It would’ve been perfect. Petra wouldn’t have to kill their brother. They could make up another claim for Ari to make in the Court. Yveun wouldn’t stand for Finnyr, not when Petra could then stand for Ari and they would be forced to face each other in the ring. No one else would dare step forward in a seemingly Xin-on-Xin duel. It would’ve been a neat solution to all their problems.
But Cvareh knew, the moment he saw her ajar door, there would be no neat solutions.
He entered the room silently, as if by doing so he could sneak up on the truth and tear it apart with his claws to craft a new reality. He looked hopefully to the bed, though it showed no signs of being slept in. Her Dragon clothes were strewn about the floor. Some tears in them had been made by Cvareh’s hands earlier, but new ones tore his hopes asunder. Ones that told him they had been discarded in haste. That their wearer didn’t care if they could ever be put on again.
His eyes fell on an open drawer. It was empty. Cvareh’s heart may well rip through his chest trying to drown out the ringing of horror in his ears. He pulled out the next drawer, throwing clothes onto the floor, clothes Arianna may have never worn.
He darted to the bed. Feathers filled the room as he threw aside the pillows, his claws unsheathed. He was out of control. Anger, heartbreak, denial, frustration, exhaustion—it all had worn him down. He trashed the room, at first in his search, but then just out of anger when he realized he wouldn’t find what he was looking for.
Her daggers and coat were gone.
That meant the White Wraith was now on Ruana. Arianna was at work. And he did not think it chance that this disappearance followed the one night Finnyr himself had returned to the manor.
Cvareh collapsed into the chair, the weight of inevitable truth compressing him into a small, weak being. She had never trusted his family. He had barely begun to earn that fragile gift. And now… Cvareh groaned, burying his face in his palms.
It had been his brother that had betrayed all she loved.
With a snarl, Cvareh slammed his fist into the desk next to him, spilling a bottle of ink and sending pens rolling. He looked at her soiled inventory. It had been going so well. Petra had been getting all she had ever wanted, and somehow, Cvareh was getting all he ever needed. But Arianna had yet to find either.
Cvareh was back on his feet. He might still be fast enough to stop the momentum spinning the wheel of fate that threatened to crush them. She had no doubt smelled Finnyr’s blood; given her last reaction, his brother’s room wasn’t far enough to protect him. Really, he should be surprised it took the woman so long to put together the pieces. But the same could be said for himself.
Cvareh prayed to the Twenty that he was not too late in realizing what she had been trying to tell him from the moment they first met.
He collapsed to his knees in the open doorframe of Finnyr’s room. The wrinkles in the rug and splintered wood of the door latch told the story of what happened as plain as the daylight breaking through the window. He had failed her by not being fast enough, by not being smart enough. She and Finnyr were gone, no scent of blood to betray a kill. Which meant there was a chance they both left alive, and that was a truth far more horrible than having to deal with the body of a Xin’Kin slain in a duel without witness. Where Finnyr went, the Dragon King—the true orchestrator of Arianna’s heartache—was sure to follow. And there was no way Arianna would not take the opportunity to challenge Yveun.
She was going to get herself killed.
He practically jumped back onto his feet. He was on the move again through the halls. But rather than heading to his room, he headed for Petra’s corner of the estate.
Petra would know what to do, he insisted to himself. Her mind would’ve cooled enough that she could think logically, and she would force it to for the sake of the woman who had promised her the Philosopher’s Box.
She would do it for the woman Cvareh had chosen as his, he wanted to believe.
“Petra!” He banged on the door so hard the hinges rattled.
“Enter,” she called in reply.
Petra was halfway dressed for Court, two servants attending her.
“Leave us,” Cvareh demanded.
Petra arched an eyebrow, clearly trying to decipher what had worked Cvareh to a frenzy. But when she gave no question to his order, the two slaves left, closing the door behind them. Cvareh crossed to his sister.
“Arianna is gone.” If he wasn’t just out with it, he may lose all courage.
“Gone?” Petra repeated.
“She found Finnyr, and she, they, he—she’s going to make an attempt on Yveun’s life.”
“Finnyr?” The mere name elicited a snarl on the back end, rising up from the throat. “Why?”
Cvareh launched into his explanation without thought. Arianna may have kept the matter private. She may hate him for speaking her truth. But it was Petra. This was his sister. His flesh and blood, the woman in whom he had nothing but faith.
Petra was seething by the time he finished. “You should have come to me sooner with these truths. I would’ve never let Finnyr stay under this roof had I known.”
“I did not form lines between them until just now, until she told me enough yesterday.”
Petra cursed, knowing he was right. His sister gave him a once-over. “Dress, for the sun has nearly risen and we will head to Court. He will no doubt be keeping her and Finnyr close. We will find them during the Court’s distraction,” Petra vowed.
Cvareh did as his sister commanded. He was thankful he had already set out his clothes and they were waiting, because for the first time in his life, he didn’t care about fashion. He wanted to jump on a boco and fly across the island as fast as he could. He wanted to try to find Arianna before she found Yveun. But a torturous pragmatism whispered that he was no doubt already far too late.
He suspected as much, but he didn’t know until Petra and he were standing on the platform about to take off. Cain landed to meet them. Angry lines marred the man’s face and Cvareh knew what had been the best day of his life was only going to steadily become worse.
“The Dono has left Ruana,” Cain cursed. “Out of kindness to the mourning of House Xin, and to protect members of House Tam and Rok from the sudden illness, the Court has been ended early.”
Cvareh turned to Petra, only to find his sister staring back at him.
There was only one reason the Dono would cancel the Court: He deemed it no longer worth his time. And why would he? He had already killed most of the Xin fighters. Finnyr was marked for death and would be far less accessible to Petra on Ruana.
And he now had the only Perfect Chimera in Nova or Loom. He had the woman who could make the Philosopher’s Box. He had the key to shifting the tides of fate.
He had Arianna.
44. Arianna