The Rebels of Gold (Loom Saga #3)(49)
It was one odd relationship to the next.
The halls were washed in shadows, and every footstep she took toward Arianna’s room was elongated by a quiet echo. All the chaos was happening downstairs, people uprooting themselves from what fragile peace they had managed to scrape together in a few days since everyone had amassed at Ter.0. But up here, there was only silence—silence and Florence’s thoughts.
She wondered if she should feel guilty for how she had treated Arianna.
Because she didn’t.
Florence wanted answers. The uncertain world that surrounded her owed her nothing. She feared that if she did not take the chances that presented themselves, as they presented themselves, they would be forever lost. All of life’s events, loaded into the chamber of a gun, and it all came down to having the courage to squeeze the trigger before the shot was lost. She would not lose this opportunity to speak with her mentor one more time. She would not be relegated to silence, like when Arianna had up and left for Nova, giving Florence no other choice but to swallow her curiosity and hope not to choke on it.
But Arianna was not in her room, leaving Florence to wander the tower in search of her wayward mentor.
As expected, Florence eventually found Arianna in the remnants of one of the Rivets’ workshops. Unlike her own workshop, this one was filled to the brim, all manner of gears and tools lining the walls. The tang of metal was sharp on her nose, cut with the warmer scents of grease and oil.
Arianna looked up promptly when she arrived, her Dragon ears no doubt anticipating her arrival for some time now, which explained the lack of surprise on her mentor’s face.
Florence leaned in the door frame, folded her arms over her chest, and waited. Arianna stared back, and neither said anything. Time stretched on and, as much as Florence didn’t want to be the first one to speak, she wanted to waste her time a lot less.
“Ari, we should talk,” she said with a sigh.
“Do you really think I am not loyal to Loom?”
Another sigh. “No. May I come in?”
Arianna motioned to the stool across from her and Florence accepted it. She didn’t touch any of the various tools and parts scattered across the table, keeping her hands folded in her lap instead.
“Why did you tell me not to shoot?”
“You know the answer to that.”
“I want to hear it,” Florence demanded.
“There will be people, at times, you cannot demand answers from.” Arianna was hesitant, but acquiesced to her demand anyway. “Because a shot would’ve done nothing against his corona.”
“You don’t think I know that? I was trying to coerce him off the glider. If I had, with that many guns on him, we could’ve taken him down and then . . .”
“Then what?” Arianna pressed when Florence’s thought trailed off. “Then we would win? The war is ended before it begins? Freedom reigns on Loom and we celebrate?” Arianna put her gearbox down, which was open to reveal the guts within. “No, Flor. I told you about the Dragon houses when I first arrived. If you had killed the king, there is another who would inherit his throne. And if you killed her, there is another after that. And another, and another . . . All of Dragon society is based around the idea of someone always being in power. One man or one woman always being on top. It’s a pyramid you can’t topple.”
The words were a bitter potion of truth and they turned Florence’s thoughts sour. “Then what are we supposed to do? Roll over and accept them as our masters and oppressors?”
“We must work with them.”
Florence’s stomach churned at the idea, but she forced herself to think logically. She’d been rash since the moment she’d seen the king. Calmed now, she could see that it was Arianna’s composure that had kept things from splintering too soon, that had given them time to organize and flee. Again, it came down to Arianna; she still had much to learn from the snow-haired woman.
“You mean Cvareh and his sister?”
Arianna nodded. “His family, the Xin, is fighting against the Dragon King as best they can. But like Loom, they aren’t strong enough.”
“Why?” Florence wasn’t keen yet on the idea of allying with another faction getting crushed by the king. They needed strength.
“There are three Dragon families,” Arianna began, and Florence settled into her stool, listening intently. Everything Arianna said sounded vaguely familiar, but Florence listened as though she was hearing for the first time. “Tam, Rok, and Xin. Rok has remained the leader for hundreds—thousands—of years. Tam seems to be in the middle, their mantra favoring balance over upset. So, as long as the Rok family doesn’t do anything too heinous, they work to maintain the status quo and do little else.”
Florence instantly knew she would not get along with a Tam Dragon. “And Xin?”
“Houses Xin and Rok seem to be constantly fighting over who will be on top. With Tam de facto in the middle, one of them is always in power with the other in the weakest position on Nova.”
“The weakest position? Poor things,” Florence remarked sarcastically.
“None of them really see us as anything worth fighting over,” Arianna admitted.
“So why would we ally with them?” Cvareh had seemed good enough, but if his family didn’t see the value in Loom, then she would no longer see the value in him . . . even if it was his blood in her veins.