But her bluff was good enough that Cvareh didn’t call it. He stared right back at her until she could take it no longer.
Arianna turned and walked out of his room, past all the Xin gathered in the hall, as though nothing in the world were bothering her. Every bit of ease on her exterior hid the heartache inside, as she left behind the Dragon King she loved.
Florence
There was no weapon like hope, and no ammunition for it like good news.
Word of the victory up on Nova spread faster and thicker than the clouds overhead. Helen, who had been up with Arianna, had whispered back to Will—their decision to get Dragon ears and set up a whisperlink hadn’t been the least bit surprising to Florence. Will informed the rest of the Queen’s minions, who ultimately dispersed the news to Shannra.
Florence knew the moment Shannra had appeared in her office that there had been victory, just by her expression alone. And because she had already had the information from someone else.
“You already know.”
“Emma was here not minutes before you left. Word funneled through the Revolvers who were up with House Xin when it happened.” Florence looked back at the list of tasks she’d begun drafting, already several items deep.
“We have claimed victory, and you are still busy at work.” Shannra looped around the desk, draping her arms over Florence’s shoulders.
“It is only the beginning—freedom is only the beginning for us. Now, we must rebuild Loom, not as it was but as it could be.” Florence was having a hard time deciding what to prioritize. Everything seemed like it needed to happen at once. And when everything was a priority, nothing was a priority.
“There is to be another Tribunal?” Shannra had no doubt focused on the first item on Florence’s list.
“At Garre. Emma is spreading the word now.”
Shannra sighed, though the noise was without any sort of real weight. “What is it with you and Tribunals?”
“I am a vicar, after all.” Florence ran a hand up Shannra’s arm, starting at where her hand met the desk, helping prop her up, all the way to her shoulder and back.
“You are the Vicar Revolver.” Shannra turned her head back to Florence. “Your place is in Dortam, not Garre.”
“And so it shall be,” Florence affirmed. “Once we are all in agreement, every vicar will return to their rightful home to begin rebuilding.”
“Will you return home alone?” Shannra asked, staring out the window behind Florence’s desk in what had become her makeshift office.
“I think you know the answer to that.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
Florence didn’t bother concealing a smile. “You will accompany me, if you so choose, as a Master Revolver.”
“Don’t think you can win me over with titles.” Shannra tilted her head coyly.
“What can I win you over with then?”
“I asked you once if we could share a flat in Dortam when all this was over. You never answered.” Shannra stared her down, as if trying to pin Florence with her eyes. “It’s all over now. I need an answer.”
Florence stood slowly. She pushed in her chair, and leaned against the desk with Shannra, facing the window, at just one small scrap of the world that was now theirs.
“Let’s see . . . A flat in Dortam, right by the Guild hall, I think it was.” Shannra hung on her every word. “I’m not sure if, as the Vicar Revolver, I can live outside the hall proper.”
“I could be coerced into being flexible on the location.”
“Could you?” Florence rounded the woman—her lover, in all her scarred and battle-weary glory. She reached a hand, cupping Shannra’s cheek, weaving her fingers in the tangled mess of hair. “What must I do to coerce you?”
“I think you will come up with something creative.” Shannra’s voice had fallen to a hush, her lids heavy. She leaned forward, ever so slightly, and Florence felt herself moving to meet her.
“I will certainly try, Moonbeam.”
Shannra halted, brows furrowed, lips pursed, eyes alert. “Moonbeam?”
“You asked me to be creative.” Florence smirked. “I can be dangerous when I’m creative.”
“Spoken like a true Vicar Revolver.” Shannra was back to whispering. “I like you dangerous, Gunpowder.”
Florence smirked at the equally heinous petname. She needed a partner who could roll with the punches and dish it out as well as she took it.
Before either of them could conceive something worse, Florence claimed the woman’s mouth with her own. Shannra’s tongue was sweeter than any cookie Florence had ever eaten.
“What about all your work?” Shannra asked after several long minutes, gasping for air.
“It will keep.”
Florence pushed aside her papers, scattering them to the floor. Yes, there was work to be done, decisions to be made, and things to be settled. But first, she had a woman to hoist onto the desk and more hard-earned flavors of freedom to relish.
Cvareh
She never told him outright that she loved him.
She had fought at his side. They had made love countless times. He had invited her to stay on Nova and be his queen, his paragon for the new bond between Loom and Nova.
In reply? She couldn’t even say that she loved him, even though he knew it was more than true with every beat of his heart.
He wanted to point it out to her. He wanted to demand it from her. But it would mean nothing if he did . . . So, the words were left unsaid in her wake, where he lapped along the shores of all they could’ve been.
Cvareh stared at where Arianna had just stood. He had done everything Petra had ever dreamed. He had accomplished the dream of hers he had adopted—a Xin’Oji now wore the title of Dono. He, Cvareh, of all Dragons, was now the Dono.
It should have been a cause for celebration. His chest should have swelled with pride so great that his ribs would shatter and be rebuilt with magic now bolstered with the knowledge that he held all of Nova in his palms. But it wasn’t.
There was no pride and no fullness. He had achieved everything, but he didn’t have the one thing he’d come to want more than anything else. He’d lost the one woman who made everything in his world worthwhile.
“Well, I suppose that makes sense.” Cain reminded him of his presence.
Startled, Cvareh half-jumped, as if pulling his feet from the tar of his own thoughts. “What does?”
“You had a boon with her this whole time.” Disapproval ran rampant between Cain’s words, though his friend didn’t pursue it. There wasn’t much to be done now about it and the fact that Cvareh had forged such had just saved his life. “Explains your obsession with the woman.”
“It’s more than that,” Cvareh mumbled.
“Is it?” Cain asked, though Cvareh knew he was already aware of the answer so he didn’t dignify the question with a response. “Call her back, then. Make her stay.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not? You’re the Dono.”
“You heard her.” Cvareh motioned to where the woman had been standing. “She can’t be contained here and I couldn’t make her.”