by Elise Kova
Arianna pulled him from the boat with the crash of a wave. He tried to nimbly exit the skiff and was met with mixed success. Luckily, his flailing was kept to a minimum this time, and Arianna didn’t feel the need to have another heart to heart.
She unclipped a small disk from her harness, settled it into the boat, then waded into the water far enough that she could free the vessel from the tug of the waves. They walked together up the shoreline with cautious stares trained at the dark guard towers. Four towers, and only two were ever manned at once. His eyes darted between the three corners he could see, fighting for some sign of where the guards might be. It was his first taste of the harrowing feeling of possibility being watched without knowing by who or from where.
They slunk between spikes of all sizes, erected to ward off ships that would ram the prison for a mass breakout, to the base of one of the towering walls. Without hesitation, Arianna’s hands adjusted the cabling through her harness and freed her clip. She spared one glance for him. That was all the confirmation Cvareh knew he would receive.
She closed the gap between them, her hips flush against his, her abdomen pushing into his body as she bent backward, seeking space to navigate the cabling around them. Cvareh swallowed, wondering if she could hear his heartbeat when she leaned into him like that to tether them together. Life and power surged through her, a blend unlike any he had ever known. Knowing that he’d soon have it again made him crave it all the more. It made him want to cling to her until he had bled her dry.
His arms snaked around her back, holding her to him. He was slowly going mad, and she couldn’t be calmer; he couldn’t even hear a whisper of her heart. Arianna gave a small nod and Cvareh braced himself against the howling winds of time.
He breathed it into him, letting his lungs become a cocoon for the sands of the hourglass. It burned instantly, all the way down his throat. Like a flock of birds, they fought and scratched against his insides, seeking freedom from their unnatural cage. The world slowed as he gained dominance over the minutes of the clock and in seconds that felt like eons, he won control over time itself.
Arianna was moving. He felt her magic clearly through the vacuum of space he had created. As his magic encased her, her magic ensnared him. They were their own world and Cvareh was barely aware of movement. He focused only on keeping control as time fought for freedom from his lungs.
It shredded his insides, filling him with blood. His lungs began to decay, becoming necrotic in mere moments due to magical exhaustion. The world shuddered. He wouldn’t be able to hold his breath for another second.
She slammed him against the wall. A scream tried to escape his throat, but all that was there was blood. It poured down her shoulder in the darkness. Arianna pushed herself against him. She clutched his waist, her feet planted.
“Do it.”
He was too happy to oblige.
Cvareh yanked on the back of her hood, catching hair with it. Her head twisted backward and pulled her face into a grimace, exposing the one part of her body that wasn’t covered in layers of fabric. Magic faltered within him, struggling and failing to heal his ailing lungs.
He sunk his teeth into her eagerly. He fought to keep himself from tearing out strips of her neck in his zeal for her power. Cedar and honeysuckle flooded his mouth, mixing with the smoky musk of his blood spewed on her shoulder.
It was pure power. It was the essence of life. More than anything, it was her.
He invaded her through her magic, pillaging and rummaging through every dark corner. He could smell the tang of regret harrowing her behind every shadowed awning of her memories. He could hear the echoes of longing crying out through the lonely hallways of her daily consciousness. He could feel the heat from the flames that consumed her waking moments whole, a pyre in the lighthouse of her wayward morality that burned for one thing alone: vengeance.
She was an enigma, a strange creature of contrasts. And, for the briefest moments when he imbibed off her living flesh and blood, she was his.
Arianna pulled herself from him, and he barely relinquished. Drunk off her power, his mind swam, clouded. Her hand flew up to her shoulder, smearing the blood from where his lungs had failed and come up golden, covering her wound until it healed. Their eyes met and he felt the same urge as he had last time—the want to drown in her.
She lowered her hand, her stare wavering but not breaking. Her eyes challenged him to say something, to move for her again, to do anything. She threatened the same in kind. He could read every twitch of her muscles. She wanted to level the score, to put him in as vulnerable a position as he had just had her.
What was equally terrifying and thrilling was in that moment, he would have let her.
21. ARIANNA
There was nothing like this feeling. She had experienced much in her twenty-two years of life. But the sensation of someone stripping her down to an essence that even she couldn’t describe was incomparable to any other situation she had found herself in.
Arianna had devoted herself to person and cause. She had wholly and completely loved as a friend, as a lover. But this was something entirely different.
And utterly terrifying.
Once more she was caught bare before him and she hadn’t even scratched his surface. Her hands twisted in his clothing, ill-fitting and basic as it was. She wanted to rip it off and push him down. She wanted to sink her teeth into him and show him that their world moved on her terms.
It had only been seconds since they ascended through the empty window of the guard tower. But time falling back into place had made it seem like an eternity. The nagging sensation of things moving once more brought her attention back to the present. The sound of footsteps nearing reminded her of where and who she was, what she was doing.
She was Arianna. She was the White Wraith. And she had a job to do.
Her fingers relinquished him, quickly working to unstrap his body from hers. The cabling retreated into its spool with a thought. She kept her eyes from his until the effects of the imbibing wore off both of them. She had no interest in making herself vulnerable again before him. He had already made her feel that way without even knowing it.
The only way arrogance and confidence are similar is that both can get you killed, Arianna. The words echoed back through her mind from a woman long dead. This man, this Dragon—he was nothing like her Eva. Arianna refused to accept it.
Arianna pulled out a token. On it was an alchemical rune. Florence said the range wouldn’t be terribly far, but exactly how far “terribly” was, she couldn’t quite say. Ari pressed her thumb into the rune and pushed her magic through it, willing heat. It shattered under her fingertips and, at exactly the same moment, an explosion cut chaos into the quiet night.
The bomb on their skiff drew the attention of the exterior guards and Arianna bounded through the interior door of the tower. A long tunnel connected the outer wall with the guard tower, one of four. Through the window slits on either side, Arianna got her first glimpse of the floating prison. Concrete and steel fitted together to construct a grim image of desolation. Every cell had an open barred wall facing a narrow walk that spiraled around the entirety of the prison—the only way up or down.
On the edge of the walk, facing the inner tower, were painted the numbers of each cell. Arianna quickly made a note of the highest and lowest. Once she knew that, she could calculate approximately where any cell was using basic estimations of height and spacing. The largest variable remained finding what numbers she needed.
The door at the end of the suspended, tunneled bridge opened. A circled Revo leveled a gun with a golden barrel at them, his vermilion eyes nearly glowing in the darkness. She didn’t even miss a step. She kept charging down the stretch head on.
His wrist tensed and Ari slammed herself against the right wall. Cvareh moved in lockstep, pressing himself on the opposite wall as she had hounded him to do—when in doubt, she went right, he left. The gunshot was louder than an engine’s piston firing and she
was certain her ears were bleeding, though her magic worked immediately to repair the damage.
Cvareh winced, covering his ears. But Arianna had a different kind of instinct. Her gun was already drawn. The trigger was pulled before the Revo had time to lower his.
But he was well trained, and he predicted her shot, falling to the ground at a diagonal. Arianna dropped her gun, reaching for her daggers. The man stood, bringing a fist covered in brass knuckles into her gut. Her stomach collapsed, expending the air in her. She curved forward and used the momentum to bring the dagger into his throat, tearing through his windpipe.
“Grab my gun!” she shouted to Cvareh, pushing through the door to engage with the other guard at the top of the Tower.
The woman knocked the knife from Ari with the side of her revolver, then grabbed for Ari’s wrist, holding it away as she tried to lock the muzzle of the gun onto her face. Ari spun, slamming her opponent into the wall, the other dagger in her hand. The woman twisted her grip.
Gunfire echoed through the small, barren room, a pockmark steaming in the ceiling from an incendiary round that narrowly missed Arianna’s head. The woman slammed her foot into Arianna’s heel, trying to trip her. Ari held fast with a grimace.
A steely blue hand jutted over her shoulder, grabbing the woman’s neck. Ari felt the heat from her Dragon at close proximity. She watched the muscles in his forearm tense as they pushed his claws through the woman’s throat, killing her instantly. He withdrew, shaking the red blood off his hand with a grimace and then held out her gun.
“Thank you.” Arianna accepted her weapon from the man and trusted he’d hear the words in more ways than one.
“Lead. I’ll have your back.” He glanced back toward the hall. Both their sets of Dragon ears were picking up fast-running footsteps, men and women alerted to their presence by the commotion.
“I’ll trust you with it, then.” The words were cumbersome. Her lips didn’t want to form them, but Arianna discovered that something could be right and uncomfortable at the same time. Her footsteps stalled as she rounded the staircase leading down the central watchtower.
He looked at her in confusion. That same emotion was reflected in her every thought. She had left someone behind before. She had done so knowing they would die for her sake, for the sake of their mission.
Arianna held up an accusatory finger. “Dragon, don’t you dare die on me.”
Cvareh was visibly taken aback at the proclamation.
“I want my boon,” she added hastily, and disappeared further down the Tower.
There were five guards, of this she was now certain. Two sets of footsteps from watchers in the Towers. The two they’d killed in the central guard tower. And one below her still.
But time was still of the essence. The explosion from their skiff was likely to draw attention on the shore, assuming none of the guards had fired some kind of signal flare she and Cvareh missed from being indoors since time stopped. Logically, reinforcements were coming, and Arianna gave them six minutes across the stretch of water between the floating prison and the mainland, and perhaps another ten to get themselves and a boat in order—she’d round down to fifteen.
It meant she had ten minutes left to kill the remaining guards, find the cell she needed, break out Florence’s friends, steal a boat, and evade any pursuers on the water. Ari grinned wildly, flashing her teeth as a volley of gunfire rang out between her and the guard before her, echoed by shots above. Plenty of time.
The man ahead used a single round shotgun, powerful but slow. He knew it too as he reached for the saber strapped to his hip. Swords. Now there was something she didn’t mess with. Swords were archaic and only two types of people used them as a result: arrogant newbie Revos who wanted to show off, and masters. Since the man bore a black circle, she wasn’t betting on the former.
The slightly curving blade echoed against its scabbard, its single edge gleaming wickedly in the lamplight. Arianna grabbed for her cabling, quickly clipping her dagger to it. Her weapons wouldn’t stand up; she knew when she was bested. So it was time to throw a skill of her own into play. Magic.
Her dagger fluttered around him like an annoying fly. He batted it away with his sword, dodging and half-stepping closer. Arianna tuned out the sounds of the battle above her and targeted the Revo. Malice burned through her, ignited by frustration. She didn’t want to kill this man or his allies, she had no delight in it. Their deaths were a means to her end, more bodies sacrificed upon the altar of the lost future she had been striving to build alone in the years following the collapse of the last resistance.
He didn’t stand a chance against the beam of pure energy that fired right through his chest.
Ari holstered her gun and leaned against the wall, catching her breath. She was killing Fenthri for a Dragon. It was a truth so insane she had no other option but to believe it was real. Yet she couldn’t muster the same hatred for Cvareh. There was a desperate sort of survival in him too.
She shook her head with a breathless laugh at herself. I actually believe he’s fighting against the Dragon King. What was the world coming to?
The commotion above quieted as Arianna reached the central office of the prison. A shelf of large ledgers directed her to exactly what she needed to know. There were only a few things to monitor in a prison, after all: the scheduling of the guards, general maintenance, food, and who was where.
“Glad to see you could manage two Revos,” she remarked as a familiar set of footsteps treaded down the stairs.
“Did you have any doubt?” He wasn’t even winded.
“When it comes to you, I have nothing but doubt.” Ari glanced over her shoulder. He had a few cuts that were already healing and half his sleeve seemed to have been blown off, exposing cut muscle beneath. “Did you shoulder a shot straight on?”
“They weren’t expecting it.” Cvareh stood at her side, looking at the ledger she was assessing. She was impressed, but he saved her from saying so when he pointed at the list of names. “Shouldn’t we just call out and ask for them by name?”
She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Yes, because no other prisoner would claim to be someone they’re not at the prospect of escape.”
“Point taken.” He turned, leaning against the table and closing his eyes. “Sounds like we’re alone.”
“For now,” she agreed. “Though more will be here soon.” Her eyes fell on the names she had been searching for. Arianna dragged her finger across the page, checking the dates they were imprisoned against when she met Florence. It matched. “But we have who we need.”
The floors of the tower that were eye-level with the cells had only slats for windows. The wider ones were at the top, where a guard could survey both prison and sea without being visible. Arianna looked out over the compound. Shouts and calls were starting to rise from inmates who realized something was amiss.
“There.” She pointed at an enclosed tunnel on the ground. Bloody everything was enclosed so the guards were never visible to the prisoners. “Run down the Tower and get halfway through that tunnel. Use this.”
“How?” Despite his confusion, Cvareh accepted the disk she passed him.
Arianna ran his fingers over the alchemical rune Florence had etched onto the surface of the bomb. “Here, focus your magic here. Imagine it heating, melting.”
“Right.” He bolted for the stairs.
“And make sure you’re a good distance away when you do!” Arianna called after him.
“Count on me!” he shouted back.
Arianna gripped her golden line tightly. That was the dangerous thing. The longer they spent together, the more she thought she could.
Hopping up on the windowsill, Arianna glanced down, finding numbers 127 and 138. Unfortunately, the prison was too well run to put partners in crime next to each other. But they were at least close. She set her sights on the higher of the two, her line shooting out and latching to the bars of a cell just above.
The shouts of the offended
prisoner whose cell she used as an anchor point were drowned out by the rush of wind in her ears as she leapt into the open air. Her winch box whirred, pulling her up as she arced across the length of the gap between the inner tower and the cells. Kicking out her feet, Ari tumbled onto the narrow spiraling walkway, her cord unhooking and retracting into its spool.
“Falling airships, woman!” the girl behind the bars exclaimed. “The Vicar Raven know you got that setup? Because I’m thinking she may want a schematic.”
“Do I look like someone who’d work with the Vicar Raven?” Arianna turned her cheeks.
“Unmarked? Be careful or they’ll lock you in here too. You’ve too much talent for them to just kill. They’ll try to break you first.” The girl grinned madly. She folded her hands behind her back, swaying from toe to heel.
“Dead men don’t lock doors, Helen.”
“Guard killer and you know my name? Aren’t you just the epitome of mystery?” The girl laughed and shook her head. Hair that Arianna presumed was once the color of snow hung in dingy, matted chunks around her face. No one ever praised the floating prison for its treatment of inmates.
“Add, ‘the woman who broke you out’ to that list.” Arianna unrolled a strip of tools attached to her hip, setting on the lock. She whistled to herself. “Now, what Rivet built this?”
“A master, I think.” Helen watched in amusement. “Some of the other Rivets here have tried. You have tools, but I don’t know if…”
Arianna tuned her out. The lock had a closed front, no keyhole. All screws and connectors were concealed within, making disassembly difficult. The key slot was thin and flat, which Ari presumed to mean the keys were like cards embedded with a series of notches that depressed tumblers at the opposite end of the lock box.
