by Elise Kova
She looked with clarity and a heavy sigh on the broken remnants of her revolver. She’d need another, more gold, more chemicals… She wasn’t looking forward to another trip to the armory.
“Up with you.” Derek took her hands, pulling her to her feet. “Nora wasn’t up late last night. She’ll be awake soon and wondering where we are.”
The man relinquished her fingers and walked back over to the trike. Florence stood in limbo. She felt trapped between the failure of her passions and the weak successes of a duty she’d never wanted.
“Flor?” Derek called from atop the vehicle.
“Coming.” She left the remnants of the gun in the dirt. Failure was a missed shot; quitting was never reloading the gun. She was Florence, student of the White Wraith, and she did not quit.
5. Arianna
“Hold on.”
Arianna immediately took issue with Cain’s tone. “You think I can’t figure that out?”
She settled herself on the back of the giant purple flying chicken, hating the feeling of a living creature under her rather than something mechanical. She’d nearly prefer the busted glider over the bird. At least it didn’t have a mind of its own that could rebel when she was in the open air.
“Well?” He drew out a long pause at the end of the word, looking over his shoulder.
“You don’t think I’m actually going to touch you, do you?” Arianna gripped the back of the saddle with both hands for show. Her legs pressed tightly on either side, stabilizing herself.
“Technically—” His eyes darted down to where her hips were pressed against his backside by virtue of the shape of the seat.
“I don’t want to hear it, Dragon.” Arianna narrowed her eyes and reached for her dagger. “Cross me and I will cut—”
“Suit yourself.” Cain shrugged and snapped the reins.
With a mighty caw, the bird lurched off the ledge. Arianna’s stomach was instantly in her throat. She held on with white knuckles and all the determination that came from being keenly aware of how vulnerable she presently was. Arianna had absolutely no control: not of the bird, not of the man before her, not of where he was taking her.
“Where are we going?” She needed to take something back from him, even if it was just knowledge.
“The Xin Manor.” Arianna hadn’t actually expected him to answer. “The Dono will be on Ruana soon, and we need to try to scrub the stink of Loom off you before he arrives.”
“Dragon—” she half snarled.
He jerked the reins and the bird banked hard to the right around the mountain. Arianna’s grip slipped and she teetered in the seat. Still her hands didn’t seek out the stability of his form. She righted herself, collapsing the muscles in her stomach, compressing those in her back, and weighting herself in the seat.
Cain gave her another quick glance. “You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?”
Arianna fantasized about all the ways she could peel his green-blue skin off his bones the second they landed.
“My name is not ‘Dragon’.” He turned forward again with a self-righteous squaring of his shoulders. “It’s Cain Xin’Da Bek.”
She rolled her eyes dramatically at his back. “Cvareh told me much the same when we first met.”
“That’s Cvareh Soh to you, Chimera.” She’d struck an obvious nerve as his tone shifted.
“So defensive,” Arianna mock-praised over the howling wind. “Cva would be so proud.”
Cain gave a sharp whistle and the bird dropped into a free fall. Arianna’s shoulder muscles strained from the tension she put them under as she worked to hold onto the saddle rather than giving in to the Dragon. She’d show him that Fenthri were not to be underestimated. That she was not to be underestimated.
Just when she thought she’d go deaf from the howling wind, he pulled again, leaning into the curve of the mountain. Arianna learned fast and moved with him. The centrifugal force held her in place.
“Cvareh had to earn his name, as do you.” Arianna didn’t miss a beat when the bird leveled again.
Cain laughed at the sky. It was different than the way people laughed on Loom. This sound was loud, full-bellied, a half-roar of mirth.
“Twenty gods above, what are you?”
Arianna leaned forward, finally placing her hands on him. She wanted him to feel her there. To feel the power in her fingertips, to feel her magic. The smell of earth after rain—the scent of his magic—tingled her nose.
“The White Wraith,” she whispered.
Three simple words evoked such shock in the Dragon that she thought his neck might snap from turning to look at her. Arianna curled her mouth into a wide smile, baring her teeth. His golden eyes tried to dissect a lie from her proclamation where there was none.
Good. He’d heard of her.
Cain turned forward rigidly, his whole body tense under her hands. Arianna relaxed away, resting on the saddle once more. She was more dangerous when her palms were free to grip her daggers at will. Not that he expressly knew that, but she’d relish keeping him guessing. Predictability was the death of fear.
The gray stone of the mountain arched beside them, unfurling like a grand banner. And the gem of that banner was what Arianna could only assume to be the Xin manor. She worked to keep her face passive, just in case Cain turned to face her. She had only a glimpse of the mountainside structure during her harrowing flight in. Now, it grew before her, inviting and impossible.
Stone arched and curved, spinning around towers and lacing between walkways. There were stretches of woven masonry that served no other purpose than aesthetics, as they were clearly too thin and brittle to be supports or walkways. Raw crystal or glass had been cut into it, filtering the sunlight into rainbows upon the walls.
The boco banked again, beginning to descend. Numbers upon numbers whirred in Ari’s head as she stared at every arch and tower. The calculations kept coming up as impossible, time and again. This structure shouldn’t be standing. It should crumble under its own weight, or be toppled by one of the mighty gusts that ripped around the mountainside.
Arianna lived in a world of calculation on Loom. She understood the laws of nature, what could and couldn’t be done. But she was no longer on Loom. She was in a land of endless waterfalls, flying bird mounts, inverted mountains, floating islands, and castles of stone that were held aloft in the sky with the same ease as a paper plane in a breeze.
She dismounted with purpose, her legs steady despite her knees having turned to gelatin. She was Arianna, the White Wraith; the hem of her white coat flapped around her calves, and she would walk like the bloody god she was, come to pass judgment on this backward land. As if sensing her mental declaration, the Dragons who were waiting to greet them in the jeweled courtyard they landed within hovered in the shade of an upper galley. They looked uncertainly from her to Cain, begging silently for some kind of explanation for her presence.
Just for effect, Arianna lifted her goggles onto her forehead, showing off her pilfered Dragon eyes like rare and coveted gemstones.
“Cain’Da.” A woman was the bravest among them. No surprise. She kept her eyes turned downward as she approached, cloth draped over her arm. Arianna watched as the sapphire-skinned woman peeled his fitted riding jacket from his bare chest, holding a coat void of sleeves as an equally pointless alternative.
Arianna folded her hands over her chest. “Can’t even dress yourself?”
“Come, Chimera.” Cain looked at her sideways.
“Arianna.” She didn’t budge.
“If I must earn my name, you must earn yours,” he snarled, baring his teeth.
Arianna curled her lips in reply. She may not have the fearsome canines of a Dragon, but she knew how to speak their language. One of the servants balked at the sight. Unfortunately, it didn’t have the same effect on Cain.
“Do you think you can in
timidate me?” He strolled over nonchalantly. “Do you know how many I’ve killed?”
“Forced to guess, I would estimate the number to be less than not nearly enough to make me scared.” A hand curled around the hilt of her dagger. “You’ve heard of me, so you must know what I do to Dragons.”
“And yet here you are, on Nova.” Cain motioned to the air around him. He waited for a retort she was loath not to have. He took a step forward, encroaching on her personal space. “That’s what I thought. I don’t know why you’re here, White Wraith.” More than one Dragon waiting in the wings visibly tensed. Even in Fennish, her moniker was known to them. “But you’re in my home now. And while you are here, you will be an obedient and obliging guest.”
He reached for her chin. To do what, Arianna didn’t know. But the motion felt sickly condescending following his declaration. She didn’t hesitate to draw her dagger. The golden blade was still ringing from its sheath when it sliced into his flesh. Sharp and precise, she cut off the tip of the offending finger before it could touch her.
Every Dragon around them, all five of them, had their claws out in an instant. They lunged from the shadows with snarls and growls, like dogs let off their chains. Cain held up his still bleeding hand, the fingertip already re-growing. The world seemed to hold its breath with his singular command. All except for Arianna’s heaving chest.
“I admire the ferocity. But if you turn your blade against me again, I will not stay my talons.”
“You can’t kill me.” She called his bluff. If Cvareh was to be believed, his sister—the head of House Xin—needed Arianna a lot more than she needed them.
At least, that’s what she’d let them believe.
The truth was, if Florence’s rebellion was to succeed, they needed the Dragons’ help as much as the Dragons needed theirs. The rebellion needed Dragon organs, the ability to transport things quickly, fighting power and an established base on Nova. And a certain resource for the Philosopher’s Box that Arianna was determined to find in her time on the floating islands.
“I never said anything about killing you. You’re the White Wraith, aren’t you? I’m sure you can use your imagination as to how I would occupy my time instead.” He grinned wildly, showing his teeth again. “Now, will you come with me to the baths? Or do I need to drag you there by force?”
Arianna regretted her decision to come to Nova more and more by the second. She was outnumbered tens, hundreds, to one. Individually, the Dragons might fear her, but as a pack they had her trapped like a wounded hare. With all the dignity she could muster, Arianna sheathed her dagger and straightened from a hostile crouch.
“Lead on,” she forced through gritted teeth. If she couldn’t keep a combative advantage, she’d keep her pride.
They walked into the shade of the gallery and penetrated the castle’s innards. Led through back halls and side passages, Arianna did not see another Dragon outside their group. But she could sense them, smell them, feel their magic rippling through the currents of the air. It was loud, like a hundred people speaking all at once. Her senses were constantly flaring with recognition of them, trying to understand and catalog every magical signature. Arianna could only assume that living on Nova brought the Dragons more success at filtering their senses than she was able to muster. She hoped it would prove a learned trait, otherwise the sensation would drive her mad long before she sized up this Petra she had come to meet.
The servants said nothing. They kept their eyes down and their lips pursed. For the most part, they even contained their curious glances. All except for one.
“Why does Cvareh’Ryu bring a Chimera into our home?” the woman from earlier asked Cain in Ryouk.
“The ends justify these means,” Cain replied vaguely. He clearly didn’t have much more of an explanation himself.
“She smells,” the woman whispered, but not quietly enough that Arianna couldn’t hear.
“She will be better once she’s washed.” They continued on as though Arianna was none the wiser to their discourse. She held her tongue, avoiding speaking in the Dragon’s language and giving up the game.
“All Chimera reek, rotten blood.”
“I know, Dawyn’Anh,” Cain conceded, as if heartbroken by the fact that he would have to endure her scent for another moment longer. “But our Ryu has spoken with the support of the Oji.”
That silenced the woman, though Arianna could still feel her radiant frustration. The mention of Cvareh put both the likes of Cain and this Dawyn woman into submission. Arianna failed to stifle a chuckle, earning a confused look from her companions that was abandoned when it became apparent she had no intent of elaborating on the source of her sudden amusement.
The idea of Cvareh scaring anyone into submission was laughable. She had put the Dragon in his place too many times to think of him as anything more than… than… Arianna paused, struggling to fill in the blank for an all-too-long second… than Cvareh.
They finally rounded into an airy room—yet another space constructed upon a foundation of impossibilities. Steam hung thick in the air, clouding around the aromatic scent of the wildflowers floating in the wading pool. An entire wall was made of rippled glass—or some kind of clear quartz, Arianna had yet to decipher which. She hoped it was the latter, because the former made her question what exactly the builders had been thinking using such large panes of glass to stand against such violent gusts.
One side of the pool was made up of the clear wall, giving the illusion that the water stopped mid-air. The tile surrounding it was set in a chevron pattern and glistened with moisture. A small stool sat out by a bucket full of steaming water and an array of tools that were either for washing or stripping off skin—she couldn’t tell which.
The entire group remained, two Dragons on either side of the door. Cain leaned against her only escape nonchalantly. The woman—Dawyn—approached her.
Arianna took a step away, avoiding her outstretched hands.
“I will help you.” She spoke in a rudimentary attempt at Fennish, a thick guttural accent over top.
“Help me with what?” Arianna knew exactly what she was implying. But she’d stall to underscore her sour opinion of the implication.
“Wash.”
“I think I’ve managed well enough on my own so far in life.”
Cain sighed. “Stop being so difficult. If we wanted you dead, you would be.”
“As if you could kill me.” She kept up her facade. The second she showed weakness would be the second they’d have her. Even if she was outnumbered, she wouldn’t act it. “I don’t particularly want an audience for my bath.”
Confusion marred Cain’s face.
Rusty cogs. Realization hit her with the grace of a steam engine. Dragons were not known for their modesty. Half of the people staring at her now were in what she considered various states of undress. They truly didn’t, and couldn’t, understand why she wouldn’t want guests during her ablutions.
Arianna had only been naked around two people: Eva and Florence. She had reached a level of comfort with her long-dead lover and still-living student that surpassed propriety and convention.
But this wasn’t Loom.
She had ventured above the clouds in pursuit of new opportunities, old truths, and scores still waiting to be settled. Arianna locked eyes with Cain as her hands began unclasping her harness. He didn’t even blink as the metal of her winch box and spools hit the tile floor with an echoing clang, chipping one of the ornate tiles. She started on the fastenings of her coat.
He acknowledged the silent challenge, amusement dancing with fascination in the deep gold of his eyes. She would show them all that she could rise to any occasion—on Loom, on Nova, in this world or the next. One by one, the scraps of her clothing fell and the heat of the room dotted her bare ashen skin with beads of moisture.
Cain’s eyes never left her face.
The Dragon King oozed displeasure from his very pores.
He felt it seeping out of him, simmering hot, elevating the temperature of the room. He was alone, which was an unfamiliar sensation. Leona had been a figure at his side for decades and now it was as though the woman had never existed.
She’d had her faults, as they all did, but her loyalty was only matched by her ferocity. And, for the most part, she could manage to temper the fire that burned under her skin even when her frustrations struggled to get the better of her. It was a fire he’d stoked in all the right ways, until it burned white-hot and only for him. Nurturing Leona’s radical worship of him had been the rare duty that was also a delight.
Now, years of work had been lost in what seemed like a blink on his lifeline.
Yveun sheathed and unsheathed his claws, raking them against the wall of the room he’d been pacing like some lowly caged animal.
It was one of his secret habits. The Dono, the sky ruler, the overseer of the land below, chosen one of the Life-bringer, for all his sweeping palaces and grand rooms, preferred the comfort of a tiny space to think in. A space with only one way out. A space so confined that just the thought of being trapped within it set his heart to racing.
In that heightened awareness of his own mortality, he found clarity. It was as though the stone walls that surrounded him, marred from years of claws scraped against them, were the only thing solid enough to contain the torrents of his thoughts. It was a place where the feeling of lowliness growled for dominance in his stomach once more, and when he ascended, he returned to the world like a merciful god.
Leona and Coletta were the only two who knew of his secret lair. Coletta never came down; she had her spaces, he had his, and they issued the utmost respect to each other in preserving those barriers. They were three times as effective because they maintained that separation, and the world regarded them as a split entity.
Yveun smiled wide, pure delight filling him at the very thought of Coletta. He and his mate, moon and sun. They were two halves that orbited each other and only very rarely touched.