Rok and Xin battled into the afternoon. For every one Rok challenge, there were two Xin. Tam may as well have not even shown up. It was clear who was fighting for dominance in this Court. Yveun missed half the fights, his seat positioned too far back and too high for a good view. But every time he graced the edge of the balcony, the Rok fighters below battled twice as hard and went for increasingly vicious kills.
As a result of this poor positioning, it was afternoon by the time he finally realized the House Xin box had been filled. Yveun’s blood ran hot at the mere sight of Cvareh, the lying bastard brother of the bitch who pursued his demise as though she had nothing else in the world to worry over.
“Lossom,” he summoned his current Master Rider. The man was at his side in an instant. “Challenge Cvareh’Ryu.”
“Dono, I have no cause for a challenge against the Xin’Ryu…” Lossom’s hesitation was almost enough for Yveun to kick him face-first into the pit below and let whoever desired tear him limb from limb and lick his bones clean.
They had cause a hundred times over. The death of each one of his Riders on Loom would be more than enough for Yveun to order any Rok to challenge Cvareh. But that would first require admitting that the Riders were on Loom to begin with. Yveun growled, caught in a snare of his own shadowy invention.
“Invent one.”
“But—”
“I am the Dono, Lossom. Comprehend what that means. If I support your demand for a duel, none will permit him to back out.” Yveun walked away from the edge, and toward his beacon of sanity lounging in the shape of a woman.
Cheers erupted from the duel ending. The runner of the ring, one of House Tam for all their love of balance, called for the next challenger. Yveun waited expectantly.
“I, Lossom Rok’Anh To, Master Rider to Yveun Dono, challenge Cvareh Xin’Ryu Soh as a liar, and for disgraces against the Dono’s name in the presence of a Rok.” Lossom didn’t flinch, completing the fatuous challenge with bold confidence. “Let he whose merit runs deepest through his veins live for the night’s revelries. Let he whose merit is a facade be reduced to blood upon the ground and shame upon his House.”
The arena had fallen silent. Every ear hung on Cvareh’s response. Yveun waited with a smirk. Cvareh could not back down. If he questioned the legitimacy he’d look like a coward, for they all knew Yveun was going to allow the duel. It was time for the Xin’Ryu to finally enter the ring and be put to rest, out of Yveun’s concerns once and for all.
“I stand for Cvareh’Ryu.” An unfamiliar woman’s voice rang out loud and clear.
Yveun stood slowly, walking to the edge. He had not expected anyone to stand for Cvareh against his Master Rider. To do so was the most foolish display of suicidal loyalty the Court had ever seen. Because if the one who stood for the accused fell, the accused was also put to death.
Far below, a pale blue woman stood with eyes like late sunset and hair the color of morning’s first light. She cut her place in the world with foolhardy arrogance, standing as though she were the personified herald of the Death Lord himself.
25. Arianna
“I, Lossom Rok’Anh To, Master Rider to Yveun Dono, challenge Cvareh Xin’Ryu Soh as a liar, and for disgraces against the Dono’s name in the presence of a Rok.”
Cvareh tensed next to her. His eyes were locked in a grim sort of determination against the crimson man who stood at the edge of the King’s box. Arianna could practically hear the echo of the words repeating themselves in his head as the challenger still spoke them.
“Let he whose merit runs deepest through his veins live for the night’s revelries. Let he whose merit is a facade be reduced to blood upon the ground and shame upon his House.”
Cvareh didn’t move. It was as if the man who called himself Lossom had woven a netted spell that trapped him to the spot. Arianna made quick work of sizing up Lossom. Judging from her angle, the height of the amphitheater, and his perspective size, she knew he was larger than Cvareh both in muscle and height.
Her eyes fell on the beads that dangled by his ear. He had called himself the Master Rider. It seemed Yveun had been forced to go with a less experienced combatant after his other Riders had never returned from Loom.
She knew what was about to happen; she’d seen it enough throughout the day. Cvareh would stand, accept the challenge, and they would descend into the ring. No others of House Xin stood. It was a matter for the Ryu to defend his title, and judging from their practice sessions leading up to the Court, Ari had minimal confidence in his ability to do so.
“I stand for Cvareh’Ryu.” Arianna jumped to her feet.
“What are you doing?” Cvareh hissed.
“Saving your life.”
“This isn’t done.” He grabbed her arm, trying to pull her back down. “Dragons don’t stand for their Ryu or Oji.”
Arianna leaned forward, meeting him halfway. Her mouth found his ear as she spoke “Good thing I’m not a Dragon, then.”
“Who are you?” The King’s voice echoed across the silence.
She turned to address the man who gave face to all her nightmares, the formless evil who stood atop Loom like it was a tailless scorpion beneath his boot. She had watched him all day, studied him in every way she knew how. All evidence pointed to a singular truth: The Dragon King was nothing more than a man.
And men could be killed.
Men could be pinned down and ripped apart and tortured until they begged for release—release that would never be given to them.
“Ari Xin’Anh Bek,” she recited.
His head turned, looking to Petra. Arianna followed his stare as well, catching Cain’s eyes. They were as round as saucers and sparking with anger. She gave him a toothy grin. The man still thought she couldn’t speak Royuk. Well, now he knew.
Petra glanced at her from the corners of her eyes but said nothing. Ari’s play had worked. Petra couldn’t speak against her without calling their whole facade into question. She couldn’t give Ari any more care than she would any other Dragon. She had to ignore the fact that Arianna was the Fenthri who held the design of the Philosopher’s Box in her mind. Cvareh could not stand when someone had stood for him. And that meant she was about to head into the pit.
“Very well, Ari Xin’Anh Bek. You fight with both your life and title as well as that of Cvareh Xin’Ryu.” The Dono gave his blessing with amusement, already writing off the duel, and the Rider launched himself onto the stands nearby.
When Lossom was halfway down, Arianna set herself into motion as well. She’d seen enough of his mannerisms to gain an overall understanding of how fast he could move. She’d meet him in the pit.
The scent of blood and magic assaulted her the second her feet touched the packed ground. With no air or wind, it sat trapped on the surface, smothering her senses with the remnants of gore.
Arianna tightened the splint on her fingers one clip. They would be cut off before her illusion would fall.
She sprinted forward, determined to pounce on the Rider the moment he landed. But he sprung off the wall, spinning through the air and landing nimbly behind her. With the advantage she’d sought lost, Arianna was instantly on defensive.