The Dragons of Nova (Loom Saga #2)(11)
Three simple words evoked such shock in the Dragon that she thought his neck might snap from turning to look at her. Arianna curled her mouth into a wide smile, baring her teeth. His golden eyes tried to dissect a lie from her proclamation where there was none.
Good. He’d heard of her.
Cain turned forward rigidly, his whole body tense under her hands. Arianna relaxed away, resting on the saddle once more. She was more dangerous when her palms were free to grip her daggers at will. Not that he expressly knew that, but she’d relish keeping him guessing. Predictability was the death of fear.
The gray stone of the mountain arched beside them, unfurling like a grand banner. And the gem of that banner was what Arianna could only assume to be the Xin manor. She worked to keep her face passive, just in case Cain turned to face her. She had only a glimpse of the mountainside structure during her harrowing flight in. Now, it grew before her, inviting and impossible.
Stone arched and curved, spinning around towers and lacing between walkways. There were stretches of woven masonry that served no other purpose than aesthetics, as they were clearly too thin and brittle to be supports or walkways. Raw crystal or glass had been cut into it, filtering the sunlight into rainbows upon the walls.
The boco banked again, beginning to descend. Numbers upon numbers whirred in Ari’s head as she stared at every arch and tower. The calculations kept coming up as impossible, time and again. This structure shouldn’t be standing. It should crumble under its own weight, or be toppled by one of the mighty gusts that ripped around the mountainside.
Arianna lived in a world of calculation on Loom. She understood the laws of nature, what could and couldn’t be done. But she was no longer on Loom. She was in a land of endless waterfalls, flying bird mounts, inverted mountains, floating islands, and castles of stone that were held aloft in the sky with the same ease as a paper plane in a breeze.
She dismounted with purpose, her legs steady despite her knees having turned to gelatin. She was Arianna, the White Wraith; the hem of her white coat flapped around her calves, and she would walk like the bloody god she was, come to pass judgment on this backward land. As if sensing her mental declaration, the Dragons who were waiting to greet them in the jeweled courtyard they landed within hovered in the shade of an upper galley. They looked uncertainly from her to Cain, begging silently for some kind of explanation for her presence.
Just for effect, Arianna lifted her goggles onto her forehead, showing off her pilfered Dragon eyes like rare and coveted gemstones.
“Cain’Da.” A woman was the bravest among them. No surprise. She kept her eyes turned downward as she approached, cloth draped over her arm. Arianna watched as the sapphire-skinned woman peeled his fitted riding jacket from his bare chest, holding a coat void of sleeves as an equally pointless alternative.
Arianna folded her hands over her chest. “Can’t even dress yourself?”
“Come, Chimera.” Cain looked at her sideways.
“Arianna.” She didn’t budge.
“If I must earn my name, you must earn yours,” he snarled, baring his teeth.
Arianna curled her lips in reply. She may not have the fearsome canines of a Dragon, but she knew how to speak their language. One of the servants balked at the sight. Unfortunately, it didn’t have the same effect on Cain.
“Do you think you can intimidate me?” He strolled over nonchalantly. “Do you know how many I’ve killed?”
“Forced to guess, I would estimate the number to be less than not nearly enough to make me scared.” A hand curled around the hilt of her dagger. “You’ve heard of me, so you must know what I do to Dragons.”
“And yet here you are, on Nova.” Cain motioned to the air around him. He waited for a retort she was loath not to have. He took a step forward, encroaching on her personal space. “That’s what I thought. I don’t know why you’re here, White Wraith.” More than one Dragon waiting in the wings visibly tensed. Even in Fennish, her moniker was known to them. “But you’re in my home now. And while you are here, you will be an obedient and obliging guest.”
He reached for her chin. To do what, Arianna didn’t know. But the motion felt sickly condescending following his declaration. She didn’t hesitate to draw her dagger. The golden blade was still ringing from its sheath when it sliced into his flesh. Sharp and precise, she cut off the tip of the offending finger before it could touch her.
Every Dragon around them, all five of them, had their claws out in an instant. They lunged from the shadows with snarls and growls, like dogs let off their chains. Cain held up his still bleeding hand, the fingertip already re-growing. The world seemed to hold its breath with his singular command. All except for Arianna’s heaving chest.
“I admire the ferocity. But if you turn your blade against me again, I will not stay my talons.”
“You can’t kill me.” She called his bluff. If Cvareh was to be believed, his sister—the head of House Xin—needed Arianna a lot more than she needed them.
At least, that’s what she’d let them believe.
The truth was, if Florence’s rebellion was to succeed, they needed the Dragons’ help as much as the Dragons needed theirs. The rebellion needed Dragon organs, the ability to transport things quickly, fighting power and an established base on Nova. And a certain resource for the Philosopher’s Box that Arianna was determined to find in her time on the floating islands.