“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.