull canines.

“I want to know how Cvareh survived the Riders. I want to know what happened to my schematics.” Yveun’s claws unsheathed at the mere mention of the drawings that held the most substantial progress made on the Philosopher’s box to date. “I want to know what Petra is keeping from me.”

“My lord, my sister, she—”

“No excuses and no half measures, Finnyr. You were born in the month of Lord Rok. Show me where your true heart lies.” Yveun rested his hands on the desk, his claws raking long lines across its surface as he stepped away. He’d have Finnyr flayed for an hour if he buffed them out of the resin. Yveun wanted them to last as a threat to the man until the whole catastrophe that had been the past three months was behind them. The Dono paused at the door. “Succeed, and I will forgive your prior lapse in judgment in even mentioning the schematics to your sister. Fail, and I will not let you live long enough to try again.”

Yveun sneered widely, showing off his wicked sharp fangs. He left the man fighting trembles, but felt immensely better himself. There was more to be done, but it was progress for now.

As loathe as he was to see powder blue skin, it had paid off to have the loyalty of Finnyr Xin’Kin To, eldest son of House Xin.





7. Arianna


It didn’t take long for Arianna to grow bored.

The room she’d been thrown into was uselessly lovely. She circled it a few times, staring out the tall windows to try to get her bearings. It was somewhere in the center of the castle’s x-axis, on western side, judging by the increasing brightness that streamed through one wall. She guessed she was somewhere in the middle of the y-axis as well.

Through both windows, she could see the curve of the carved stone, other colored glass portals dotting its surface. Those out the west-most facing window were far and the wall was sheer and smoothed. However, her other window was within an alcove of sorts. Relief carvings of sweeping birds across the face of the castle would make easy hand and foot holds, and it was sheltered from the gusts that regularly rattled the other window.

Why there were carvings on the outside of a castle, where only a select few with windows could see, escaped her. But seemingly everything about this place served to confound and enrage her, from the decor choices to the very Dragons living among them.

The bed had no less than ten pillows. Ten. As in, the number she would have to use two hands to count to. The fireplace burned cheerfully for a race of people who had skin as strong and thick as leather. Shelves were cluttered with all manner of paintings, bobbles, and strange devices that Arianna could not fathom a purpose for.

Cain had first had the audacity to refuse her winch box and daggers, claiming she was now under the protection of House Xin and such things were no longer needed. Arianna had cut a chunk from Dawyn’s throat with a straight razor in an effort to get to her effects before Cvareh’s “friend” did.