The Rebels of Gold (Loom Saga #3)(42)
She knew Arianna hated having the attention on her. But that was what Loom needed right now. And for all Florence loved Arianna, she loved Loom even more.
“You are right. We cannot stand against your Dragons as we are now. But as Perfect Chimera we are even stronger than your Riders. We can be more complete than even you. We can have all magics, fly gliders, and use corona.” Florence took another step forward, raising her gun once more at the giant of a man. She could see in her periphery his muscles twitch with rage. Was it too much to hope she could goad him enough? To cause him to release the glider, relinquish his corona, and lunge for her? Even if she died the most horrible death, someone would get the shot on his head.
“And there are a lot more of us, than there are of you,” she continued. “We outnumber you. It’s why you regulated our breeding, killed us off.”
“Foolish Fenthri. You regulated your own breeding long before I did,” he snarled. “I was saving you by regulating your ridiculous expenditure of resources.”
“The Harvesters would have seen that soon enough.” Florence had every faith as long as men like Powell were in the guild. Plus, it wasn’t as if she could be proven wrong. No one could ever know what would have happened to Loom had the Dragons not intervened. “And then, when you caught wind of a Perfect Chimera, of the Philosopher’s Box being made, you tried to steal her work and kill them all.
“But she survived.” Florence pulled back the hammer of her gun. “And no matter how many times you try to kill her, you just can’t seem to land the final blow.” She spoke as loud as she could. She hoped everyone would hear her words. Because it was well possible that she was about to die. “That is the power of one Perfect Chimera. Now, what do you think will happen if you face an entire world of them? Perhaps you’re right in wanting to talk peace, but you shouldn’t be offering it—you should be asking us for it.”
His mouth twitched, his snarl widened, and for one brief second Florence thought she had him.
But the Dragon King hadn’t lorded over them for so long by being clumsy. He eased back on his glider, hands still firmly on the handles. “Shoot me, child. Let it be known to the world that it was your gun that heralded Loom’s ultimate demise.”
He was bluffing. He had to be. Florence locked her elbow to make sure her hand didn’t shake. The revolver felt heavier than it ever had. All I have to do is squeeze the trigger, repeated over and over in her head like a mantra. It wound up strength that flowed into her forearm, then her hand, then her fingers.
She didn’t know what she thought she would really accomplish. At the very least, she’d show everyone that she did not back down. That Fenthri no longer cowered before Dragons.
“Don’t shoot, Florence.”
All her focus was broken, and Florence whipped her head around to stare down Arianna.
“You offered us peace?” Arianna addressed the Dragon King.
“No . . .” Florence breathed. What was Arianna doing? Would she even think of handing over Loom to the Dragons?
“Take heed, Fen. Even the woman you deem ‘perfect’ wishes to talk before war.” Florence felt the weight of Yveun’s stare as he spoke. But her eyes were on Arianna. She didn’t look anywhere else. “Yes, I offer you peace as long as you subject utterly to me.”
“Give us three days to destroy our weapons and return to our respective guilds. When you return, you will see us ready to serve you.”
This was not the Arianna Florence knew. Rage shot through her mind like a cannon ball.
“Very well. Let it be known that I am a most merciful god! You have three days. And should I not find all of you back where you belong, ready to serve, I will burn your world to the ground. I will give no quarter. You will all perish.”
From behind, she heard the glider take to the sky again. Florence was aware the Dragon King had left as keenly as she was aware that she would forever regret not taking the shot, not trying everything possible to kill him at the one opportunity she may ever have.
Florence stared at the woman who had been her mentor, her role model, her friend . . . and saw someone she no longer recognized.
Arianna
Her whole body felt heavy. Phantom pains ached in her joints at the mere sight of Yveun. Her mind echoed with the sounds of her flesh tearing under his claws, and howls of rage at the man she wanted dead more than she wanted to draw breath, more than she wanted to tinker and invent.
Arianna was too eager to turn away from the space the Dragon King had just occupied.
No one impeded her short progress back to the guild hall. Part of her wanted to collapse under the weight of all her memories, every misfortune in her life that the Dragon King had orchestrated. Part of her wanted to personally wait where she had just stood for three days until she could tear apart the Dragon King limb by limb.
If she even could . . .
Doubt tightened around her throat in the shape of Yveun’s claws and Arianna didn’t know how to dislodge it from her neck, where it was slowly suffocating her.
“Arianna!” Florence’s voice was the only thing sharp enough to pierce the shell that encased the vortex of her thoughts.
She turned to see the girl sprinting toward her. Florence skidded and half-skipped to a stop. Her fist shot out, grabbing Arianna’s coat, jerking her away from the staircase she’d been about to use for escape. It felt like being thrown back on a stage she had been trying to avoid for days.