So Cvareh headed down through the back passages and thoroughfares to a modest platform. Unlike the one Finnyr arrived on, this had no sculpture, no foliage or design. It was primarily used for quick trips, deliveries, and trysts that were not to be observed by the watchful eyes from the manor.
Here was where he found his brother pacing back and forth, wringing his hands. Cvareh hated that his brother’s hands, of all people’s, were attached to Arianna. Finnyr didn’t deserve the honor. Maybe it was the gods above working in some weird way to see Finnyr’s hands put to good use. His brother would have never created anything meaningful with them.
Cvareh waited in the archway leading out to the platform. He knew he didn’t have time to waste, but he hadn’t thought about what he was going to say. He had to challenge, but he felt there should be more gravity to the situation, more impact.
“Where is my boco?” Finnyr snapped when a servant appeared at the door, two others in tow.
The servant said nothing, looking from Finnyr to Cvareh. That was what finally drew his brother’s attention. Cvareh wondered if he was having a waking fantasy, seeing his brother’s lip tremble slightly.
“Cvareh, good, I’m glad you’re here.” Finnyr tried to draw up his height, to make his voice stable. Both failed. Had he always been such a tiny man? “It seems as though we have an issue. They have not yet brought my boco as I commanded. Perhaps as the Xin’Ryu, you can sort this out?”
Three more people appeared from another doorway. Cvareh didn’t recognize any of them, but they all hovered with purpose. Their eyes carried a sharpness that seemed to pick at Finnyr with every glance.
“I will not sort it out as the Xin’Ryu.”
“I’m your Oji.” Finnyr looked around at all of them now, as if to search for someone to affirm the fact. “I’m your Oji!”
“Finnyr Xin’Oji To.” It was the one time Cvareh didn’t mind saying his brother’s name in association with Petra’s title. It was something that must be done if he was going to take it. “I challenge you.”
“On what grounds?” Finnyr squeaked.
Where should he start? “Neglecting House Xin.”
Everyone’s eyes volleyed from brother to brother. The outcome would affect each of them in a way that would be forever irreversible. Cvareh’s victory would mean war, but his defeat would mean centuries of oppression under House Rok.
“I-I have not—”
“Finnyr, do you accept my duel?” Cvareh pressed.
“Of course I do not!” Finnyr began laughing. “Do you think I’d let you duel me on such unsubstantiated grounds?”
“On what grounds did you duel Petra?” His sister’s name was forced out as a snarl. When his brother said nothing, Cvareh asked again, “What grounds, Finnyr? What did you charge her with? Did she cower even though it was a fool’s challenge? Or did she stand for it?”
“She challenged me.” There was truth in Finnyr’s affirmation.
Cvareh took a step forward. “She challenged you? And you killed her?”
“It was a duel!”
“Did you have help?” Cvareh continued his advance. He didn’t know what he was going to do yet, but that first step had crossed him over the point of no return. This would end now. One way or another, there would be only one Xin sibling standing when the next morning came.
“N-no.”
“Did Rok help you bring down Petra?” Cvareh’s claws shot from his hand. “Did you see our sister die a coward’s death?”
“Someone stop him!” Finnyr pointed. “He’s threatening your Oji.”
No one moved.
“Did you kill her?”
“I killed her!”
“Was the fight fair?” Cvareh’s voice rose. More people continued to arrive, no doubt drawn by the shouting.
“It was a rightly charged duel,” Finnyr insisted.
Cvareh sheathed his claws and reached out for his brother’s neck, drawing the man to him with both hands. Had Finnyr always been so weak?
“Don’t lie to me,” Cvareh growled, pressing his fingertips into Finnyr’s squishy flesh. At any moment, his claws could extend right into his brother’s pale blue skin. “Don’t lie to us.”
“I—” Finnyr gasped.
“The eyes of Xin are upon you. Did you kill Petra fairly? Are you the Oji of this house?”
“Help me!” Finnyr’s eyes lolled about, looking for salvation. But no one moved. “Fae, help me!”
“She’s not coming.” Cvareh didn’t know what Cain was doing to distract the woman, but it seemed to be working so far.
“What will you do? Kill me without a proper duel?” Finnyr hissed. It only made Cvareh want to squeeze tighter. “Will you be Oji then? No.”
“Are you Oji now?” He returned to his earlier line of questioning.
“House Rok recognizes me as such, and they’re all that matters in this world.”
Cvareh threw his brother aside. Finnyr rolled, scrambling to stop himself before he tumbled dangerously close to the ledge.
“House Rok is all that matters? Your cheek is unmarked, but you are one of them, aren’t you?”
Finnyr clambered to his feet, shifting his rumpled clothing back into place. He smoothed his vest over his narrow chest. “House Xin, I command you to slay Cvareh, for assaulting your Oji.”
No one moved.
“That’s an order!”
“Are you our Oji?” a woman asked.
“Did you kill Petra in a fair duel?” another chimed in.
“W-What?” Finnyr looked around in confusion. “Don’t question me. I’m your Oji!”
“Finnyr, you don’t understand, do you, what it really means to hold that title?” Cvareh stepped forward.
“Take another step and I-I’ll attack you myself.”
Cvareh opened his arms, welcoming the first blow. “That’s what I wanted from the beginning. If you are our Oji, defend your title. Lord Xin should be on your side.”
Finnyr’s claws shot out.
It was the final mistake in a lifetime of poor decisions.
Cvareh lunged.
Finnyr tried to guard himself, but the movement was slow and telegraphed. Cvareh swatted the defense away with one hand and plunged the other into his brother’s chest. He would waste no time. He would not draw out the fight. As satisfying as the act would be, he had more important things to focus on than bloodlust. It served all of them, even Arianna, for his brother to stop existing as quickly as possible.
Finnyr coughed in shock. “Y-you really did it,” he wheezed.
“Salvage her memory.” Cvareh’s fingers closed around Finnyr’s heart. “Did you kill Petra?”
“I did . . . but she was already poisoned.” His brother leaned forward, whispering in his ear. “You will never beat her. She is stronger than you all.”
“Coletta?” Cvareh asked. It had to be.
Finnyr grinned, grabbed Cvareh’s shoulders, and pushed himself away. Cvareh had never seen a Dragon take their own life, but it was a coward’s death befitting his brother’s existence. Finnyr stumbled backward. One foot had nothing to fall on, and he tumbled lifelessly into the empty air beyond the edge of the balcony.