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.”

Arianna knew just what places to prod. She knew enough of Dragon society to be offensive when it suited her. Cain narrowed his eyes.

“Now, bring me Cvareh.”

Cain moved and Arianna fell backward. His hand grasped for the empty air where her face had just been. She collapsed onto the bed, one hand on the hilt of her dagger. The pillow burst in an explosion of feathers as her dagger tore through it; they floated through the air between them as he landed atop her. One hand supported him above her, the other reached for her face again.

Her dagger rose against his palm, gold dripping onto her shoulder where it bit into his flesh. Arianna scowled. Cain snarled in reply.

“You think you can order me, Fen?”

“I do,” she sneered in kind at the slur for her people. “Because if you could kill me, you would’ve already.”

He pressed his hand forward, the dagger meeting bone. Arianna’s muscles strained against the force, keeping it at bay. Blood fell atop her like raindrops, smelling sharply of the fresh scent of wet earth.

“Why are you here?” he repeated. “Why have you ventured to my home? Why do you insult my Oji and still walk? How do you make demands of my Ryu as though he breathes for you alone?”

There was the root of it.

“Bring me Cvareh,” she demanded again, quietly. So quiet that his dripping blood against her shoulder was louder with each dull splat.

Cain snarled once more, then pushed away. Arianna pushed back, giving him purchase against her dagger and digging it deeper into his flesh. She laced the slash with magic, stinting his healing and slowing the knitting of his skin. The Dragon looked at it curiously.

“You act as though you are truly a Wraith—mighty and untouchable.” He clenched his fingers into a fist, blood oozing between them. “But I have seen your flesh.” The words stung, reminding her of the impropriety she’d endured before him. “I know under the armor of words and talons of sharpened gold, you are no more immortal than I.”

He left quickly, denying her the possibility of a retort. Arianna was set to pacing, her mind racing. It spun like clockwork assembled around every possibility, tooling for every outcome. At the core of the gearbox of her mind, Florence remained.

Arianna crossed over to the window, staring at the clouds below her. Not for the first time, she wondered how her apprentice fared. She’d sought redemption in Florence’s eyes, but in doing so had left the girl alone with the one woman whom Arianna had nothing but bitter feelings toward.

Lost in the labyrinth of her mind, Arianna was startled when she heard the door open once more. She half expected to be faced with Cain and some excuse of why she wasn’t good enough for his Ryu’s time. But the man she sought closed the stately portal behind him.

Cvareh regarded her warily. As he should, Arianna seethed quietly. They had not spoken since he last condemned her to the proverbial prison she had been trapped within for the past few weeks. He hadn’t so much as sought after her once as far as she knew.

But would she have wanted him to? She owed him nothing, and he owed her nothing but the yet unrequited boon. That was hardly anything significant to pull them together outside of a magical transaction. And yet, she couldn’t deny a hurt sort of yearning for it.

“It’s good to see you.” He startled her by speaking first.

“If that were truly the case, you would’ve looked in on me sooner.” Arianna rolled her eyes, dismissing the sentiment.

“Well, you’re not exactly the most approachable woman in the manor.” He sat at one of the chairs by her table, glancing at the cooling food. “Is it not to your liking?”

“Nothing is to my liking.” She narrowed the distance between them. But the advance felt nothing like it had with Cain. There was a different sort of tension between her and Cvareh, a sort of ebb and flow they both could acknowledge but had been strung along in the current despite. He made her quiver with tension. His presence elicited a physical response as her breath held and muscles tensed. But, unlike her body’s response to Cain, it was not her dagger that her hands wanted to reach for. She felt safe around this Dragon. It was a welcome sensation that seemed to be magnified by how long it had been since she had last seen him. “I am trapped within these walls, a prisoner of your sister’s. But she does not seek me out either. I will not hand the Philosopher’s Box to her in a fit of boredom.”

“I had never thought otherwise.”

“Does she?” Cvareh’s silence told Arianna everything. She pulled the chair opposite him around the table to sit before him. Arianna folded her hands, resting her elbows on her knees. “Cvareh, you know that will not work with me.”

“I’ve advised Petra thusly.”

“And yet your words haven’t worked.” Arianna shook her head. This is why she didn’t depend on other people to get the job done. “I want to return to Loom.”

“What?” Cvareh drew back, his magic fluctuating. “Petra would never allow it.”

“I’ll find a way out or I’ll jump to my death and take the knowledge of the box with me.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Do you want to test me?” Arianna grinned faintly at the notion. The man clearly thought she placed more value on her own life than she did. She leaned back with a sigh. “Or, perhaps, I’ll wish for you to do it.”

“That’s not what you want the boon for.”

“You know nothing about me,” she cautioned.

“I know more than you think.”

Arianna wanted to refuse him. She wanted to shut him out violently and without remorse. But the door had been opened too wide between them. His mouth on hers ghosted upon her lips, reminding her of the un-crossable lines they’d traversed together. Lines that she might dare walk again if she had the chance. Arianna focused on the curve of his mouth for too long a moment.

She wouldn’t let herself give into frivolous distractions. “Here are your options: Tell Petra that I seek passage home without hindrance.”

“Or?”

“Or, I demand a pair of hands.”

Cvareh’s brows knitted in confusion only to untangle with shock when he realized what she was asking. He sputtered, trying to build momentum behind his words. “That’s something that isn’t done. I can’t just—”

“Those are the options, Cvareh. Either would give me my freedom, and therefore her trust in my future actions.” Arianna stood and turned her back to him. “If Petra seeks my acquiescence, she must treat me like an equal. Or at the very least, a worthy opponent.”