The Dragons of Nova (Loom Saga #2)(21)
“Naturally.”
“Very well.” The conversation picked up speed like a locomotive down the tracks. “You want more gold? Go and fetch it yourself.”
“Where is the nearest refinery?” Florence didn’t know the first thing about stealing, but she’d figure it out if she had to. It’s what Arianna would’ve done.
“Ter.1.”
“Ter.5 has no refineries?” Florence balked.
“The Dragon King didn’t want us to have such easy access to gold or reagents.” They both took a silent moment to curse the King’s pragmatism. “We have an allotment that comes along the main tracks through the Skeleton Forest. But it’s not enough.”
“So you need another shipment.”
“One outside of Dragon sanction,” Sophie affirmed. “There’s another route, but it’s never used. It was shut down for winding too deep into the forest and too close to endwig haunts.”
“I’m not a Raven.” Florence was ready to tattoo the words on her opposite cheek.
“I have secured a Raven to run the engine. I have Alchemists to speak on my behalf. I have a Rivet to ensure things run smoothly along the way.”
Florence knew where she was headed before Sophie even finished.
“I do not have a spare Revolver to fight off any who might seek to sabotage the mission. It is not called the Skeleton Forest for nothing. I would not like to see this costly excursion reduced to bones in the woods.”
It was neat, tidy, and convenient. Sophie won either way. If Florence succeeded, the Vicar would have more resources and a goal accomplished. Giving Florence a little gold in return was nothing in the wake of that particular victory. If Florence failed, she would be one of those corpses, reduced to nothing more than bones licked clean by the Endwig.
“Do you think I can do it?” Florence was compelled to ask.
“Of course,” Sophie praised brightly. “After all, you’re the multi-talented Raven, not Raven but Revolver.”
Florence took a deep breath and gave Sophie the benefit of the doubt. Florence’s failure would mean the death of her Alchemists. It made no sense for her to be hopeful for it or indifferent to it.
“Then I’ll do it.”
“Wonderful. Plan to leave within the fortnight. I’ll spread the word that you’re to have everything you need to prepare.”
Finally, a gear turned smoothly for Florence. “Thank you.”
“Oh, and Florence,” Sophie stopped her just as she was about to depart. “I think it goes without saying that this is quite a dangerous mission.”
Florence knew that, but she nodded anyway.
“Should you fail, it will mean your death.”
There was the whisper of a threat ghosting around Sophie’s words, a certainty that couldn’t be known unless a promise was being given. Florence kept her suspicion to herself, not wanting to unreasonably accuse the Vicar Alchemist of telling her outright that her options were to die on the mission, or die upon her unsuccessful return. Florence searched Sophie’s eyes for something more, something else. But there was nothing beyond careful calculation glittering in their depths.
9. Arianna
Arianna wished she had Florence’s penchant for explosives. If she did, she would’ve long since slipped a small disk bomb into Cain’s pocket. For one, she liked the man about as much as she enjoyed chewing on rusty nails. But more than that, she couldn’t stand the monotony their days had fallen into. It was a very Revolver notion for her, but stripped screws, she’d blow it all halfway to Ter.5 just to see something happen.
Breakfast came promptly with the dawn. Cain hand delivered it, seemingly the only one authorized to interact with her on a personal basis. The first few mornings he nearly scared her into a rage at the sound of someone entering her room. The next few mornings, she began to sleep through his arrival, offering no thank you nor note of his efforts on her behalf. The forced lack of appreciation became more normal with each passing day until sleeping through his coming and going became natural.
Ari still stirred at the sound of someone entering her space. Her hand closed around the hilt of her dagger that she kept under her pillow on instinct. But ritual won out the second the familiar scent of wet earth filled her nose, and she relaxed. Cain never did anything that would warrant her drawing her weapon.
Around lunch, he would come to her and weave a tight illusion over her that shifted her appearance into the colors and more extreme angles of Dragon skin and bone. Arianna would stare at her brightly colored form in the windows and mirrors of the Xin manor as she explored with Cain in tow. It was an unnatural shade layered atop her, a weightless shroud that was nearly suffocating to all that she was.
But it was the only way she could escape her room. Cvareh had made Petra’s will clear the last time he’d delivered her back after her second escape; Arianna’s wandering would not be tolerated, given the secret nature of her presence. And, as much as she wanted to delight in putting the Dragons in their places, the truth was she had no ground to stand on for the matter. If Arianna fought, she would only make it so far before being violently subdued.
The foolishness of her impulsive decision to come to Nova weighed on her more with every passing hour, crushing her with each day. She had no route back to Loom. She knew little of the Dragon’s society and couldn’t even navigate without causing a fuss for no other reason than the shade of her skin. Escape on her own wasn’t enough; she wouldn’t leave after spending this long on Nova without some kind of success, and if she was to accomplish anything she needed to regain some of her sovereignty.