The Rebels of Gold (Loom Saga #3)(95)
“How are things with the Revolvers going?” There was only a small pack of them now, training what few Perfect Chimera had been made. But they were all hoping for more to come, since Loom had moved away from the Underground.
“Progressing. I will ask you to measure the progress of the first class. You know better than any what they need to stand against Dragons.”
Arianna folded her arms over her chest. “Speaking of fighting Dragons . . . The refineries on Nova, while utterly pointless as refineries—”
“No resources?”
“No resources.” Arianna affirmed. She found it amusing how any Fenthri instantly knew about the issue with refineries on Nova, but none of the Dragons seemed to have figured it out, or heeded the warnings. “In any case, they are making weapons there.”
“Dragons armed with weapons. That is not ideal.”
“No,” she agreed. “But they’re rudimentary, and the Dragons don’t understand how to use them. We’ll still overpower them with Florence’s gun and with the Perfect Chimera.”
“Oddly optimistic for you,” he observed.
Arianna shrugged. “What other choice do I have?”
“A hard spot we’ve put you in, indeed.”
“I don’t mind the fighting.”
“I didn’t just mean the fighting.” She stared at the old man, waiting for him to clarify. “You’ve spent your life in secrecy, Arianna. You’ve worked in the shadows, functioned mostly alone. Now, so much rests on your shoulders. Too much.”
“I’m fine.” Arianna herself didn’t know if it was a lie. “As I said before, what other choice do I have? I won’t abandon Loom.”
“That’s good to hear.”
Arianna searched the vicar’s face. Her eyes narrowed. “Did you suspect I would?”
“You were forced into the limelight. Your hand is forced to action. And you were forced to do what no inventor should—share your schematics.”
“Sharing them was my choice.” The four words were so familiar that Arianna almost believed them.
Willard spared her his protest. “Loom appreciates your loyalty. I, and every Chimera, appreciate you sharing the whole technology of the boxes, unaltered.”
That was when she understood him. Arianna couldn’t stop a snarl. “I may be a Wraith, but I would not harm my own people.”
“You never wanted to share the boxes, and the idea of widespread Perfect Chimera was something you resisted. Forgive me for asking Arianna, but is there anything I should know about them?”
“They are as true as the one in me.” Arianna scowled at the man.
“Very well.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“It doesn’t matter if I do or do not. You have or haven’t tampered with them. You will or won’t. But this wave has crested, Arianna. There is no turning back progress now.” He paused, and Arianna had nothing to fill the silence with. “Don’t exhaust yourself. We need you alive.” With that, the old man departed.
“No turning back progress,” she repeated, staring at the boxes that lined the table. Was it really progress? Or was her creation the thing that would drive Loom to its demise?
Coletta
Along the narrow, depressingly unadorned passage away from her Gray Room was another receiving area—a collection of holding cells, really—where incoming Fen would be tested on their worth. Rok only had room and resources to support a select few of the wretched creatures, so the pack needed to be thinned. This area had been re-purposed as an observation room for the two women who currently occupied the space.
Topann lay on the table in the center of the room, a book Coletta had granted her open flat. The woman cupped her chin with her palm, lazily flipping the pages as her foot, with a mind of its own, rocked a chair slightly behind her back and forth. Where she was the picture of serenity and patience, the other beast in the room was not.
Fae crouched before the barred door to one of the cells that lined the perimeter and grinned at the cowering Alchemist inside. With one claw, she scratched away at the lock. A deep groove had already formed underneath the harrowing sound of her claw.
At Coletta and Yveun’s arrival, the two women were on their feet with varying speeds and levels of decorum. Topann stood straight, head bowed, hands folded demurely before her. Fae leaned heavily against the door of the cell, causing a faint clanking sound as the hinges strained under her bulk. Her purple eyes drifted lustily over to Yveun, the foreplay between them beginning with a mere look.
“How many organs do you each have?” Coletta asked.
“All of them,” Topann answered dutifully. “Save for lungs.”
“What she said.” Fae gave a mocking imitation of Coletta’s flower.
“The sickness, the magic rejection . . . You worked through it?” Yveun walked straight for Fae. “I want to see.”
“I’ll let you see inside me, if it pleases the Dono.” Fae made a show of leaning forward to whisper in his ear, but it was really entirely for the titillation of the man before her. Coletta, in turn, gave an approving look to Fae. She needed the woman to smooth over her mate’s rough edges at the impending news.
“How did you do it?” Yveun couldn’t seem to decide on which head he wanted to let govern his actions, and his body pivoted between her and Fae. Coletta knew his curiosity was great indeed if it pulled him away from the purring sex goddess before him.