The Rebels of Gold (Loom Saga #3)(107)

“The Dragons do enjoy their blood sport.” Arianna’s mind drowned her in images of Cvareh fighting—fighting and losing.

“Something about House Tam no longer assisting Rok—”

“What?”

Will repeated himself and, then, added, “Helen said to make sure you knew.”

Arianna’s eyes turned skyward at the battle that no doubt raged on just beyond the clouds. She’d learned of House Tam’s influence on Nova as the silent enforcers; if they were no longer assisting House Rok, that meant power could shift—was, in fact, already shifting.

“Will, see Helen is outfitted with more guns, however many we have. Take the airship to Ter.3.2 and gather any from there as well.” Her mouth moved fast, but not as fast as her mind. “Then, bring up all the Perfect Chimera who are ready and willing.”

“All of them?”

“A constant stream.” They had the manpower. If Tam was backing out from House Rok—for whatever reason—they had the numbers to overwhelm them. “It’s time to strike.”

“Where are you going?” Will motioned to the trolley approaching down the narrow rail.

“I’m headed up first. It’ll be faster for me to get to the gliders this way.” She paused on the edge of the platform, her clip already flying toward a far steam pipe. “And tell Helen that if she wants Louie’s ‘kingdom’ then it’s hers. But the title is mine.”

“More than fair.” Will gave a solemn nod.

Arianna returned the gesture a moment before her winch box sprung to life, pulling her in sweeping arcs around the outside of Garre to the hangar where gliders were kept.





Florence


“Welcome back, Florence,” Emma greeted her the moment she stepped off the train.

“I should take your presence to mean that something has gone wrong?” Florence asked, barely taking time to sling her bag over her shoulder before they began walking off the platform.

“Quite the contrary, actually. The first batch of weapons have all been tested and not a moment too soon. Will arrived not long before you to pick them up.” Emma seemed pleased to report, and Florence was equally pleased to hear. Her tone shifted, however, on the next note. “It seems the timeline has been pushed forward to get as many Perfect Chimera to Nova as possible.”

“I trust you facilitated this transaction to be as quick and smooth as possible?” Florence gave no indication that she had not heard of nor approved things happening faster. Either Bernard had been included, or he had been told. No matter, it was too late now to change it and Florence silently praised Willard and Ethel for being able to accommodate the change.

“I did.”

“Good. I’m ready to see an end to this war.”

“As we all are.”

Florence gave a nod of agreement and produced a folio from her satchel. “I have new schematics here for the next round of manufacturing.”

“Another round of edits?”

“I have no doubt that there will be some moaning over having to re-tool the line again.” And I don’t care, Florence left unsaid. “But there is no point in making something unless we continually strive to make it better, make it right.”

“Agreed.” Florence believed Emma stood behind her on the matter. It was the Rivets who would protest.

“Inform the Rivets that these modifications come from Arianna.” Florence was still becoming accustomed to Arianna’s name meaning something to random strangers, but she’d use it to her benefit without reservation.

“Right away.”

“Take it on ahead. I’d like to put my things down and change out of my traveling clothes. I won’t be long.”

Emma gave a tip of her cap. It had a short, leather, rounded brim with a band over top and, unlike a top hat, the fabric sort of flopped over on one side. Florence had been admiring it since she’d stepped off the train and immediately regretted not asking Emma who had stitched such an interesting headpiece.

Later. Right now, her priority was elsewhere. It had nothing to do with changing her clothes or dropping her bag. No, she was on the lookout for a certain someone she had an insatiable urge to see in private.

The door to their adopted abode was unlocked. They had never made a habit of locking it, so Florence thought little of it when she entered the foyer. “Shannra?”

There was a long moment of silence and, just when Florence was about to leave, she heard floorboards creak from an upper floor. The building they had assumed as theirs was three stories. Foyer and living spaces on the first floor, workshops on the second, bedrooms on the third.

“Shannra, it’s me.” Florence called again as she rounded the first flight of stairs, not wanting to startle the woman if she’d somehow not fully heard the first time. Their respective work tables were vacant, which left the third floor as her only remaining option. She’d been hoping to get the woman in bed, and it seemed Shannra would make it easy on her.

Florence paused halfway up the second flight of stairs, when she heard the floor creaking again. The sound came with a second’s worth of hesitation.

Something was off.

The floorboards weren’t moving in the rhythms Florence had come to associate with her lover. Their syncopation, combined with the silence and . . .something else . . . something familiar…