The Rebels of Gold (Loom Saga #3)(121)

There was practice in her movements. Life had prepared her with an unofficial training to do what needed to be done, even when doing so was impossibly hard. She had dedicated her life to fulfilling her duty, and the dreams of others. It should be instinct, putting her wants second and doing what must be done. But all her preparation wasn’t enough now that the moment was upon her. Walking away, what should have been the easiest task of all, had never demanded more strength. For, if she stayed, he would focus on her. He would defer to her. He would hesitate, and pause, and steal moments with her. While his time was what she wanted to steal more than any other thing, it was a heist she wouldn’t allow herself to make.

“Where are you going?” His confused, questioning gaze made it all the harder.

“Back to Loom. My job here is done.” Arianna attempted to make her escape.

“You can stay.”

“I don’t belong here.” She didn’t know why she was indulging argument, but her feet had gone into mutiny against her brain. They were in cahoots with her ears to hear what he’d say next.

“You have a place here,” he insisted.

“Cvareh, she’s—”

“She’s the one we owe the world to,” Cvareh snapped at Cain’s protest. “I am the Dono and I can decree it.”

“You don’t get it.” She looked back at him and, for the first time ever, was thankful for every hardship she had endured. For it had all hardened her enough to survive this parting. It had given her enough training to turn her face, and her heart, to stone. “Cvareh, this is not something you as a Dragon can decree. I am made of steam. I am hot-blooded, strong and free. I was cast in steel, on Loom, and that maker’s mark is not something you can expunge from my soul.

“I don’t belong here,” she finished. It was said with almost enough conviction to fool herself.

“You belong at my side.” Arianna watched him deflate with every word, and had to tell herself that what she was doing was for the best.

“I do not belong here, and you know it.”

“What will you do instead?”

“There’s always something to steal.” Arianna smiled nonchalantly, as if one option was as good as the next. If he dug in his heels now, that carefully crafted fa?ade would crack. She would find some excuse to stay, she knew.

But her bluff was good enough that Cvareh didn’t call it. He stared right back at her until she could take it no longer.

Arianna turned and walked out of his room, past all the Xin gathered in the hall, as though nothing in the world were bothering her. Every bit of ease on her exterior hid the heartache inside, as she left behind the Dragon King she loved.





Florence


There was no weapon like hope, and no ammunition for it like good news.

Word of the victory up on Nova spread faster and thicker than the clouds overhead. Helen, who had been up with Arianna, had whispered back to Will—their decision to get Dragon ears and set up a whisperlink hadn’t been the least bit surprising to Florence. Will informed the rest of the Queen’s minions, who ultimately dispersed the news to Shannra.

Florence knew the moment Shannra had appeared in her office that there had been victory, just by her expression alone. And because she had already had the information from someone else.

“You already know.”

“Emma was here not minutes before you left. Word funneled through the Revolvers who were up with House Xin when it happened.” Florence looked back at the list of tasks she’d begun drafting, already several items deep.

“We have claimed victory, and you are still busy at work.” Shannra looped around the desk, draping her arms over Florence’s shoulders.

“It is only the beginning—freedom is only the beginning for us. Now, we must rebuild Loom, not as it was but as it could be.” Florence was having a hard time deciding what to prioritize. Everything seemed like it needed to happen at once. And when everything was a priority, nothing was a priority.

“There is to be another Tribunal?” Shannra had no doubt focused on the first item on Florence’s list.

“At Garre. Emma is spreading the word now.”

Shannra sighed, though the noise was without any sort of real weight. “What is it with you and Tribunals?”

“I am a vicar, after all.” Florence ran a hand up Shannra’s arm, starting at where her hand met the desk, helping prop her up, all the way to her shoulder and back.

“You are the Vicar Revolver.” Shannra turned her head back to Florence. “Your place is in Dortam, not Garre.”

“And so it shall be,” Florence affirmed. “Once we are all in agreement, every vicar will return to their rightful home to begin rebuilding.”

“Will you return home alone?” Shannra asked, staring out the window behind Florence’s desk in what had become her makeshift office.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Florence didn’t bother concealing a smile. “You will accompany me, if you so choose, as a Master Revolver.”

“Don’t think you can win me over with titles.” Shannra tilted her head coyly.

“What can I win you over with then?”

“I asked you once if we could share a flat in Dortam when all this was over. You never answered.” Shannra stared her down, as if trying to pin Florence with her eyes. “It’s all over now. I need an answer.”