The explosion was small by Florence’s standards. Enough to stun, but not enough to hinder. Its real purpose was obvious as the reaction of the chemicals plumed thick purple smoke into the room. Remaining Fenthri coughed, trying to blink through the smog. Florence pulled up the goggles that sat around her neck and settled a mask around her nose and mouth.
Arianna gave her an appreciative once-over as they sprinted out into the sun. Florence panted softly, but returned the gesture in kind. The girl was brilliant for thinking of practical, multi-functional disguises. Flor’s planning and foresight had bought the three a few precious seconds. Now, it was up to Arianna to figure out how not to waste them.
11.FLORENCE
It felt like the side of her face had been pistol-whipped. Florence’s cheek had swollen to twice its size, pressing her eye half-shut uncomfortably. It was true what they said about Dragons, that their bones were twice as dense as the average Fenthri’s. No wonder the lone resistance on Loom had been squelched effectively the moment it had sprung up. The Dragons were superior in nearly every way.
Her eyes drifted over to Cvareh. The Dragon stumbled along with Arianna’s help. If the Rider had messed him up that badly, Florence couldn’t even fathom how strong she’d really been. The Dragon hadn’t even fallen after being shot through with a magic canister.
“Where are we headed?” Florence dared ask the question. Arianna had that faraway look that always overcame her when she was thinking.
Arianna snapped back to reality. “The port.”
“There’s no way we can board an airship now. If they had a customs line in the train terminal, they’ll certainly have one on any airships—especially those headed for Keel.”
“We’ll see when we get there. I’m just hoping to use all the people to mask our trail.” Arianna glanced at Cvareh. His wounds had nearly healed, but it was taking a magical toll on him and he bumbled along, exhausted. He looked like Ari did after a particularly rough mission. Healing might be in Dragon blood, but it certainly wasn’t without cost. “Flor, you did well.”
The statement came like a rogue beam of sunlight breaking through the clouds. Florence had never seen such a thing happen, of course, but she’d heard it was possible and if it did happen, she imagined the encouraging smile Arianna was giving her would feel the same. She’d been terrified. Rushing in headfirst with reckless abandon was more Arianna’s mode of operation. But she’d take the praise in duplicates if Arianna was the one giving it.
Arianna stopped suddenly, pulling into a sidewall. Florence didn’t question and followed suit. They crouched next to a rubbish bin that reeked of spoiled fish and sour milk. Florence was grateful that Dragons didn’t seek out blood trails entirely with their noses; otherwise they might have had to bathe in such a foul concoction.
The cause for Arianna’s wariness became clear as the unique cry of a Dragon’s glider echoed across the clouds. Both women turned their eyes skyward, seeking out the ominous rainbow trail—but neither saw it. With a dull thud, like a metal spoon hitting the bottom of a pot filled with water, the Dragon crossed through the clouds that separated Nova from Loom.
“I’ve never seen a Rider retreat before.” Cvareh frowned, massaging his shoulder. It had hung at an odd angle previously, but was now almost right again.
“Maybe it’s a good sign?” Florence was hopeful.
“Never.” The Dragon squelched her optimism on the spot. “She’s going back for reinforcements. She has our scent now.”
“Dragon—” Arianna started tensely.
“Am I back to Dragon now? I thought I had been upgraded to ‘Cvareh’ on the train.”
If Florence had been in his odd, supposedly fashionable shoes, she wouldn’t have been trying Arianna’s patience at that exact moment.
“If I call you mongrel you’ll answer, after that stunt you pulled,” Arianna snarled.
Florence expected Cvareh to rise in kind, as he usually did. But the man tilted his head back, exposing his neck and chest. Florence was oddly reminded of a dog exposing its stomach to the leader of the pack.
“You’re right. It was stupid of me.”
Arianna clearly didn’t know how to handle this sudden subservience, and Cvareh’s out-of-character actions seemed to annoy her all the more. Florence leaned against the rubbish bin, too tired to care about the smell and already getting used to it. Ari grabbed the Dragon’s face, pulling it toward hers.
“Can Dragons track blood or magic across water? How well?”
Cvareh considered this for a long moment. “We don’t have large bodies of water on Nova like on Loom—and nothing salty. If we could scrub the trail of our scent before getting on the water and kept the magic to a minimum, it could cover the smell enough—better than the open air would.”
“Do you think you can keep the magic ‘to a minimum’?”
“Yes.” Annoyance at Arianna’s tone and manhandling was beginning to creep into Cvareh’s words. Florence shifted, preparing to put herself between them like she had back in the bunker.
“You’re sure? No more running off and attacking Riders for no good reason?”
Cvareh finally jerked his head from her grasp. He swatted her hand away with a glare and the two locked eyes. They were like counter-weights on either side of the scale. Different, but painfully similar—more so than they wanted to admit.
Florence could see them from a step away, and that step was a half a world of perspective. He was the sugared art on a cake and Ari was the plate and utensils. They saw an enemy in each other, mortal opposites, form versus function. Florence saw two things that were undeniably different, but surprisingly complementary.
“If you knew what they’d said you wouldn’t—”
