“Oh, and Florence,” Sophie stopped her just as she was about to depart. “I think it goes without saying that this is quite a dangerous mission.”
Florence knew that, but she nodded anyway.
“Should you fail, it will mean your death.”
There was the whisper of a threat ghosting around Sophie’s words, a certainty that couldn’t be known unless a promise was being given. Florence kept her suspicion to herself, not wanting to unreasonably accuse the Vicar Alchemist of telling her outright that her options were to die on the mission, or die upon her unsuccessful return. Florence searched Sophie’s eyes for something more, something else. But there was nothing beyond careful calculation glittering in their depths.
9.Arianna
Arianna wished she had Florence’s penchant for explosives. If she did, she would’ve long since slipped a small disk bomb into Cain’s pocket. For one, she liked the man about as much as she enjoyed chewing on rusty nails. But more than that, she couldn’t stand the monotony their days had fallen into. It was a very Revolver notion for her, but stripped screws, she’d blow it all halfway to Ter.5 just to see something happen.
Breakfast came promptly with the dawn. Cain hand delivered it, seemingly the only one authorized to interact with her on a personal basis. The first few mornings he nearly scared her into a rage at the sound of someone entering her room. The next few mornings, she began to sleep through his arrival, offering no thank you nor note of his efforts on her behalf. The forced lack of appreciation became more normal with each passing day until sleeping through his coming and going became natural.
Ari still stirred at the sound of someone entering her space. Her hand closed around the hilt of her dagger that she kept under her pillow on instinct. But ritual won out the second the familiar scent of wet earth filled her nose, and she relaxed. Cain never did anything that would warrant her drawing her weapon.
Around lunch, he would come to her and weave a tight illusion over her that shifted her appearance into the colors and more extreme angles of Dragon skin and bone. Arianna would stare at her brightly colored form in the windows and mirrors of the Xin manor as she explored with Cain in tow. It was an unnatural shade layered atop her, a weightless shroud that was nearly suffocating to all that she was.
But it was the only way she could escape her room. Cvareh had made Petra’s will clear the last time he’d delivered her back after her second escape; Arianna’s wandering would not be tolerated, given the secret nature of her presence. And, as much as she wanted to delight in putting the Dragons in their places, the truth was she had no ground to stand on for the matter. If Arianna fought, she would only make it so far before being violently subdued.
The foolishness of her impulsive decision to come to Nova weighed on her more with every passing hour, crushing her with each day. She had no route back to Loom. She knew little of the Dragon’s society and couldn’t even navigate without causing a fuss for no other reason than the shade of her skin. Escape on her own wasn’t enough; she wouldn’t leave after spending this long on Nova without some kind of success, and if she was to accomplish anything she needed to regain some of her sovereignty.
Arianna vowed to do just that nearly a month into her virtual imprisonment.
“Take me to Cvareh,” she demanded of Cain, awake with the dawn to greet him.
The man stared at her for a long moment, then continued his morning rituals as if she hadn’t woken at all. Arianna stood. She would not be ignored.
“I wish to speak to Cvareh.”
“And if the Ryu wished to speak to you, do you not think he would’ve come to do so himself?” Cain stared at her from the opposite side of the small table in the center of her room.
Arianna laughed. That Dragon rank and file nonsense wasn’t about to work on her. She was born of Loom, and she didn’t kneel before any man or woman simply because they wished her to.
“He doesn’t know I seek him.”
“Then I shall deliver your message.”
“I don’t trust you,” Arianna snapped back. For a retort that required such little thought, it stilled Cain by a satisfying margin.
“I am a Xin’Da, I would never—”
“That means nothing to me.” She rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh, sitting heavily on the bed. “All that matters to me is action.”
“Action?” Cain tapped his fingertips on the table, claws sheathed. “And what have my actions done to earn your mistrust? I have gone out of my way for you. I have attended to you daily. Were it not for my magic, you would be trapped within this room in perpetuity.”
Arianna scowled viciously, as if to scare away the truth.
“Do you think I do it because I enjoy being around you?” he scoffed. “Quite the opposite, I assure you.”
She stared at his hands as they thrummed against the tabletop, her mind made up. “Very well, Cain. If you will not take me to him, bring Cvareh to me.”
He snorted, crossing over to her. The Dragon stared down his nose at her with his molten gold eyes. Arianna met them fearlessly. Cain cocked his head to the side.
“Why are you here, White Wraith?”
She rose to her feet, drawing her full height, but the crown of her head only came up to his mouth. Nevertheless, Arianna stood as though she was eye to eye with the Dragon. She would not be made to feel small. She would not be relegated to the space he deemed her worthy of.
“Does it bother you, not knowing why you’re ordered to attend to me day after day?” She could only assume he was under orders to oversee her. “The great Cain Xin’Da Bek, reduced to nannying a Chimera. To bringing her food and tending to her needs.”
