“That’s why we’re headed to Napole!” Cvareh turned forward with elation. The wind swelled beneath them, carrying them higher.
If Arianna hadn’t understood the logic behind the builder’s plans of Abilla, she was utterly hopeless when they arrived in Napole. The hills continued to slope downward to the island’s eventual end, and houses piled atop them precariously in such a way that reminded her of the castle and its ignorance to all form of logic. The structures leaned against each other for support like jolly drunkards, spires drew long shadows across rooftops, and archways reached down to bustling roadways.
As they descended, Dragons paused, shading their eyes with long fingers to peer at the boco headed earthward. A few raised their hands and even more dipped into low bows, the motion barely visible from their height. Arianna glanced at her forearm, worried her illusion had somehow slipped and garnered the attention. It hadn’t.
“Are you that well known?” she asked when Cvareh took note of a genuflecting group.
“I am the Xin’Ryu,” he said it as though it should have been obvious. “The Isle of Ruana is Xin’s. Everyone here is a Xin.”
That was startling. Ariana had been struggling to grasp the notion of family since it had first been introduced on Loom by the Dragons. Two parents rearing a child seemed vastly more ineffective than the communal arrangement of Ter.0 that she had been brought up in. But the size of a single Dragon family now seemed impossibly excessive. How did they even keep track of it all?
“There are red and green Dragons here,” she observed, the colors blurring together as their shadow cut across rooftops.
“There are. A Dragon’s skin color is determined by the island they’re born on, their native House.”
“So two red Dragons can give birth to a blue Dragon?”
“Technically, though I have no idea why two of House Rok would ever move to Ruana.”
“That makes… absolutely no sense.” Arianna’s head hurt already from the lack of reason surrounding her. If she were an Alchemist and possessed more than rudimentary knowledge of biology, she’d likely be having a conniption.
“Why?”
“Because children take after their parents. It’s why strong, healthy Fenthri were selected to breed on Ter.0, before the Dragon King mucked up the system and forced this ridiculous notion of families.”
She thought he stiffened at the mere mention of “breeding,” but perhaps it was her imagination reading overmuch into the shift of his body as he navigated the boco onto a wide platform. Other birds milled about, pecking from troughs and cawing at each other in a way only they could understand.
Here, too, there were silent keepers who materialized from the shadows. They were an omnipresent reminder of the hierarchy Nova steeped itself in—a system that inspired a discomfort in Arianna she struggled to shake. They brought trays laden with fruit and heavy glasses filled to the brim with a liquid the color of Fenthri blood. Cvareh took a glass and refused the fruit. Arianna followed suit, operating under the assumption that Dragons would never willingly drink the blood of a Fenthri.
“Cvareh’Ryu!” A woman strode out from an overhang that was bursting with flowering vines. The sunlight didn’t hesitate to expose the bareness of her chest. Everything was too bright on Nova. “It has been some time.”
“I’ve been at prayer to our Lord in the mountains,” Cvareh kept his lie.
“So the rumors say.” The lie was clearly well known and as flimsy as it sounded, judging by her tone.
Arianna averted her eyes from the exchange, bringing the glass to her lips. She had yet to fully acclimate to the Dragons’ way of dressing—or lack thereof. Even as Arianna had donned the fashion, she felt consolation that the illusion would be placed over top her bare skin. Every breeze was a chilling reminder for all the fabric she didn’t wear. But donning the guise of a Dragon made her feel oddly less exposed.
She sniffed the contents of the goblet. It had a strange aroma, like grape and sulfur, heady, with a sharp edge unlike anything she’d encountered before. Arianna took a sip, and was overcome by an instantaneous coughing fit the moment it burned her throat.
“Dear me, is your companion all right?” the woman asked.
“Fine,” Arianna replied for herself before Cvareh could speak. Royuk was heavy on her tongue, as Arianna was more accustomed to listening than speaking, but her mouth still formed the sounds with the confidence of years of tutelage.
Her accent must have been passable, as the woman didn’t comment. “Is the wine not to your liking?”
“It’s fine.” Arianna had no idea what else to say. She glanced at Cvareh, hoping he’d explain somehow what “wine” was and how she was supposed to respond.
The bastard broke out laughing. “Forgive her.” He took a step closer to Arianna. An arm slipped around her waist, long fingers palming the bare skin of her side. “This is Ari Xin’Anh, and recently, Bek.”
“So you are new to the upper side of the isle.” The woman smiled, flashing her teeth.
Arianna was new to Nova. She was still attaching textbook learning to practical meaning. But she knew when someone was trying to intimidate her. She smiled wide in return and wondered if she’d made her canines long enough in the illusion she’d crafted.
Apparently she had, as the woman broke eye contact first and turned back to Cvareh. “A personal Anh, I take it?”
“Indeed.” Cvareh had yet to remove his hand from her person and Arianna was ready to remove it herself. The only thing that prevented her from doing so was the determined grip he had, the swell of his magic at her side that felt as if it were trying to engulf her.
“You are so lucky, Ari’Anh.” Arianna instantly didn’t like the way her name sounded in the woman’s mouth. “To have been noticed by the Xin’Ryu.”
Arianna said nothing. She just kept smiling. And drinking her wine.
“How long will you be in Napole?” the woman asked.
“The night.” Cvareh guided Arianna inside, earning himself a questioning glare. He didn’t change his demeanor. “I trust you have lodging?”
“For you? Always.” The woman smiled, thinner, subservient to Cvareh.
They were led down a long hall. A swirling ribbon carved into the wood on either side of them created a dizzying pattern from one end to the next, breaking away from the wall to become the banister for a wide stairway. Arianna stretched her fingers against their binding. Her fifth finger had gone completely unresponsive, the bone likely shattered to dust from magical exhaustion.