by Elise Kova
Taking Florence by the hand, she practically dragged the girl from the room. She had to get on the lift before Sophie had a chance to really look at what Cvareh had brought her. But Arianna knew there would only be so long she could avoid that conversation.
37. CVAREH
He watched Arianna go, magic still arcing between his veins like electricity. The desire to not let her out of his sight no longer stemmed only from his growing fondness for the woman, but now from his desire to fulfill her every wish—any wish. All she had to do was ask it of him. He feared the longer she went without demanding the boon of him, the further her very presence would drive him to insanity.
Still, he struggled for focus on the matter at hand instead of the Chimera who had just left the room. The woman was staring wide-eyed at the papers, slowly thumbing through them. He suspected from her expression alone that she already knew what they contained.
“They’re for the Philosopher’s Box,” he announced proudly. “I uncovered that the King had acquired them from a Rivet here on Loom during the last rebellion. I’m afraid I don’t know all the details of what or how, but I thought it could be of use.”
The woman placed them aside on the table, looking at him skeptically. It was not the reaction he’d been expecting, to say the least.
“I’ve traveled quite far to bring them to you. House Xin hopes the schematics can be finished and once they are, we will supply the necessary Dragon organs to see perfect Chimeras made,” he fumbled over his words. The more he talked, the less she seemed inclined to him. “I know they’re unfinished but—”
“You have no idea what you’ve brought me, do you?” The Vicar placed her hands on her hips.
“I know exactly what they are,” he insisted. This was not how it was supposed to go, not in the slightest. At the least he’d hoped for some gratitude for his assistance. All he was getting instead was skepticism and a small dose of amusement.
“How, exactly, did you find out they were there?” The Vicar folded her fingers before her.
“I overheard a conversation in the villa of the Dragon King.”
“And why were you there?”
“I’m the Ryu—the second in command of House Xin,” he clarified. “It’s not uncommon for noblemen and women to be invited as guests of the King.” It was a sort-of lie. Noblemen and women from across Nova were invited on various occasions to visit with the Dono or attend his Crimson Court. Members of House Xin, less so, certainly. But that hadn’t been why he’d been there that day. Cvareh kept his mouth shut over the true nature of his then-purpose. He didn’t want to add to her skepticism by confessing he’d been visiting his brother.
“You’re either a well-trained liar, intentionally kept in the dark, or are the most oblivious creature I have ever met.” She shook her head, fanning out the papers in the limited space on the table.
“Why?” Horror at the idea that the documents weren’t what he’d been led to believe crept over him as if Lord Xin himself had come from the afterworld for Cvareh’s immortal soul. “Are they not for the Philosopher’s Box?”
“They most certainly are,” she affirmed to his relief.
“Then they should be invaluable to the resistance,” he insisted. “And the fact that House Xin would risk both our station and the life of their Ryu to deliver them to you should speak volumes of our loyalty. The King’s Riders pursued me in a failed attempt at assassination for these. Just confirm with Ari or Florence.” He prayed Arianna wouldn’t fabricate something else to knowingly spite him.
“Ari? She lets you call her by that name?”
“Well…” He hesitated. He hadn’t ever been given express permission.
Vicar Sophie laughed, shaking her head again. “You are oblivious on all fronts, then.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she continued, finally ending their game of cat and mouse.
“You come to Loom seeking our trust for your House. But you don’t seem to grasp why we would distrust you in the first place.”
“I know what the Dragons have done to Loom. I know you wouldn’t have reason to trust me.” Being treated like a child was grating.
“You know why any Fenthri might harbor dislike for the Dragons. But you don’t grasp why we would,” she emphasized. “It may be as you say, that you risk your life in trying to bring these to us. But you don’t know what you’ve brought with you of far greater value.”
“Stop talking in riddles.”
“You thought I would find value in these schematics, when you have brought me the woman who created them?” Sophie smiled as the realization hit Cvareh.
“The-the woman who created them?” he repeated dumbly, at a loss for all other words.
“You call her Ari, like you’re close. But you have no idea who she really is, do you?”
No denial could parry the sword of truth the woman brandished. It cut a bleeding line into his heart atop the space where Arianna’s name had been etched, and left the wound to fester with the faint smell of betrayal.
38. FLORENCE
Derek led her into a small room. A chair was in the center of it, restraints hanging ominously off its edges. Florence eyed them with trepidation. But anything would be better than the way she felt now. She was exhausted all the time, unsteady on her feet, and over the past few days had felt strange pains beginning to creep up on her that were becoming worse and worse, and took longer and longer to go away.
“It hurts,” Derek explained, seeing her staring at the restraints. “But we can’t have you thrashing about when it happens or you may rip out one of the transfusion lines. If you did, that’s the end of it.”
“I see.” Florence was happy to have an explanation, even if it was a miserable one.
“Unfortunately, we can’t give you anything for the pain.” He motioned for the chair. “Since the blood is being purged and cycled through your body, anything we could give would be out in minutes.”
“I understand.” She sat down, willing herself to be still as he began working on the restraints.
Derek paused at her wrist. His steam colored eyes drifted up to her. “It’s okay to be scared.”
“I’m not scared.”
“You’re trembling.” He shook his head, tightening the leather around her wrists. “What made you want to be a Chimera? To propel engines?”
He was taking note of her Ravens’ Guild Mark. “I’m actually a Revo.”
“Oh? I bet you fool a lot of people then.” He accepted her declaration. It was something that Florence wasn’t used to.
“I do,” she agreed hesitantly.
“If it gets too much, we’ll give you something to clamp down on so you don’t bite your tongue off.” His hands tightened the strap around her forehead.
“Is that a legitimate concern?” If she was only trembling before, she was shaking now. Every muscle in her body was tense. “I don’t understand this—what’s about to happen?”
Derek paused what he was doing with the brass mechanism at the chair’s side. “We slowly begin to take out your blood. I’ll monitor your vitals; the more blood we can take out without completely killing you, the better.”
“What’s the difference between ‘completely’ and ‘incompletely’ killing someone?”
He chuckled. “Right, sorry, Revo… ‘Completely’ meaning that your body has gone far enough into failure that magic alone will not be able to revive you.”
She made a noise of comprehension.
“At which point, we begin introducing Dragon blood, slowly. It mixes with what’s left of your blood and your body acclimates to the magic.”
“That’s why Chimera blood is black and not gold or red?”
“Exactly.” Derek smiled reassuringly. After the vote of confidence from the Vicar he had warmed up significantly, and Florence was never more grateful than she was in that second of sitting in the chair waiting.
“So, why does it hurt?” Nothing sounded particularly terrible. Even if he cut her t
o make her bleed, she’d endured worse pains.
“Fenthri bodies aren’t made for housing magic. I’m sure you’re familiar with forsaken Chimera?” She nodded and he continued. “When the Dragon blood is first introduced and hits your system, it’s…well, for lack of better words, killing you. But it begins to heal you almost at the same time. Since we do it slowly, it doesn’t actually result in death.” His voice trailed off and Florence’s mind treacherously filled in “normally” for him at the end.
“So I’m dying and being revived a bunch, in a row.” Florence looked at the ceiling, bracing herself. “Well, I’ve never died before, so at least I get to cross that off my list.”
Derek laughed. “You’re an odd one, aren’t you?”
“That’s what you get for planning to run away from your guild at thirteen, doing so at fourteen, meeting the White Wraith, and becoming her explosives resource in the span of two years.”
“Yes, that would do it.” He processed her words for a long moment. “The White Wraith, the spurn of Dortam?”
“The same,” Florence affirmed.
“Never imagined I’d see a legendary fighter of Dragons keeping the company of one.”
“Cvareh isn’t like most Dragons.” Florence was instantly defensive. She was exhausted on his behalf of everyone assuming the worst of him.
“Oh, I know.”
“You do?”
He nodded.
“How?”
“Because not most Dragons willingly offer their blood to make a Chimera.”
“What?”
“What do you think we’ve been waiting on?”
Within the next minute, the door opened and Cvareh appeared. Sure enough, he sat down on a small stool next to her. Florence looked on in shock.
“You’re giving me your blood?” She wished she could find more eloquent words, but all else failed her.
“Technically, I’ve been doing that for some time already.”
“But that was necessary.”
“As is this.” He leaned against the wall. “I’m the one who brought you here, who took you from your home. I feel responsible for the fact that you’re in that chair.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“I do.”
“Well you shouldn’t—” Her reason was interrupted by the needle that pierced the flesh of her forearm. A second punctured her bicep a little further up and the machine at her side began to whir.
“You’re going to start feeling sleepy,” Derek informed her. “But I need you to stay awake as long as possible.”
Florence watched in fascination as a tank of blood began to fill in the machine. The Alchemist walked around the room, puncturing Cvareh’s offered arm. Sure enough, her eyelids grew heavy, her head thick.
“Florence, stay with us,” Derek demanded.
“Right, right…” she mumbled. Compliance was becoming awfully difficult. Her vision blurred and her thoughts became sluggish. She wanted to talk, but she had reached a point at which she was no longer certain she could say anything at all.
That’s when the pain hit her.
A different set of gears was now whirring on the machine. It was pumping blood from Cvareh’s veins into hers. Just as Derek said, the sensation was excruciating. Florence tried to avoid screaming, but eventually failed.
“Hang in there, Flor.” A large hand closed around hers. “I’m here… It’ll be over soon.”
“Well, actually—” Derek started unhelpfully but was stopped short.
“It’ll be over soon,” Cvareh insisted.
She tried to pry open her eyes. She tried to make sense of what was happening. But it felt like knives were being stabbed into her muscles straight to her bones, only to shear the meat from her skeleton.
Florence breathed heavily. She tried to think of anything else, but the pain was blinding and everywhere. It flowed from her arm but soon it was behind her eyes, under her heels, in her chest; there wasn’t a place it didn’t touch.
“Florence.” A stern voice cut through the noises of her agony. “Florence, look at me.”
She pried open her eyes and her attention drifted from Cvareh to the new voice that had joined them. Arianna’s mouth was set in a grim, determined line. The woman’s hand was curled around Florence’s fingers alongside Cvareh’s.
“I made it through this, and you are stronger than me,” Arianna declared.
Florence mentally disagreed, but the thought escaped only as a whimper, as if her body wanted to prove her point for her.
“Hang in there, Flor, a little longer.”
They both spoke words of encouragement—more like sweet lies—as she suffered for what seemed like a whole week. But, sure enough, it slowly began to pass and the light at the end of her tunnel vision began to sharpen and grow. Her chest heaved. She couldn’t get enough air.
Her body transitioned from utter pain to feeling stronger than it ever had. She could feel the fatigue leaving her muscles. The strain of tensing constantly while she’d been in agony was smoothed away magically. Despite the excruciating suffering, Florence wondered why she hadn’t made the transition sooner. It felt that good.
“Looks like she’s out of it,” Derek noted. “We’ll run this for a bit longer, until her blood runs nearly gold.”
“I thought my blood would be black?” she rasped. Her vocal chords had yet to knit from all the screaming.
“It will be,” the Alchemist affirmed. “But we want as much Dragon blood in you as we can get. And since we have a willing donor, well, let’s be a little selfish, no?”
“I don’t want to hurt Cvareh,” she breathed, her voice slowly coming back. The magic seemed to place priority on what was vital, followed by functions she put demands on—like her sight or voice.
“You’re not going to hurt me,” he insisted.
“The Dragon is right. His body produces blood much faster than yours does, even as a new Chimera,” Derek said. “Your blood will run black when his fades and your body begins producing new Chimera blood on its own. We just reprogrammed your liver, in essence.”
Florence nodded and Derek began removing the restraints. He left only the ones on her right arm until he finally turned off the machine and plucked the needles from her skin nonchalantly. Florence watched as she bled a dark gold that was quickly stopped by her flesh knitting.
“Just rest here for a bit. Don’t try to get up yet.” He started for the door. “I’m going to get some medicine, just to be safe, and some food.”
“Then it’s to bed with you,” Arianna finished as he left the room.
Florence smiled tiredly at her. Ari always had looked out for her, ever since they first met. It wasn’t until this trip that Florence really noticed the fact. And her opinion of it shifted colors alongside her blood.
“Did you ever think I would be a Chimera?” She flexed her hand, imagining herself as much stronger than she likely was.
“No, and I wish you didn’t have to endure that,” Arianna muttered.
“But I’m rather glad I did.” She spoke softly, hoping her words didn’t upset Arianna too terribly.
“Flor—”
“Ari,” for the first time, Florence interrupted her teacher with purpose. “I can be someone now. It didn’t hit me until I was here, until we made this journey. But I can do more than just make guns and bombs. I can use them. Everyone here is fighting, and I can help them.”
“What are you saying?” Quiet panic tinted her voice.
“I want to help the rebellion.”
“They haven’t confirmed there is one,” Arianna pointed out.
Florence gave her a look that she hoped communicated how much she appreciated being treated like she was stupid. “Well, if there is, I want to help.”
“Why?” Arianna’s arms dropped to her side. Her shoulders fell. Even Cvareh took note of the uncharacteristic change in the woman.
“Ari, you taught me to believe in possibility. I escaped the Ravens not because I truly wa
nted to find my calling, but because I just didn’t want to be killed when I couldn’t pass the aptitude test.” Florence sat straighter, her back coming off the recline of the chair. “You were the one who taught me to see Loom as it could be. You wanted me to strive to dream, and I thought you were crazy but I did it anyway because you were the person who saved me and because I wanted to appease you. I never saw it.
“But I see it now, Arianna. I see it now, your vision. I want to fight for it with these people. I can make a difference here. I can fight for real, positive change.” Florence swallowed, Arianna’s stare a black hole that was consuming her optimism and emotions. “Y-you can too. You can do what you always wanted to do. You can really fight against the Dragons. Can we stay?”
“No,” Arianna dismissed her outright.
Florence stared in shock. “Why? Why? Isn’t this everything you ever said you wanted?”
“Flor, we were fine in Dortam, you and I. We can go back, we can live our lives.”
“You taught me to see past what Loom is to what it could be, and now that I can, now that I do, you want me to stand to the side?” Florence balked. “What did we do this for? What did you do this for? Wasn’t it for a boon to help you change this world?”
Arianna didn’t answer, and her silence stung to a degree that was nearly as great as the transition had been. Florence fell back into her chair.
“Do you really want what’s best for Loom?” she whispered. “Or do you only want what’s best for yourself?”
“Watch your tongue.”
“Watch yours, Arianna.” Florence was on her feet.
“Should you be standing?” Cvareh had been entirely forgotten.
“Don’t lie to me—tell me straight. Did you ever have any intention of really fighting to win back the Loom you claim to love? Or have you only ever fought for the past under the guise of being a champion for the future?”
Arianna scowled down at her and Florence looked up without hesitation or remorse. Maybe it was the new blood in her veins that made her bold. Maybe it was the struggles she’d overcome on the journey. But she was no longer the girl Arianna had found on the streets of Ter.4.2. She no longer needed saving, which meant Arianna could no longer fill the role of savior. Florence was becoming something more, and she needed Arianna to rise to the task and do the same.