“Was an opportunity to find that man.”
“Why haven’t you demanded it of me yet?” Cvareh’s confusion mirrored her own.
She stared at her hands. The moment she’d inhaled their scent—a scent etched on her memory by pure hatred—she knew she was close to finding the Dragon who’d called himself Rafansi. But she had yet to speak on it. She had yet to utter those words, “Take me to the man whose hands these are.” If she did, she would kill Rafansi on sight. Only she now knew he was a Xin, and an ally of Cvareh. It tore at her gut on so many levels.
“I can only ask once,” she whispered. “I want to make sure what I am asking for is what I really want.”
“Boon or not.” Cvareh sat and took her hand. “I will give you whatever you ask, Arianna.”
“Don’t offer me that.”
“Why?”
“Because you know who I am.”
“And that is precisely why I offered.”
For the first time, she was at a loss for words. She didn’t know if she should capitalize on all the closeness they’d shared over the day to have him bring her to the Dragon who had betrayed all she’d loved. She didn’t know if she should cross the remaining distance between them and kiss him. Rusted rivets, the mechanisms that spun her world whirred and Arianna was stuck in place, no longer grasping their logic.
“His name was Rafansi,” she whispered, bracing herself.
Cvareh blinked, and burst out into laughter. Arianna withdrew her hand. She didn’t know what reaction she expected, but his amusement had not been it.
“That couldn’t possibly be his name.”
“I would never forget it,” she insisted.
“Then he lied.”
It was certainly a possibility, one she hadn’t ever ruled out. Yet to affirm that she didn’t even know the man’s name yielded a certain sort of disappointment. “How can you be sure?”
“Because no Dragon parents would ever name their child that willingly.”
“Why?”
“That was the name of Lord Rok’s failed first—and only—attempt at the creation of life. The lore says Rafansi was a deformed and useless wretch of a creature who only earned his existence from Lord Rok’s pity.” Cvareh shook his head. “A life earned by pity would be the ultimate disgrace… What an awful name to even be called in secret.”
“But fitting,” she snapped in annoyance, at both Cvareh’s sympathy for the traitor and the fact it left her without a name for the man.
“Perhaps we could find him another way?” he offered, frustratingly helpful. “Do you know his House? Was he marked? What color—”
“He was Xin.”
Cvareh straightened instantly, putting distance between them.
She read him like an open book. She felt the pulse in his magic, withdrawing on instinct, reminding him that this was not a woman he should be involved with. He fought against the pull of his upbringing, though, and took her hands with renewed passion. He held her fingers tightly, his eyes pleading as if she could explain why he was doing what he was. As if she had a neat solution for everything that drove them apart.
“Be careful what you offer me, Cvareh,” she cautioned grimly, with all the sorrow of an ugly reality. “Your house looks to me to be the herald of victory. But I may well still decide to watch it burn.”
“No,” he whispered. “I won’t let you have a reason to.”
Her instant rage at him arguing with her about what she would and wouldn’t do was stilled.
“We will find this man, and then I will see you kill him.”
“You would let me kill a Xin?” She was rightly skeptical.
“A Xin who takes the name Rafansi and works for the Dragon King against our interests should not be alive.” Cvareh smiled the smallest smile of hopeful—foolishly hopeful—encouragement. “I may not be as good of a fighter as you, Arianna. But I have other uses. I can be quite good at finding information. People just say things around me they shouldn’t, like they forget I’m there entirely. I will help you find this man, and I will give him to you for judgment of his crimes.”
Her brows furrowed and her lips parted just enough to let out her speechless shock. The hands he held so fiercely were the very thing that would allow him to fulfill his promise. He was ready to give her everything she’d wanted since her world ended.
But if he did, would she be asking him to sacrifice one of his own ideals? Would their relationship survive her asking him to deliver one of his own for slaughter? She was afraid it wouldn’t, despite his earnest insistence. Arianna stared into Cvareh’s eyes, shining bright and gold against the darkness, and saw something that might just be worth more to her than her vengeance.
Those eyes were oblivious to her struggle, and easily swung away, looking to the field. “It’s starting.”
“What is?” Arianna looked as well, but her answer didn’t come from Cvareh.
As the moon reached its apex, the whispering reeds they’d walked through to the temple slowly straightened. Their egg-shaped ends peeled away, unfurling long pedals of red, lined in gold, from within. Their wavy edges tapered to points that curved opposite their center.
A fine mist, like the afterglow of neon, clouded the air above them as the plants’ superfine pollen was released into the wind. The rock before her was awash in light and magic. It soothed her weariness from the day; it gave her strength. She felt as though she could live forever if she laid among them.
Arianna stood.
“What are they?” she breathed, stepping toward the blooms. There was no mistaking it.
“The flowers of Agendi.” Cvareh was at her side, but he may as well have been back on Ruana. Arianna’s mind was moving a thousand veca a second, whirring with new possibilities. “They’re particular about where they can grow… So they’re found only here and on Lysip. They’re said to bring good luck. Do you like them?”
Arianna stepped into the cosmos that floated before her, a dance of magic turned into a fog of the whole spectrum of light. They were unmistakable. Their power even more potent than the last time she’d seen them.
“Like isn’t the right word…” Arianna trailed off into her own thoughts.
He would take her mannerisms as awe or wonder, and Arianna would let him. It was a safer assumption than the truth that now confronted her. Did she ask Cvareh for the heart of the man who had betrayed her past, at the risk of it damaging all they were, and especially when she now knew he could get her the resources she needed for the box?
Or did she give in once more and let herself dream, and perhaps even look to the possibilities of the future?
35. Florence
The door to her room slammed open, waking Florence with a start. Powell stood in the frame, his dust-colored hair seeming to fray at the ends with stress. Panting, a mess, he crossed to the bed in a long stride.