The Rebels of Gold (Loom Saga #3)(11)
“Do you have a preference this evening, Ryu?” Ulia asked as Coletta seated herself on the oxblood leather ottoman at the room’s center.
“I do not.” All her life, the world had whispered of her shortcomings, What a terrible Dragon she made. Coletta cared nothing for fashion and in many cases preferred function over form. She appreciated fineries, but only insofar as they had purpose. But ignoring trivialities uncluttered her mind, allowing her to dedicate all her energy to a singular focus: domination. In this way, she was one of the greatest paragons of her species. If only the rest of Nova knew.
“How about the lavender?” Ulia asked from behind her. “It brings out the shades of wine in your skin.”
Coletta smiled, wide and wicked, at the word. Rarely did she reveal her nubby teeth and rotten gums, ravaged by years of poisoning herself for the sake of immunity, for strength. But thoughts of her grand display on the Isle of Ruana—and of Petra shuddering on the floor of the Rok Manor—made it near impossible to contain her pleasure.
By the time Ulia’s footsteps neared, Coletta’s face was as blank and composed as daylight: emotions drawn inward, face passive, eyes hard—this was the way to greet the world.
Ulia presented a simple, armless sheath that slipped over Coletta’s shoulders and split into strips at her hips. They danced and swirled around her legs as she walked. The silken material stitched with gemstones betrayed its finery, but it was otherwise simple. It showed off her thin frame and the soft, squishy skin clinging to her bones.
Demure. Frail. Delicate.
Three things no Dragon wished to be. The world whispered it of her, even as she slipped death into their drinks and food, and between their ribs.
“I do not need you to escort me to the dining room this evening, Ulia,” Coletta said as they traversed back through her garden.
“As you wish.” The girl gave a small bow. Coletta appreciated her unquestioning obedience, even when she broke form. Actions like that kept Ulia close. If the girl knew it or not, they kept her alive.
“I would, however, ask you to see that wine is set out.” She felt the corners of her mouth twitch again in a near-smile. But letting the same person see her smile more than once in a single week—in a single day no less—was far too much. “Go to the cellars. There should be a newer vintage from a winery here on Lysip.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Coletta gave the girl a nod of dismissal and started in the opposite direction.
Yveun’s halls were cluttered compared to hers. Ironwork, reminiscent of the fanned wings of a Rider’s glider, arched over her with curling tendrils of metal lacework reaching down in wide, concentric circles. Beyond was what Coletta had termed the sailcloth room, a billowing half-glass roof that looked like the puffed sail of a lake boat. On and on, the walls were adorned and the floor gleamed with a proud, polished finish.
On and on, Coletta ignored it all.
She listened, but there was not another soul to be heard. Even magic hearing would not have revealed a single sound. Yveun had likely sent away every Dragon, high and low.
Nearing his chambers, Coletta pressed on a wall. It looked no different from anything else, the wood paneling near flawless. Near flawless. A small groove betrayed the narrow door that swiveled open at her insistent force.
Clicking the door back into place, Coletta found herself in an unlit, narrow hall that ran parallel to the first. There were many secrets in the manor, and she made it a point to know them all.
Coletta walked without light, running her fingertips along the wall as she proceeded with measured steps. She avoided pushing magic into her eyes, for that could be sensed—or worse, smelled. The darkness slowed her steps, prevented the carelessness of haste that might give her away.
It seemed, however, there were some allowances that could be made for noise.
Yveun, for all his strengths, was still a man and a Dragon. A man with desires, and a Dragon bent on domination. When the two forces combined, the results were hardly silent.
Coletta heard them—heavy breathing, gasping, grunting, growling. Ahead, a few beams of gray light broke through the darkness. Coletta walked toward them like a beacon.
Where the main hall sloped downward, her private corridor remained level. She now found herself peering down at a familiar room—Yveun’s private sleeping chamber.
Blood dripped from his back where long gashes, already healing, had been dragged across his skin. Beneath him, a woman as green as Coletta’s fauna writhed and arched her back as they rutted like dogs and sounded much the same. Yveun’s face twisted, his head thrown back in a snarl of pleasure that was nearly drowned out by the smacking of his hips against the woman’s backside.
It was the first time she’d laid eyes on the creature her little buds had selected for their Dono. Fae, they had said her name was. Little and less was known about her, but Coletta knew the one thing that mattered more than all others: Yveun had taken a liking to her.
Unlike Leona, he had charged forward with this one. He had mounted the creature like an animal, and like an unbroken boco, she was fighting back. The lovers rolled over, and Fae swiped at Yveun’s face, drawing yet more blood. He snarled in kind, digging his own claws down her arm.
Their mouths met before smearing golden blood over each other’s skin.
They were drunk on each other. Coletta watched as her life mate, her king, sexed another woman in a way he had never done to her. His face contorted in bliss; Coletta looked away, having both seen and affirmed enough.