The Dragons of Nova (Loom Saga #2)(78)
“No,” he whispered. “I won’t let you have a reason to.”
Her instant rage at him arguing with her about what she would and wouldn’t do was stilled.
“We will find this man, and then I will see you kill him.”
“You would let me kill a Xin?” She was rightly skeptical.
“A Xin who takes the name Rafansi and works for the Dragon King against our interests should not be alive.” Cvareh smiled the smallest smile of hopeful—foolishly hopeful—encouragement. “I may not be as good of a fighter as you, Arianna. But I have other uses. I can be quite good at finding information. People just say things around me they shouldn’t, like they forget I’m there entirely. I will help you find this man, and I will give him to you for judgment of his crimes.”
Her brows furrowed and her lips parted just enough to let out her speechless shock. The hands he held so fiercely were the very thing that would allow him to fulfill his promise. He was ready to give her everything she’d wanted since her world ended.
But if he did, would she be asking him to sacrifice one of his own ideals? Would their relationship survive her asking him to deliver one of his own for slaughter? She was afraid it wouldn’t, despite his earnest insistence. Arianna stared into Cvareh’s eyes, shining bright and gold against the darkness, and saw something that might just be worth more to her than her vengeance.
Those eyes were oblivious to her struggle, and easily swung away, looking to the field. “It’s starting.”
“What is?” Arianna looked as well, but her answer didn’t come from Cvareh.
As the moon reached its apex, the whispering reeds they’d walked through to the temple slowly straightened. Their egg-shaped ends peeled away, unfurling long pedals of red, lined in gold, from within. Their wavy edges tapered to points that curved opposite their center.
A fine mist, like the afterglow of neon, clouded the air above them as the plants’ superfine pollen was released into the wind. The rock before her was awash in light and magic. It soothed her weariness from the day; it gave her strength. She felt as though she could live forever if she laid among them.
Arianna stood.
“What are they?” she breathed, stepping toward the blooms. There was no mistaking it.
“The flowers of Agendi.” Cvareh was at her side, but he may as well have been back on Ruana. Arianna’s mind was moving a thousand veca a second, whirring with new possibilities. “They’re particular about where they can grow… So they’re found only here and on Lysip. They’re said to bring good luck. Do you like them?”
Arianna stepped into the cosmos that floated before her, a dance of magic turned into a fog of the whole spectrum of light. They were unmistakable. Their power even more potent than the last time she’d seen them.
“Like isn’t the right word…” Arianna trailed off into her own thoughts.
He would take her mannerisms as awe or wonder, and Arianna would let him. It was a safer assumption than the truth that now confronted her. Did she ask Cvareh for the heart of the man who had betrayed her past, at the risk of it damaging all they were, and especially when she now knew he could get her the resources she needed for the box?
Or did she give in once more and let herself dream, and perhaps even look to the possibilities of the future?
35. Florence
The door to her room slammed open, waking Florence with a start. Powell stood in the frame, his dust-colored hair seeming to fray at the ends with stress. Panting, a mess, he crossed to the bed in a long stride.
“Florence, we have to leave.”
“What? Why?” She shied away from his grip, uneasy in the man’s presence. She’d avoided and outright ignored him for two days since he had shown her the Dragon harvesting rooms. She didn’t know how she could feel about someone who seemed to revere Dragons for saving the world and endorse treating them worse than livestock in the same breath.
“There aren’t many trains left and they’re filling.” He reached for her upper arm, yanking her from the bed.
“Trains?” Florence ripped herself from his grip. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you must be seriously confused.” She stood her ground, pointing at the still gaping door from where he had entered. “Now leave my room.”
“They’re going to blow the guild.”
“What?” It was as if she had half the powders needed for a canister and he was expecting her to produce a complete shot.
“We have to get out before they do. There’s not much time.” Powell reached for her again and she sidestepped away. He cursed loudly. “Pitchforks and sickles, woman, if you want to stay, then fine. I didn’t have to come for you anyway.”
He started for the door. Florence stared at his back in a daze. Even if she didn’t fully understand what was happening, she knew desperation when she saw it. She knew what fight or flight looked like in someone who was struggling to fall into their training rather than chaos and cowardice.
Whatever Powell thought was going on—right or not—he really believed they were all in danger.
“Powell, wait.” Florence grabbed the back of his shirt. She regarded him with a glare, hoping to make it clear that she was still very aware of the uneasy terms they were on despite their situation. “When you say they’re going to blow the Guild…” she tried to speak slowly and evenly, coaxing him into some sense of calm that could bring order from what seemed to be a tempest of thoughts raging in his mind.