The Alchemists of Loom (Loom Saga #1)(8)

“Then I may kill you, because I’m the one who cleans the floors.”

“Are you her servant?” Cvareh didn’t think Fenthri kept households. Judging by the woman’s laugh, he was right.

“Grind my gears, of course not.” She shook her rounded face, her boxy shoulders slowing from her mirth. “I’m her initiate.”

“Initiate?” Cvareh frowned. The outline of a raven had been tattooed on her cheek in black, almost blending in with her granite-colored skin. “You’re both Ravens then?”

“No.” Her demeanor changed completely. The girl regarded him coolly when she had been almost welcoming prior. “I am a Revolver. And my master is a Rivet.”

Now that made no sense. One of them was an unmarked illegal, out of place in the world, and the other was claiming to be something other than what she had been marked. “Assuming that’s true, a Rivet couldn’t teach a Revolver.”

“Indeed she can. And she is certain to get me help when her knowledge has gaps. We’re in the heart of the Revolvers’ Guild, after all.” The woman grinned. Cvareh continued to be unnerved by the image of flat teeth making a perfect line.

“It is against Dragon law to be taught outside your guild. Any marked who desert their duty could be punished by death. Going unmarked is no better.” Cvareh didn’t actually care. He was hardly about to uphold the laws when he was the one seeking out the Fenthri rebels at the Alchemists’ Guild.

“No one in Old Dortam would turn either of us in,” the girl hummed. “And people in New Dortam have more important things to worry about when the White Wraith shows up than the fact that she isn’t marked.”

The sun fell from Cvareh’s sky at three words. “The White Wraith?”

The young woman paused her ministrations at a back table. “Who did you think you were traveling with?”

Cvareh honestly hadn’t a clue. But his guess wouldn’t have been New Dortam’s most infamous criminal.





3. Florence


“I’m Florence, by the way,” she introduced herself to the yet-hovering Dragon. “Take off your shoes and sit at the table. It’ll be the easiest to wipe down.”

The walking rainbow twisted off his ankle-length patent black boots and crossed over to the table in the corner of their flat by the small kitchen. At least he did as he was told. That would increase his chances of Ari not killing him before she got that boon.

Florence’s master had stormed into their home like an engine off its tracks, demanding the largest cloak they owned and rambling something about a boon. It wasn’t too long until Florence pieced together what exactly had her in such a tizzy. But by the time Ari had ranted off enough facts for her to do so, she had already left. Florence hadn’t had much time to inquire deeply about the nature of this agreement, but whatever it was, she trusted her teacher implicitly. Ari always knew what she was doing.

Florence finished hanging Ari’s harness and coat then crossed to the kitchen. She felt the Dragon’s eyes on her as she rummaged through the upper cupboard.

“Here.”

“What is it?” The Dragon inspected her peace offering skeptically.

“A cookie.” Florence shoved one in her mouth for show. And then a second one, just because the first tasted so good.

“Why are you giving it to me?”

“Who questions a cookie?” She laughed, placing the confection on the table for the Dragon to decide if he wanted it or not. “But we will no longer be friends if you waste it.”

“Are we friends?” There was genuine surprise in his inflection.

“That’s your choice, Dragon,” she called back. Florence left the truth of it—that if he did anything to hurt her Ari, all bets were off—unsaid.

“I’m Cvareh Xin’Ryu Soh,” he replied quickly.

Florence glanced over her shoulder, looking at the man with the unreasonably long name. He wasn’t so different from a Fenthri, really. Instead of gray, black, and white, he was colorful. Like the paintings she had seen of the foliage called flowers. There was his color, then, and his pointed ears, elongated canines, talons, and slits for eyes.

But he had two arms, two legs, and one head. He spoke with the same sounds they did and moved in similar ways. She gave him a small smile of acknowledgment.

Florence eased the bedroom door shut behind her. A giant bed greeted her, still a mess from when she’d woken not long ago. Florence turned right and focused on the footed copper bath that stood steaming under a large window.

Ari was submerged up to her neck, her white hair slicked back and shining in the light. Florence smiled, tiptoeing over.

“I hear you.”

“I know you do.” Florence laughed brightly.

“What is the Dragon doing?”

“Eating a cookie.”

“You gave him a cookie?” Ari opened one eye. “That’s generous of you.”

“Is it?”

“You barely share your cookies with me,” Ari muttered, closing her eyes again. “I’m going to think you like Dragons more than me.”

“But you don’t like cookies at all.” Florence scooped salt scrub into her palms. She plucked Ari’s hand from the bathwater and massaged it over her skin, soothing the calluses created by her gold lines.