The Dragons of Nova (Loom Saga #2)(82)
36. Arianna
They spent most of the night on that island.
It had been a long time since Arianna had covered her concerns with the warmth and flesh of another. She’d never make a habit of it, but there was something to be said for it. To want and be wanted. To need, to desire, to delight in another and feel that same delight. They moved well together, for a copious number of reasons, and Arianna turned off her mind and let herself simply be.
The flowers bloomed for only a short period of time, but they didn’t need light for the acts they performed. When the time came to mount the boco again, she found herself lamenting the end of the short quiet in the storm that was her life. She dared to say she enjoyed the peace she’d come to find with Cvareh.
But that was precisely the problem. They were at peace only when they didn’t think about what their unconventional relationship really meant. The moment she dedicated thought to it was the moment she realized its true folly. They had pulled the trigger and the bullet could not be caught. It was shot to kill, and they would both be right in its path. The question was, did she push him out of the way, and shoulder the pain on her own? Or did she pull him before her?
Arianna rested her cheek in the middle of Cvareh’s back, watching the clouds swirl effortlessly beneath them. She wished she could see Loom, however small and insignificant it was from Nova’s vantage. She missed her home and its industrial sensibilities.
There had been no word or rumor from Loom. The fact didn’t surprise her, given the logistics of communication between the two realms, but she worried for Florence. The girl was no doubt involved in the rebellion and the very fact put her in danger. Arianna hoped she was merely oiling guns in the Alchemists’ Guild hall. But knowing Florence, the likelihood of that was slim.
The world would only ever be safe when the Dragons no longer attempted to rule Loom. For as long as they did, Loom would bend and break, rebellions would creep up, the dream of bygone days would flower into bloody conflict. She knew she had reached her decision when they landed in the manor.
“It’s quiet,” Cvareh observed as they headed for her chambers.
“Perhaps they are still in Easwin?” Arianna proposed, quickly changing the topic to what weighed on her. “Cvareh, I have decided that I will help your sister.”
He stopped in his tracks, leaving her to pause as well, a hand on the doorknob.
“Ari?” The Dragon was uncertain, searching. It was as if she’d given him a truth he deemed far too good to be true. But all Arianna could see was that she was giving him certain war.
“It’s not for her.”
“Who then?” he asked tentatively.
“Florence.” He visibly deflated at the name. “Helping your sister will be the best chance of this rebellion she’s put so much stock in seeing success, as long as Petra doesn’t betray us and try to rule Loom when she has the throne she so wants.”
“Logical. I’d expect no less.”
Arianna sighed softly. “It’s for you as well, idiot.”
He brought his eyes back to hers, hopeful.
“You don’t think I actually trust Petra, do you?” Arianna took a deep breath and braced herself. What she was about to say would no doubt rattle them both. “I trust you, Cvareh. If nothing else I trust that you will do what must be done.”
“I will, I promise you. But Petra won’t betray you, either.” He eagerly followed her into her quarters as she made her way to her desk.
“Good, because I will need some supplies.” She grabbed for the journal that was mostly still blank inside, the others scribbled across with random notes, maps of the manor, and other postulations.
Her pen paused as she thought a long moment. What did Sophie say she needed? What would help the rebellion the most? Arianna wasn’t born to be a leader and she didn’t want to be. She was born to create tools and was content to let others figure out their use.
“Yes, anything. You know I will give you anything,” he repeated his dangerous offer.
Arianna withheld scolding him. She would save her boon for as long as she could. She would use it when she had no other option. When it was something he wouldn’t give her willingly, or tried to be subversive about.
“Those flowers, I will need them.” Merely thinking about crafting the Philosopher’s Box again set the hairs on her neck on end. With every pen stroke and mental note made, she felt like she was writing the world’s future.
“The Flowers of Agandi? Why?”
“The traitor. He brought them once… I thought he was a simpleton, bringing back something for the sheer beauty of it, a memento of home. But it was a stroke of luck.” She laughed at the irony of her word choice. “We discovered that they have a special property in their pollen that can be used as a type of tempering on gold. It helps keeps magic fresh and rejuvenated.”
Cvareh’s eyes widened. The man was smarter than she gave him credit for, sometimes. He was beginning to piece together why she needed what she claimed. “But it wears off when the flower closes, or dies.”
“It does, but if the pollen is tempered properly, the properties stay,” Arianna explained. “It keeps the blood from turning black. It removes the strain of the magic.”
“This is genius,” Cvareh whispered by her shoulder.