33. Cvareh

He had flown a sum total of one other glider in his life. That time it had been in a rush as well, stolen. He’d barreled down toward the Gods’ Line in utter terror, gripping the handles with all his might, pushing as much magic as he could into his feet and around the body of the glider.

It had been how he’d started his journey. And now it seemed it would end much the same. He had no idea what was below him. The faint glow of lights dotted the fast-approaching horizon, winking in and out from the trees that swayed, blocking their path.

“Ari’s still up there!” Florence’s eyes were glued to the smoking remains of the airship, plummeting down to earth like a swan at the end of its song, taking one last dive.

He gripped the handles tightly. After what she’d said to him, he shouldn’t care. She’d stolen his schematic, she’d cast him aside, she’d shown him exactly how little he meant to her. And now…now he should shrug her off like she was nothing. He should focus on the final sprint of his journey. If she wanted to deal with the Riders for him, he should take the gift without a second thought.

But he strained his neck, looking over his shoulder. She was still up there, headed toward death on his behalf. It tied knots in his stomach. It flipped his heart up-side down. It broke his resolve.

Pantheon above save him, he might care for the woman more than he’d ever bargained for. That brash and unfashionable Wraith had lived up to her word from New Dortam. She had stolen his heart after all.

Cvareh looked forward again, grimacing inward. Yes, let the first woman he’d developed any kind of confusing but substantial feelings for be a Fenthri. Not just any Fenthri, but that Fenthri.

“We have to go back for her.” Florence grabbed his arm, pleading.

“Flor, I’m trying to prevent us from dying right now. It’s what she wanted. It’s what Arianna wanted,” he repeated uselessly, as if that would absolve him of his frantic worry for the woman. “She’s stronger than any Chimera I’ve ever met. She’s stronger than most Dragons I’ve known. If anyone will survive, it’s her.”

“She’s as mortal as you or I! She only dons that illusion because it suits her.”

“You think I’m not aware of that!” he snarled. Florence looked at him in surprise. “You think I am not aware that she is just a woman underneath that white coat? I assure you, I am painfully, frustratingly, confusingly aware.”

The girl stilled. Her hands fell from his person to grip the railing of the oddly shaped glider for stability. She was still weak, he noted. She would continue to decay until she had her transfusion and made the transition to the halfway state of existence known as being a Chimera.

“When did it happen?” Florence whispered.

Cvareh looked at her, cursing her for being so astute. But if anyone were to notice, it would have been Florence. After all the time she’d spent with him and Arianna, she would sense the subtle changes with even the most cursory observations.

“I’m figuring that out myself.” He didn’t mince words. “But now isn’t quite the time.”

Three Fenthri huddled in the front of his glider, clinging to the railing for dear life. Florence had insisted the three join them. The girl refused to take a whole glider to herself despite Arianna’s goals and worries. Her good nature even in the face of danger and death shined through.

“Brace yourselves,” he shouted as the first tree scraped the bottom of the glider.

Controlled falling he could barely manage. But the amount of magic required to keep the wings aloft, descend evenly—they were skills he’d never learned or even thought to work on. The added difficulty of dodging the silent sentinels of the dark forest made the idea of a smooth landing impossible. He just hoped he wouldn’t kill everyone before they touched the ground.

Branches scraped at them as they broke through the tree line. Cvareh’s right eye was gouged out by a rogue wooden hook and he cried out in pain, fighting to keep his focus on the task at hand while his eye slowly regrew. He swung right and left, pulling on the handles, his magic straining to keep them aloft and avoid the thick trunks of the trees.

They came in hot and fast, crashing against the ground and sending a tidal wave of brush, leaves, and dirt scattering away in all directions. Two people up front were thrown off, and Florence nearly was as well. Cvareh grabbed for the young woman, pinning her against his chest as he grabbed the railing with his other hand. The glider finally slammed into a fallen tree, tipping forward and purging the last of its contents.

Cvareh twisted in the air, placing himself between Florence and the ground. He had all the wind knocked out of him and his back was shredded from a twig or ten as they skidded to a stop. He panted for air, not moving for a long moment.

Florence did the same before rolling off him with a groan. They both let the world spin and slowly settle into place. The high canopy of the forest was thick, not allowing any of the ambient light from the moon above the clouds that coated Loom through. It wasn’t much better than the Underground.

Loom was a dark world of gray people and horrors. It was full of struggle and nine-hundred and ninety-nine reasons to die. The Fenthri were the people who found the one reason to live, time and again.

As if to prove the point, Florence sat with a groan. The girl, for all her bruises and exhaustion, moved before he did. He watched her blink, trying to process in the darkness.

She jumped when a large rumble shook the earth, followed by the boom of an explosion through the trees. The airship had finally joined them. Florence grabbed her shirt over her heart, struggling to her feet, pushing herself forward, stumbling, getting up again, striving to get to her teacher.

Cvareh wouldn’t let her struggle alone. He stood as well, crossing to her front and kneeling with his back to her.

“We’ll move faster if you let me carry you.”

Understanding, Florence wrapped her arms around his shoulders, letting him grab her thighs. She weighed next to nothing. He suspected her long raven colored hair was half of her overall mass. He knew where they were headed, and started in that direction.

“Where are you going?” one of the other Fenthri called to them. “We should stay with the glider. They’ll send search parties from Keel.”

“You can wait. We had someone on the airship we’re going to find,” Florence replied.

“No one survived that. And going wandering in the Skeleton Forest alone is just inviting the endwig to attack,” the man cautioned.

“You don’t know the woman we’re looking for. There’s no way she’d let a little airship crash kill her.”

“Suit yourselves.” The man shrugged. He pulled a signal flare from the compartment of the glider and shot it up into the air.

Cvareh and Florence walked in the opposite direction. He set a sustainable pace, quick but not fast enough to exhaust him before they reached their destination. Florence’s small head rested on his shoulder, her breathing consistent in his ear.

“Thank you for going back for her,” she whispered.

“You never had any doubt I would.” He smiled tiredly at himself.

“It’s in the opposite direction of where you want to go.”

“No.” He shook his head. “This is the exact direction I want to go.”

The three of them had set out for the Alchemists’ Guild together. They would make it together, he resolved. He wasn’t leaving Arianna behind. He still had a lot to learn about the woman. He wanted to understand every flavor he’d ever tasted of her. He wanted to know what made shadows cloud her eyes in broad daylight. He wanted to know what made her different from anyone he’d ever met.

They arrived at the crash site without incident. Panting, Cvareh eased Florence to the ground. He took gulps of air, trying to split through the scents.

“Ari!” Florence called. “Arianna!”

Smoke, oil, coal, grease, steel, iron, wood, bronze, pine. They filled his nose, lit up like a giant candle and the twisted airship was the wick. He walked in a circle, inviting every scent.

Then he got a waft of strawberry. Cvareh looked around him in panic for the light, out-of-place scent. Leona. Where was she?

His talons shot out from his fingers. A growl rose in his throat. If the King’s Bitch survived at Arianna’s expense, he would switch them personally in the chambers of Lord Xin. He would steal his Fenthri’s soul back from the gods themselves.

The scent led him to a sight he wasn’t expecting. He should’ve known what it meant when it didn’t move. Leona’s body had been thrown from the airship and lay face-first in the pine needles not far off, her ruby-colored skin illuminated by the orange flames. Cvareh knew she was dead before he flipped her over and saw the hole in her chest.

Arianna had done it. She’d killed the King’s Master Rider. Cvareh wanted to cheer, but a sort of quiet fear underscored the thought. This was Leona, a woman with more beads than any other Rider. She was known for being equal parts ruthlessness and loyalty. And she’d been felled by a Chimera.

The wind shifted, and his nose was no longer cluttered with the smoke and flame.

“Who is that?” Florence called nervously, seeing the body he was crouched over.

“We’re safe, for now. She’s dead.” Cvareh stood, sniffing the air. It was clear and fresh, just the heady scent of pine riding the wind. Had he imagined it?

Another gust, and the rogue scent of cedar cut through the trees, accented by honeysuckle. It brightened the night and restored his every sense. His feet found strength, his heart beat harder, his mouth watered. Even his magic pulsed outward, an automatic reaction to the magic he had imbibed.

It was like smelling his favorite meal when he hadn’t eaten for months. It was like finding the accent to a fine coat. He didn’t need her, but gods he wanted her.

Arianna lay prone a short distance from Leona’s glider. She’d been trying to fly it away, he realized. Magic that most Dragons struggled to muster, she’d tackled when presented with no other choice.

“Ari! Is it Ari?” Florence was slow behind him. He heard her curse under her breath as she collapsed against a tree to regain her strength before continuing forward again.

“It is.” He fell to his knees beside the woman.

“Is she alive? Is she breathing? Will she be all right?”

“She’s alive.” He didn’t know the answers to the rest of her frantic questions.

The woman’s magic was weak and struggling to repair the internal bleeding that was drowning her. Her left arm was twisted and her foot was snapped. Cvareh popped them back into place so they’d heal right.

Even unconscious, the pain of it brought a moan from Arianna’s lips.

“Can you give her your magic? Like she gave you?” Florence asked.

It would certainly help. But he’d never let anyone imbibe off him before. It raised warning flags, despite the fact that she’d let him consume her magic.

Scowling at himself, Cvareh bit his tongue. Blood filled his mouth from where his canine had pierced the muscle. His hands grabbed her cheeks gently, situating her face upward. He couldn’t stop his thumb from smearing away the remnants of the drawn Guild Mark. It was nothing but a blemish on her beautiful face.

Gently prying open her lips, Cvareh leaned forward. He felt her breath on his cheek as his face neared. His own lips parted slightly, letting the blood drip into her mouth. He waited, mouth on hers, for her reflex to swallow.

For a woman who looked like she was made of stone and steel, she was soft and warm. She was strong, and yet in that moment seemed so fragile under his hands. He opened his mouth again, letting more blood—more magic—seep into her.

He didn’t like this delicate Arianna. He wanted the woman he knew back. He wanted the woman who would challenge him at every turn. Drive him crazy. Push him to the edge that made him want to cling harder and beg for more. He wanted it all. He wanted her to always be at his side, threatening to cut him if he was stupid.

His magic began to grow in her. He felt the connection of warmth it sparked from his body to hers. Like an ember fanned to a flame by both of their lives. They were entwined, slowly, surely, certainly. As long as he lived, she would. He would see to that much.

He opened his mouth again and her tongue pressed against his, her mouth moving to fit his hungrily. Her teeth raked against his lip and blood smeared between them.

Cvareh’s fingers pressed around the back of her neck, and he almost held his breath. He wanted to stop time for her, with her, so that he could savor her shamelessly for another long moment. But he pulled away, meeting her open eyes—they glowed the color of lavender in the night, heightened by the flood of his magic.

She didn’t push him away, she didn’t scold him, she didn’t reach for her daggers—if she even still had them. Arianna stared up at him, and he stared down at her, holding her face, holding her in the small corner of the world in which they existed. And if he were to exist nowhere else, ever, he would be content.

“I finally know what you taste like,” she whispered.

If she had asked, he would’ve let her have a second chance at the flavor.