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.
