The Alchemists of Loom (Loom Saga #1)(50)

“I will put my trust in you, if you put your trust in me.” The mechanisms of her mind were slow and squealing in warning. “And we’ll both make it through this.”

It was quiet for a long moment, neither of them seeing the present. Cvareh sought the future that was just beyond the horizon, as she drowned in the past.

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I? And we’re wasting time arguing about it.”

Arianna nodded and set herself to organizing their supplies across the table. She needed to be as prepared as she could in the short time she had. She needed to be over-prepared, because the last time she had made such a declaration, it had turned out to be a lie.





19. Leona


The very air itself was different on Loom. It was heavier, as if it carried the essence of the rocks and metals that the people themselves placed so much value in. It was warmer also, and Leona was certain that it made every Fen certifiably mad to wear so many buttons and layers and ruffles.

She wore tight bindings around her hips and chest, petals of decorative fabric floating around her hips. Camile also wore a fitted top, tight to her breast, her stomach bare. Andre had forgone a shirt altogether.

The more clothes one bundled themselves in, the harder it was to move and fight. The Fen gave up practicality for the sake of an insane notion of modesty. Leona could understand the argument for some extra clothes for the fragile race; even without coronas, their skin was thinner, their blood cooler, and they had less resistance to wind and cold built into their bodies. But she thought three shirts were excessive by any stretch.

Leona watched the gray people as they moved through the train station, utterly oblivious to the rank smell of Dragon blood that wafted up from the ground under their feet.

“You are the master of this station. You must know what transpires between its walls.” A dull thud scattered some of the more skittish Fen as Andre slammed the small frame of a man against a wall.

“I-I was not—” The man gasped for air, Andre’s hand tightening around his throat. “—here that day.”

“Then you are useless.” Andre’s hand tensed, his claws punching through the man’s neck on both sides. Crimson blood ran over his fingers, preparing the floor for where the lifeless body fell.

“That’s going to stain, you know.” Camile kicked her feet from where she sat at the ticketing counter. “Their blood isn’t like ours.”

Andre looked at where the blood had spattered his trousers with a grimace. Leona smirked at how he could always forget that fact. Bringing the hand to his mouth, he took a timid lap of the blood.

“Hanging stars! You actually ate it!” Camile howled with laughter at Andre’s offended scowl.

“What did you think it would taste like?” Leona drawled, crossing over to the counter. A small woman quivered behind it, ordered in place by Camile. “Were you here when the King’s Riders fell?”

The woman blubbered for a minute before collecting her words. “I was not.” Leona sighed heavily and Camile swung her feet over the desk. The woman held up her hands, backing against the wall. “But I know what happened. The woman who works the desk on even numbered days of the month was here and she’s my friend and she told me everything. I’ll tell you what I know.”

Leona and Camile exchanged a look.

“Can’t we just kill her and be done with it?” Andre spoke in Royuk. “She’s clearly going to be useless.”

“Let her speak.” Leona stopped him with a palm. She spoke in Fenish so the gray woman would understand her calling off Andre.

“You’re too nice, Leona To.” Andre pouted against the wall. “You never let me have my fun.”

“I let you have too much fun,” she replied in Royuk. “Plus, you can kill her once we have the information we need.” Leona turned back to the woman, shifting her language again. Fenish was soft and delicate, just like the people who it originated from. “Now, what do you know?”

“A Dragon attacked the Riders.”

“Blue skin, orange hair?”

“I think so… He wore a hood, goggles, and mask. But that sounds right.” The woman’s heart raced so loudly, Leona could hear every beat. She was lying through her ugly flat teeth, but Leona knew the Dragon could only have been Cvareh.

“And he had people traveling with him. Tell me about them.”

“Two.” The woman nodded frantically. “A girl—a Raven—with a revolver. Standard issue for initiates in Dortam. I don’t know how she got it.”

That would be Florence. Leona kept her thoughts to herself. But the pasty little Mercury Town man’s information continued to hold up, affirming that the decision to barter with him was a wise one. “And the other?”

The Fenthri looked around nervously. Leona tilted her had to the side in interest. No matter how afraid of them she was, she was more afraid of uttering this one name.

“I can’t say for certain… But the rumor I heard is that it was the blight of New Dortam.”

“The blight of New Dortam?” Leona knew exactly who the woman spoke of, but she was going to make her say it. She wanted to watch this Fenthri squirm, to understand the root of the fear.

“The White Wraith.” The Fenthri’s eyes flicked around like beady little flies, as though the criminal could be summoned with just an utterance.