by Elise Kova
“Nothing.” He answered her question before his silence brought her eyes to his. “And there’s actually something rather blissful about that fact.” It was nice not to worry about Riders, or the Wretched, or anything else Loom had on it.
“I’m glad you find it blissful.” Her tone had become bitter in an instant when her initial question had seemed so light and harmless.
“What have I done to upset you this time?” he asked with a sigh. She gave him a look. The more he acted like he didn’t care about her moods, the more bothered she became. Cvareh savored it guiltily.
“Do you know why there’s nothing out there?” Her voice had gone soft again. It was an odd contrast that Ari pulled off easily as the woman who could wear men’s clothing and look wonderfully feminine while doing so.
“Because we’re flying?”
She looked at him like he had just made the most idiotic statement she’d ever heard. “I mean why there’s nothing on the ground beneath us. No lights, no ports, black above and black below.”
“We’re over Ter.0, aren’t we?” It clicked for him.
She nodded, turning her attentions to the darkness once more—both within and outside.
“You were born in Ter.0, weren’t you?” If she remembered the time of the Guilds before the Dragons, then she was born before Loom knew what families were. Back in the primitive days when they rounded up men and women of breeding age to reproduce on the island of Ter.0—a place owned by none of and all of the guilds.
“And I spent my first ten years studying there,” she elaborated willingly.
“Then you were initiated into the Rivets after formative education?” he probed gently. It was the most personal information she had ever disclosed at once and he didn’t want to say or do something that would bring it to an end.
“‘Formative education.’” She repeated with a grin. It was coy and arrogant on the surface, but it had the same undercurrent that tugged down her shoulders. “Oh-ho, you have read about the history of Loom.”
“I have.” Cvareh shifted closer to her, keeping their conversation just to themselves and not speaking loudly enough that the few others milling about the deck could hear. “At least what’s been written on Nova about it.”
“Which I’m sure is mostly slander and propaganda.”
He couldn’t argue. “And the other third is just incorrect, I’m coming to find.”
“Are you?” Arianna turned to look at him. She’d grease-penned in the symbol of the Rivets on her face again to avoid questions. Cvareh found the mark clashed with the curve of her jaw and the cut of her cheek. It was somewhere it didn’t belong, and he suppressed the urge to take her face in his palms and rub it off with his thumb. “What else were you taught about Loom?”
“That its people are weak,” he answered easily. “All my life, I’ve been told the Fenthri are pitiable creatures. That they were simply roaming around in a barren world, barely surviving by trying to establish an order they couldn’t maintain—hence no king or supreme ruler—and that the Dragons were their saviors.”
She snorted in amusement.
“The Dragons have done nothing for Loom but cause disruption in a system they shouldn’t have touched because they didn’t understand it.”
“Help me understand it?” He wanted to know more. Cvareh mentally insisted it was a result of spending time on Loom, and that was certainly a part of it. But he wanted to know about her. What had made Arianna into the woman she was. A woman who outclassed Dragon and Fenthri and Chimera alike.
She said nothing—barely moved, barely breathed. Her silence made him hang on her every action all the more. He waited for what was percolating in the back of her mind to bubble forward.
“What will you do, Cvareh, after you make it to the Alchemists’ Guild and deliver what it is you’ve carried so far, so diligently?” Arianna stared him down, pinning his toes to the floor with the weight of her interrogation. In her mind, she drew honesty from him like moisture from a cool stone on a hot day.
“I don’t know,” he confessed. “I may return to Nova to help my sister. She’s lied for me, I believe, making up some story about where I am to prevent my arrest.”
“What do you call the King’s Riders then?”
“Think of them more as assassins than knights while they’re here.” He shrugged. “I’m not supposed to be on Loom, so they’re not technically hunting me. Being here is all one big gray area.”
She snickered. “I’m not sure if you intended that as a pun, but it was rather funny.”
Her joke was so foreign from her usual seriousness that Cvareh had to stare and process it for a long moment before he realized it had been sincere. Arianna had found humor in what he said. Not only had she not immediately assumed the worst possible implication for his words, but she had found humor in them. It was a far cry from the woman who’d held blades against his tongue, threatening to cut it out if he bothered her.
“I hadn’t.” He laughed lightly. “But it is amusing in hindsight.”
“You seem close with your sister,” Arianna mused after a long moment. “I’m not surprised you have a whisper link with her.”
He almost asked her how she knew about the link. But for someone who never seemed to miss a thing, it was simple to see how Arianna had arrived at the conclusion. He’d mentioned Petra fondly before, and he’d told Ari he had magic in his ears. She’d seen him reporting in.
“It would make sense that you would want to go back to her,” Ari whispered so faintly that he almost thought the wind was playing tricks on him. But his hearing was too good for that. He knew exactly what she’d said, and the quickening of his heartbeat knew it too.
“I could stay.” They were the only words he could say that would offer a brief respite from the pressure that had been building in his chest.
“What?” She straightened, her arms sliding off the railing. One hand rested on it as Arianna turned to face him.
The look she gave him almost made the feeling worse. Did she realize how her eyes pleaded? Was she aware of the softness in the slope of her shoulders, or the way her hand had crept closer to his on the railing? Cvareh instinctively responded in kind, his body language unfurling to meet hers, to face her chest to chest as they had so many times.
“For a little, I’m sure I could stay, or I could leave and come back quickly.” His words were making no sense. His mind was making no sense. Nothing about them had ever made any sense and yet…he thrived off her. Her blood, the way she pushed those around her, her sharp mind and sharper blades.
“Why would you do that?” Fear penetrated her stare. She was nervous of his answer, which made it all the clearer that she was becoming aware of what was happening—what had been happening—at the same time he was.
This woman had become something more to him. He didn’t know what quite yet. But he wanted to find out.
“Because I have work I can do with the rebels at the Alchemists’ Guild. I can help them,” he lied, mostly. Her lips pressed into a small frown; she knew it, too. Before she could press him on it, however, he changed the direction of the wind that blew between them. “What will you do after you have your boon? What do you even want your boon to be?”
Arianna fought a war against his words. She struggled to such a degree that the pain from the battle made it onto her face. Why did she fight so hard to keep him out?
“All my life, well, almost… I wanted the Dragon King dead,” Arianna breathed. “But I know your boon won’t be strong enough for that. I know asking for that would solve nothing. Overthrowing one tyrant only makes room for another. So, if I am selfish, I would ask for something simple: the death of a Dragon.”
“Who?”
She shook her head.
“Why, then?” He didn’t want to let go of the connection they had found between them. Not when he was finally seeing the true colors of the gray woman who had enchanted him.
“Because the Dragon betrayed us all. He was resp
onsible for the death of the last rebellion. The deaths of my teacher, my friends, and the woman I loved.”
The woman she loved. He knew Fenthri didn’t share the Dragons’ concept of family. He knew they had structured breeding before the Dragon King took over and reorganized their guilds and society. He knew that, despite the fact they could not reproduce and therefore the union could bear no true meaning, the Fenthri would couple with the same sex if it suited them to do so.
He knew that. But now it stood before him and he suddenly had to pass an opinion on it. And the only emotion he found was disappointment. Heartbreaking disappointment.
He scolded himself internally. Even if she had been the slightest bit sweet on him, what did he think could come of any type of relationship with a Fenthri—a Chimera? There was almost no point in exploring it.
“I have told you of my heart.” Arianna leaned against the railing, folding her arms over her chest as if to guard the remaining details she hadn’t shared. “Tell me of yours. What makes you so convicted to reach the Alchemists?”
Cvareh sighed softly, other matters still clouding his mind. It wouldn’t hurt to share the schematics with her. She might know what it was, but that could only prove his sincerity for her cause at this point.
Unfastening the folio on his hip, Cvareh pulled back the top flap and selected one of the smaller pieces of schematic. He didn’t know what it detailed, some inner working likely. He passed it over to her and she stilled instantly, taking it.
“They’re schematics for the Philosopher’s Box. With this—”
“Where did you get this?” she uttered, deathly quiet. Arianna remained focused on the paper in her hands. Her fingers tensed, crumpling the edges. “Where did you get this?”
“I was told that—”
“You were told?” Her jaw thrust forward as her eyes rose to scrutinize him. He could practically hear the grit of her teeth. “Told what? Told by who?”
“I was told this was what the rebellion had been working on after the One Year War. That the Dragon King thwarted the possibility of creating a perfect Chimera army. We knew if I had it, I could earn the trust of the Rebels and we could continue work.”
“You could earn their trust,” she repeated mockingly. “No, now I see what this really is.” Arianna crumpled the paper in her fist.
“You can’t do that!”
She prodded him in the chest. “I will never take you to the Alchemists. I will never let you close. If you get off this airship and even think about heading to the Guild, I will cut you down where you stand. Crawl back to Nova, Dragon scum.”
Arianna stormed past him, the paper still in hand.
Cvareh was left to catch his balance as her shoulder clipped his. He was left wondering what he had done, how his branch of peace had been turned into the first shot fired in a new war between them. He turned to call after her and, as if sensing his intention, she spun in place.
“And don’t you think about coming near Flor or me ever again,” she snarled, then continued in toward the cabins.
The other patrons of the ship whispered to each other, tittering as though they had just witnessed a scandalous lovers’ quarrel. Cvareh didn’t know what they had seen. Because this wasn’t the Arianna he knew. At every turn the woman seemed like she was someone different. Every bit of clarity he’d gained into her true nature only served to confound him further.
31. FLORENCE
Ari slammed the door behind her so hard the desk that was bolted to the wall next to it shook, a small tool rolling off its surface. Both Arianna and Florence paid the out-of-place screwdriver no mind. Ari looked at anything else but the paper she’d left on the table with a shout. She set to pacing the narrow cavern, her feet quickly forging ruts in the plush carpet.
“What’s gong on?” Florence finally asked, when it was clear the woman had no intention of doing or saying anything more than fevered mutterings.
“I knew it. I should’ve known all along,” Ari seethed. “He was never our friend, Flor. He’s a Dragon and a King’s man in his own way. He works for the King himself.”
“What?” The machine in Ari’s mind had jumped three gears and Florence couldn’t figure out how she’d gotten from one spot to the next.
“This whole time, he’s been working for the King. It’s been a ploy to get us to trust him. It’s just like last time. He came down and he’s convinced us that he can be trusted, never mind what his real motives are.”
“Ari, stop.” Florence grabbed her friend by both shoulders, which trembled slightly under her fingers—a feeling Florence had never felt from Ari before. Fear and rage mixed potently, bleeding into her veins.
She kept herself calm. It would do no good if Florence blindly agreed to what Ari was claiming. One of them had to keep her head and sort through this as logically as possible. Florence tightened her grip. “Arianna, take a deep breath and get a grip on yourself.”
“Flor, you have no idea—you, you bled so much for this man, you put yourself in a position of being forced to become a Chimera—” The word still brought ample shame to Arianna’s face. “And he was playing you all along.”
“I don’t believe you,” Florence declared. Her head was getting fuzzy from standing so long. She was practically bedridden all the time now from the effects of Dragon blood without being a proper Chimera. It had only taken one day on the airship for Florence to realize that Arianna had made the right decision in taking the risk, at least when it came to her own wellbeing. She would’ve never made it in a trek across Ter.0.
“You have no idea what he’s done. What he intends to do.”
“Then tell me.” Florence sat, finally. Her hands fell from Ari’s shoulders to grip the woman’s fingers. She pulled Ari down toward her. Arianna reluctantly obliged, falling onto the narrow bed they’d been sharing for the journey. “What happened that has you in such a state? You and he were fine over dinner.”
Better than fine, actually. It had been slow coming, but in the weeks they’d spent together, Arianna and the Dragon seemed to have found a kind of mutual peace. After the floating prison and the Underground, that peace blossomed into appreciation. Florence had watched it grow all along, two people determined to hate each other realizing just how much they could complement each other.
Florence knew why she liked Cvareh: He reminded her of Ari. Certainly, they weren’t identical. But they were both driven, both determined; they both set course for something only they could see on a distant shore. She suspected Ari saw much the same in the man, that he sparked memories within her. But now, those memories seemed to be rife with pain.
“He wants to see Loom forever under the thumb of the Dragon King. He wants to keep us under the Dragon’s control for eternity,” Arianna repeated her earlier words, unhelpfully.
“If you want me to believe you on this, Ari, you’ll have to give me some better proof,” Florence encouraged gently.
“My word isn’t good enough?”
Florence gave her an encouraging smile, and shook her head. “Not this time, I’m afraid. I know Cvareh. I’ve already formulated my own thoughts and opinions on him. This is not a story of times long gone that you recount for me and I must take at face value. This is a situation in which I have my own empirical evidence to support what I believe to be true. If you want me to change my mind, you must present new evidence.”
Arianna stared at her for a long moment. Something in Florence’s words had penetrated through the mindless aggravation and hurt. Ari shook her head, laughing bitterly.
“Since when did you become the scientist?”
“I have a good teacher,” she replied easily, nudging Ari with her shoulder. “Now, tell me what’s happened.”
The other woman sighed heavily, running her hands through her cotton-colored hair. Indecision didn’t fit Arianna well, and she struggled every second she spent thinking about Florence’s request. But finally, Ari stood, walking over to the slip of paper she’d discarded with such
passion earlier.
Just looking at it brought a scowl back to Ari’s face. Florence had to brace herself once more for the torrent of emotions that ripped through Ari and broke over her shoulders.
“This. This is what he’s been struggling to deliver.”
Florence examined the paper closely, leaning forward to get a better look. Parts were done in pencil, and those had been smudged by Ari’s treatment. The darker lines done in ink over top persevered, however. It looked like some kind of pumping mechanism? Or perhaps an engine? It wasn’t something designed to explode, of that much she could be certain.
“What is it?” She failed to see how this tiny bit of a Rivet’s sketch had upset Ari so much—even if Ari, as a Rivet, could decipher its intention. It was next to useless in its current state. She knew schematics required dozens of drawings, often of the same thing, to make assembly and creation expressly clear.
“It’s a sketch detailing a part of the Philosopher’s Box.”
“What?” Florence had only heard of such a thing existing in theory.
It was regarded as a clever exercise for students of all ages. What if a perfect Chimera were possible? One who could possess all the powers of a Dragon and not become forsaken from the stress of the magic on their body? How would that change Loom? How would it make things different?
Most knew the answer: It would make everything different. With access to that much magic on Loom, they could create larger, more intricate machines without the need of backup mechanics to run them. They could successfully fly their own gliders up as high as Nova without losing control. They would need less food, so the Harvesters could spend more effort on deeper mining of rarer minerals. And they could stand a fighting chance against Dragons.
The Philosopher’s Box would change everything, and that was why no one believed it could ever be real.
