“Good.” The bocos were close enough for him to make out their colors. His claws itched for release. “I will only do what I feel is best for House Xin. It is all Petra ever demanded of me.”
Cain said nothing more on the matter, settling instead for a small nod. He looked forward again and couldn’t contain a growl. “He means to make war with his mere arrival.”
The other man had no doubt seen the detail of Finnyr’s boco as well. “He seems to be having trouble doing it.” Raku, Petra’s trusted mount, was very clearly begrudging the notion of having Finnyr ride him. The bird squawked in protest, ruffling its feathers with every few flaps of its mighty wings.
Cvareh was more focused on Finnyr’s companions. Two Riders, with only a handful of beads each, flew both sides, and the hulking form of a Tam woman flew closest to Finnyr. Cvareh recognized one of the Riders as the man who had delivered the news yesterday, and the other he’d seen in the king’s entourage . . . but the woman was new.
She had but one bead. It should mean she was as green to combat as the color of her skin.
But Cvareh didn’t believe the symbolism for a moment, and every look he took at her as she approached reaffirmed the fact. Yveun was playing one of his games with this one. He wanted them to assume the woman was no one of importance.
Cvareh instinctively knew better.
The party of four landed. Raku immediately bucked, trying to take to the skies again. Finnyr pulled hard on the reigns, only managing to upset the bird more.
The rest of House Xin watched, saying nothing. Not one servant moved to help the Oji as he dismounted.
Raku promptly flew away the first second he was able. Cvareh sympathized with the creature. He too wished to ruffle his feathers, cry indignantly, and take off for the horizon. Eventually, the bird would return; Raku was too loyal not to, and those hard-formed habits had long since turned into instinct.
“Is this all the welcome the mighty House Xin can muster for their Oji’s arrival?” It was fitting the large Tam—no, she bore a Rok symbol on her cheek—was the first to speak. Finnyr couldn’t even muster the strength to look any of them in the eye for longer than a moment.
“Welcome back to Ruana, Finnyr’Oji.” Cvareh wouldn’t allow himself to be a coward. He was better than his brother. But that didn’t mean that he could bring himself to say “home” to the man who had seen their sister, the best among them, die at the hand of Rok.
The moment Finnyr’s eyes met his was the moment Cvareh knew that he was, indeed, capable of killing his brother.
“It—” Finnyr coughed, trying to clear his throat. He continued, stronger, “It is good to return home to the land of my forefathers as your Oji.”
At the word “Oji,” an unspoken tension coursed through House Xin. Every man and woman felt it. Even Cvareh’s chest tightened around the sound.
It was a pull to the title, a desire to recognize the rank and file that every element of Dragon society had told them from birth was the only thing separating them from destruction and discord. But it didn’t feel right when directed at Finnyr, of all people.
From the corner of his eye, Cvareh saw Cain looking to him.
Cvareh’s legs itched to move, but his feet stayed. Something about this still wasn’t right.
“I have seen your chambers prepared in advance of your arrival.”
“At least someone on this dreary rock has sense.” The woman at Finnyr’s side sneered at the statues that surrounded them, at the men and woman assembled.
“Thank you, Cvareh.”
It was a testament to House Xin’s steadfastness that an audible, collective gasp didn’t rise like a wind at Finnyr’s disrespect. To speak Cvareh’s name without a suffix . . . to rob him of the title that had been there for so long . . . Cvareh hardly knew what his name sounded like without it.
Cvareh’s hate for his brother worsened by the moment.
Cvareh gave a small bow of his head, forcing the interaction to continue. There was nothing he could do, for now, and he wanted it over with.
The people began to shift. There was a whisper, too quiet to discern clearly. Cvareh felt the weight of his family’s eyes on him again. Cain wordlessly heaped expectations on him like shrouds of lead.
Cvareh knew what they wanted, especially now that a whiff of a potential slight was in the air.
Finnyr began to walk forward; Cvareh and Cain both parted to allow him to pass. The woman remained glued at his side, always within half a step of Finnyr. Up close, Cvareh could feel her magic. And he could see her eyes—a beautiful, and unnervingly familiar, shade of lilac.
“Are you going to let him go?” Cain finally snapped. His words were hushed and hurried, but anger distorted volume.
“What’s this?” The woman turned. “Is this a challenge I hear?”
Cain balled and uncurled his fingers. Cvareh knew the motion his friend made when trying to fight against unsheathing his claws.
“Not a challenge.” Cvareh stepped between Cain and the woman. “Cain’Da is merely curious when Finnyr and I will find time to regroup on the current status of the house and affairs of Xin.”
“I see . . .” The woman smiled, wide enough for her fangs to be a challenge in their own right. Her eyes were indeed familiar. Not just in color, shape, and shade . . . but in the level of bloodthirsty ruthlessness he had also seen in Arianna’s gaze. It was a lust for revenge he was starting to understand too well. “So good to have one so loyal to your house.”
“We are lucky.” Cvareh held his position. He didn’t want to get into a brawl here—not with two Riders on the ground, with this mysterious woman, with Finnyr being a worthless coward the house could tear limb from limb, and especially not with a Dragon King only a half-day’s ride away, who was no doubt itching to unleash his full power and lay waste to House Xin.
“Speaking of great loyalty . . .” The woman looked around at those assembled. “The Dragon King has sent me to stay with Finnyr during his transition as Oji. I am Master Rider Fae Rok’Da To, and I will ensure that there is no conduct unbecoming toward those who are, no doubt, loyal to his supreme rule throughout this trying time.”
“We are to be babysat by—”
“Cain, enough.” Cvareh hated himself. He hated that the moment his claws were unsheathed, it was to direct them at his friend, the most loyal among them to their name.
But his hand drawn back, claws shining faintly in the sunlight, had the right effect. Cain was stunned into silence. He turned to Cvareh in a rage that was quickly quelled.
Cvareh poured it all into his face now that he was turned away from Finnyr and the woman, and the other two Riders were on the far end of the platform, already mid-departure.
They were all angry. Every member of House Xin was angry and bearing the uncomfortable badge of mourning. But he would not have them act in foolishness that would get them killed.
“Forgive me, Cvareh’Ryu.” Cain lowered his eyes.
“Shouldn’t you be seeking my forgiveness?” Fae’s voice sent shivers up Cvareh’s spine. “After all, I stand for Yveun’Dono here.”