The Rebels of Gold (Loom Saga #3)

Arianna tapped her fingers against the table. Magic rippled through the muscle and bone of her forearm, pooling in her fingertips. It was a conscious effort not to unsheathe her claws and throttle the two Ravens.

“If it isn’t Helen and Will . . .” Why was she surprised? She really shouldn’t be. Arianna had last seen the girl barreling through the underground at breakneck speeds. Anyone who possessed such equal parts stupidity and suicidal tendency would certainly find her way into Louie’s employ.

“Been a while, huh?” Helen raised her hand in greeting, nonchalantly strolling over to the table. “What a small world. You work for Louie, I work for Louie…”

“I do not work for Louie,” Arianna corrected. “He works for me.”

Helen seemed taken aback by this, and her eyes swept to Louie.

“We have an arrangement.” It wasn’t much in the way of concession on Louie’s part. But Arianna was operating under the idea of choosing her battles at present, and this one wasn’t worth fighting.

“I knew you stooped low, but working with children, Louie?” Arianna keenly remembered Louie’s statement regarding Florence being “observed” by one of his lackeys. Was he keeping Helen and Will here by force, to get back at the girl? “What threats did you have to make?”

“Flor introduced us,” Helen announced, as if it was something to be proud of. Well, Ravens were notorious for rushing in headfirst with reckless abandon. “She’s been busy while you’ve been having a vacation on Nova.”

“I was not on vacation,” Arianna snapped.

“Whatever you’ll call it then.”

“Enough of that, both of you.” Louie leaned against the wall, looking as though he could hardly stand for another moment. “We’re all on the same side. No need to be at each other’s throats.”

Arianna could think of quite a few reasons to be at the throats of everyone in the room. But, begrudging as she was to admit it, for now it did suit them all to get along.

“I’ve already begun to fill in the Wraith on our airship,” Louie said to Helen and Will.

“I had some ideas for that.” Will approached with caution, and Arianna regarded him in kind. At her side, he leaned over and pointed at a hollow point in the wing of the glider. “I think, right here, we can use it as a main sort of magic artery for lift in both wings.”

“Save on gold by piping in the wings instead of on the outside . . .” Arianna’s mind folded and unfolded the idea onto the blueprints before her, seeing how they laid atop the glider. “It could be possible.” She pointed to the back of the wing. “Discharge through here?”

“Not unless you don’t want us to be able to turn.” Will shook his head. “Need movements in the flaps.”

“How about the end of the wing then?” It was like her mind betrayed her; helping them along was the last thing she wanted to be doing. But it would get her to Florence. And perhaps even more important, it stretched her brain in ways it hadn’t been for months on Nova.

It was good to be home.

“That might work. I’ll need to check.”

Arianna nodded, glancing over the quantity of gold. “I’ll need a proper drafting table.” She looked up to Louie. “Somewhere I can work.”

“Does this count as a wish?” The coy bastard grinned his thin, little smile.

“Hardly.” Arianna kept her voice level, scooping the papers and tapping them on the table. “It’s a demand, and it’s necessary to give you what you asked for.”

“Yes, yes, there’s somewhere by the hangar that should suffice.”

Arianna wondered what constituted a “hangar” in Louie’s makeshift world. She wondered what counted as “suitable” too, and was more afraid of the latter than the former.

“Then let’s get to work, children.”

“I am not a child!” Helen said.

“Let’s go.” Will grabbed his friend by the elbow, tugging her from the room. Ari was short behind.

“One more thing, Arianna.”

“Yes?” She stood with the door half-open, but let it close when he gave it a pointed look. “We will stop in Holx for refueling.”

It made sense; Holx was the capital of Ter.4, and even when the world was in disarray it’d still be well stocked. “Helen and Will know you’re taking them back to the guild they escaped from?”

“They have faith I’ll look after them.” Louie waved away the concern. Arianna’s only faith in Louie was that he’d look after no one but himself. “While we’re there, I need you to acquire something for me.”

“Acquire? You mean steal.”

Louie hummed his affirmation. “You must think so poorly of me.”

“Louie, I have to care about you to think poorly of you. Die in a ditch for all it concerns me.”

“You should be more concerned, as I give you great power in this world.” Sure, he was well connected, but Arianna had every faith she could be self-sufficient without him if she needed to be. It merely suited her to go along with him, for now, as the path of least resistance.

“So, what is it that you need the White Wraith for?”

“I’ll give you the details when we arrive. In the meantime, focus on the airship and fixing your tools. They were badly damaged in your little fall.”

Arianna snorted at the word “little.” There was a time where not having her daggers would have been cause enough for panic. But now that she could produce claws from her fingertips, they seemed slightly less critical.

Arianna moved for the door but stopped. “One more thing.” She looked at the little man. “If you go back on our deal, if you give me one reason to suspect you’re out of line—”

“I’m always out of line.”

Arianna resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and chose, instead, to hold her gaze level. “I will kill you and everyone you ever loved, horribly.”

“Of course.” His mouth cracked into a smile, a wild, little grin of pure mirth. Arianna knew where his mind was before he opened his mouth to speak. “That will be easy for you, as I’ve never loved anyone but myself.”

Arianna let him have the last word. She needed time to think over how to threaten someone who fought for nothing but himself.





Coletta


The first sip was always the hardest.

Coletta poured liquid fire into her mouth. She swallowed it down, a blessing that tasted of damnation. Her fingers cupped the stone mortar, one hooking the pestle to keep it from her face. Her elbows trembled from the weight of the vessel, and the pain.

The poison reached her stomach like a throbbing punch that made her abdomen clench so tightly it pushed the air from her chest and collapsed her lungs. It unfurled agony like the wings of death and took flight through her veins, ravaging her insides. Her magic pushed against the poison on instinct, fighting to keep her knees locked, striving for consciousness.

Still, she drank from the mortar like a babe to a tit. There was delight in the hurt that came from allowing her body to be brutalized by a concoction of her own creation. She charged toward the threshold where pain became pleasure, and nimbly leapt over the edge. Death transformed to triumph.

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