“And how often do you come to Ruana?”
“Too often, in that I come at all.” She lay back. Gossip-mongers would continue to perpetuate her weak and sickly state. But all Yveun saw was the visage of a woman who was nothing more than fiercely bored.
“I appreciate your indulgence, Rok’Ryu.” He spoke sincerely. Coletta wasn’t one for leaving her gardens or… diversions. But she had packed and mounted her boco without question upon hearing that the Court was to be held on Ruana.
“You should never have any doubt.” The words were almost threatening, on the off chance he sincerely had.
“In you? Never.” Truer words had yet to be spoken that day.
“Besides, you need me.” Her mouth pressed into a thin and knowing smile that Yveun could never deny. “So, what role am I playing by day while we are here?”
He was the sun, and she was his moon. Forever in orbit, perpetually watching the sky while the other slumbered. Thus, by day, she operated by his wants and rules. By night, he by hers. “The same role you usually do. No one will challenge you if they think it will be a poor, shameful duel with a sickly Ryu.”
Coletta laughed softly. When she smiled he could see the gray of her gums, turned to ash with her secretive and underhanded business.
“Let them challenge me, Yveun, and see how long they live.”
Yveun smiled back at his mate, baring his teeth. If anyone did ever challenge the Rok’Ryu, they would answer to him. Yveun would never let another touch his queen. They should hope to answer to him. For, if Coletta had her way, the death would be infinitely more painful and drawn out than anything Yveun could devise.
The amphitheater was even more impressive up close. Every fifth column was the sculpture of a Dragon—ones he did not recognize but could only assume were important to House Xin. Wide, bat-like wings extended behind them, supporting the second tier of seating and arcade windows that let in the breezes from above. Sapphires as big as his head made their eyes, shining keenly at all who entered through the archways below.
They were met by a tall man with skin the color of sea foam. His name faded away from Yveun’s immediate memory into the realm of unimportance, but Finnyr seemed to recognize him. The two exchanged a tense look before the man led them up a quiet stair.
“The Xin’Oji has prepared this viewing platform especially for you, Dono.” He bowed, motioning for Yveun and his party to continue.
The balcony was high, the highest in the amphitheater, laden with fineries and draped in chiffon that danced upon the wind. It was a box befitting of a king positioned among the nameless and slaves.
In all other instances, he would insist on being the highest in a room, the better to loom over all that was his. But at the Court he wanted to be in the thick of it. He wanted to be so close to the pit that blood could splatter his cheeks. He wanted to be—
Yveun walked over to the edge of the balcony.
—where Petra was sitting.
The woman raised her glass of Xin wine with a thin smile. It was a restrained motion, but a quiet jab all the same. Yveun waged an internal war. He could demand her position, but then he would look like the insecure ruler who needed a place to solidify his prowess. Tam would certainly trade him; their platform was in the middle of the arena. But the spot was fitting for those who kept the balance. Furthermore, he was the Rok’Oji Dono, and he would not rely on a Tam.
“Wine,” Yveun growled, holding out his hand. He didn’t even see who supplied it.
He raised his own glass to Petra, staring down the woman for a long moment. She sipped, and he did the same. Yveun turned and stalked to his seat, virtually out of sight for the masses below. No, he asked no man or woman for pity. If he was to be seated above them all, he would appear like a god to rule over life and death and the Dragon Court. He made concessions to no man or woman.
The man who had escorted them to the box departed. Finnyr, Coletta, Lossom, and two of his most trusted Kin remained. Coletta stepped forward, dropping her voice to a hush meant only for his ears.
“She seeks to make a fool of you, Yveun.”
“Doesn’t she always?” He took another healthy drink from his wineglass.
“You have walked into her home to let her do it.” Coletta rarely guarded her tongue to anyone, Yveun included.
“She will be the fool before the day is done,” Yveun swore.
“See that she is, Dono.” Coletta gave him a cautionary stare. “I grow tired of this game I’ve let you play.”
A growl rose from his throat as his mate walked to one of the plush seats. It escaped as a roar that echoed throughout the amphitheater. A third of the seats were still empty, as the upper echelons of Dragon society slowly flowed in from the revelries outside. But Yveun was done waiting, and they all functioned at his behest.
He threw down his glass. Wine arced through the air like crimson rain before splattering between shards of glass in the pit far below. The very wind itself seemed to hold its breath for his decree.
“I did not travel from Lysip for wine.” His voice boomed, echoing off every pillar and person. “I traveled for blood. I traveled to thin my fattening Court. I traveled to see which of you are deserving of your names and which of you have yet to grow into the titles you were born for.”
No one spoke. No one breathed.
“Let the Crimson Court commence!” he shouted so loudly the very heavens rumbled. “Who will be the first challenger?”
A man stood, eager for the honor of being the first in the pit, to be the one whose feet would touch that hallowed and unsoiled ground. Yveun bared his teeth in utter delight that the man was one of House Rok. Unsurprisingly, he called against one of House Xin for an offense of cheating committed in his card room.
The two leapt over people and empty stands, descending into the pit as claws and teeth and rage. With no objection from Yveun, they collided. Gold splattered the walls, the smell of freshly cut grasses filling the air from the Xin. It mingled and soured against the smell of huckleberry from the Rok. The two scraped and scrambled for a long few minutes, shredding each other to pulp.
But, as Yveun expected in all things, the man of House Rok eventually won the upper hand.
He tore the Xin man’s heart still beating from his chest. He held it up with a primal cry, golden blood running down his arm and dripping onto his face before slowly evaporating into the air. The Rok man brought the heart to his mouth and took a glutinous bite.