14. Cvareh

He could hear her.

He could hear every labored breath. He could hear every drop of blood splattering the floor. He could hear each dull thud of flesh that served as a chilling auditory reminder of what was happening behind the door he faced.

Cvareh hadn’t moved since being cast out. He had made no motion when he heard her quiet tinkering with the lock. He did not attempt to force entry by breaking the door frame and smashing the chair she’d propped against the latch.

She had not wanted him there. She had chosen to endure the self-surgery on her own. It was as foolish as it was brave. It clouded his emotions with both admiration for her ferocity and aggravation at her persistence that every burden be shouldered alone.

But that was Arianna. That was the torrent that pulled him under every time his eyes rested on her. And it was no wonder why he had purposefully avoided seeing her. Every complex emotion combined with the draw of the boon was too much for him. For weeks he’d wanted to run from it, and now that he was faced with her once more, literally carrying a reason to loathe her, he wanted nothing more than to be by her side. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to be alone.

Cvareh sighed heavily, closing his eyes. He pressed his forehead to the door. He could smell the bright, unique signature of her magic. It was overwhelming, no doubt from all the blood being spilled from the process of severing her own hands.

He licked his lips.

Clawed fingers curled around the door lever and Cvareh considered how much force he’d have to apply to earn entry. But even if he did, what then? What could he possibly do? He knew nothing of the ways of adding new parts to a Chimera. And somehow, even one-or no-handed, he suspected Arianna would have enough rage to still be a force to be reckoned with.

“Will you wait there all night?”

Cvareh’s eyes regained focus, peering through the dimly lit hall at the man who leaned against a far wall. Cain stared back at him, inquisitive. The question hadn’t been rhetorical.

“Perhaps.” Cvareh didn’t really know what he would do. Not when it came to Arianna. Just when he thought he’d figured it out, the woman elicited a different response from him.

“Why?”

Cain wouldn’t understand. All Cain saw was the Chimera from Loom, a wretched amalgamation of Dragon and Fenthri that was now stealing magic from one of their House. Cain had not been there on Loom for all the days spent journeying with the brash and beautiful woman.

“Because we need her.”

“More that you need her.” Cain crossed the hall with measured steps; his walk betrayed both his boldness and willingness to turn at dismissal. It was a delicate dance that only a Dragon could manage. But Cain had earned boldness around Cvareh. The two had grown up together nearly as brothers, and in the dark halls of the Xin Manor with no eyes upon them, Cvareh fashioned them closer to equals.

“Both are true,” he confessed.

“Why? What do we need with her?” Cain focused on the House first.

“She can make a Philosopher’s Box.” Confusion crossed his friend’s face, forcing Cvareh to elaborate. “A mechanism that will make perfect Chimera. It will give Loom the ability to stand against the Dono.”

“Do we want that?” Cain asked uncertainly.

“It will shift the tides for House Xin.”

“And then we will be faced with Fenthri who are emboldened against us.”

“We will let the Fenthri govern themselves. Petra has never wanted to be the Dono of Loom. In our great history, House Xin has never governed the world below. Our ends are entirely Nova. We don’t need to dirty ourselves with the rock—” Cvareh’s appeal to Cain’s distaste for Loom was cut short as Arianna let out a sharp gasp. He leaned against the door, listening carefully, holding his own breath while he waited to hear the continued sounds of her labors.

“Petra should be Dono of the world below and above.” Cain’s loyalty was unwavering.

“She will be the Dono of nothing if we do not gain an advantage over House Rok.” Cvareh had sat through too many discussions with his sister to entertain alternatives. They had turned over numbers, hypotheses, plots and plans every which way. Barring the Dono making some grave error—which Yveun was not known for—gaining strength from Loom was their only way to tip the scales and force House Tam’s hand.

“I trust you both.” Of that, Cvareh had no doubt. “But this does not sit easy with me.” Cain motioned toward the door. “You gave her your brother’s hands. Of all who would make that sacrifice for the House, she will have the magic of the direct blood of the Oji.”

“And it was the Oji’s choice.” Cvareh neglected to mention that she had already had the direct blood of the Oji from imbibing off him.

Cain sighed.

“I would think this would delight you, as it will mean you no longer need to waste your time illusioning her.”

“Am I pleased to be free of that burden? Yes.” Cain didn’t even bother denying it. “But that means she will walk freely among us. You have given her the ability to pass among our brothers and sisters, to mingle so long as the illusion can be maintained. I don’t trust her in my home.”

“Then trust in me, and the trust I place in her.”

Cain’s eyes, nearly a reflection of Cvareh’s own, studied him. He kept his height and didn’t waver. If he did, weakness would poison the waters of his authority. It was something Cvareh could not afford to have happen. Even though Cain was like a brother, the distance Cvareh held as Ryu needed to be maintained. Petra had worked too hard in crafting it; he could not let his sister down.

“The ends best be great, Cvareh.” The other man pushed off the wall he’d leaned against. “Because you are charting a dangerous course.” Cain rested a hand on Cvareh’s shoulder, a familial motion that showed his sincerity. “Keep both eyes open about this woman. She will gut you alive if it serves her.”

“No one knows this more than I.” He had seen Arianna’s ruthlessness first-hand on multiple occasions. “I’m the only one among us who truly sees her. I am the only one on Nova who knows anything about this woman.”

Cvareh looked to Cain with a silent challenge. Would the man think that the time he had spent with Arianna had given him more insight into the woman than he himself possessed? Cain narrowed his eyes slightly, but stepped away with a small bow of his head—deferring to Cvareh’s assessment.

Cain disappeared into the darkness, his figure fading in the diminishing light of the oil lanterns that lined the hall. As much as Cvareh wanted to defend Arianna further, he knew he couldn’t. Cain’s assessment was pointed, as an experienced tactician’s should be. But Cvareh still wondered how he’d gathered so much from the seemingly short and tumultuous relationship he’d had with Arianna.

An unusual emotion crept up on him, a jealousy of sorts for Cain’s unexpected awareness of Arianna—though it had been Cvareh’s decision for him to look after her in the first place. Cain was the only one Cvareh trusted to not be completely overrun by Arianna’s mannerisms, which seemed to hold true. Cvareh had thought he needed space from her to clear his head, but now regret for the decision to let anyone else stay at her side was sudden and swift.

The woman had been quiet for some time, but a sharp hiss of pain brought Cvareh’s attention back to the door. She continued on. His watch continued alongside her.

He sat, the back of his head resting against the barrier that kept him from her. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of her labor. Behind his eyelids, he remembered the first time he’d watched her hands work on the ship they rode to cross the inner sea between Ter.4 and Ter.5. They’d moved deftly, fixing engine problems with fearless precision.

Those hands would be gone, in their place something new. Cvareh had never thought about it quite under the same circumstances, but Fenthri had the capacity to change, to grow. Being a Chimera, adding new organs, they became something more. He had been born into his skin and he would keep it with him until the day he died.

But she was something more now than she was a mere few hours ago.

She was always something more.

His memories played like a soft lullaby in dark harmony with the sounds of her labors. Sounds that, for all their gruesome truths, told him she was still alive. A morbid peace took over him as he waited away the night.

Shifting stirred Cvareh from an unexpected sleep. He blinked his eyes open, wondering how and when he fell asleep. The echoes of Arianna’s labors played in his ears and Cvareh tried to make sense of when they’d quieted enough for him to slumber.

The hallway was illuminated with the brightness of dawn, windows cutting beams of light in the quiet corner of the manor. Just as his mind was shrugging off the haze of sleep, the door behind him opened. Cvareh toppled backward, catching himself at the last second with an elbow, nearly colliding with the pair of legs that waited on the inside of the door.

They were a pale blue color, not unlike his own. Leather shorts, similar to what Petra would fashion herself in, hugged mostly bare hips. Strips of crossed fabric bound over her breasts, the dark wine color offsetting the hue of her exposed skin in a way Cvareh would’ve never himself attempted. And yet, he must commend her for it, as there was something quite striking about the color contrast. Her eyes were the same purple color, but her hair had gained a more golden shade, framing the only thing familiar about the woman staring down at him.

“Since you seem to be suddenly insistent on keeping my company, you can be the one to take me out of this place.”

The voice was distinctly Arianna. Nothing could change her tone and cadence. But it was a strange disconnect to see it coming from a Dragon’s mouth.

“Up with you.” She nudged him with her foot. “I want to see this Isle of Ruana.”