Her eyes had opened again. Sharper, clearer, more precise than she could’ve ever imagined. Now Arianna inspected her hands. They were the hands that Master Oliver had trained, hands that could dismantle a Rivet lock like it was nothing more than a simple bank vault.
Arianna rested her palm on the table and reached for her sharpest dagger. Her chest tightened. Nature fought against what she was about to do. Her mind flooded with endorphins as it fought against itself. Instinct commanded she jump from the table and drop the knife. It struggled with her hand, trying to force it to shake, wanting her movements to suffer so much that she gave up on them entirely.
But Arianna was stable. She kept her churning stomach quelled. She kept her breathing even.
The knife pierced her ashen flesh. It gouged sharp and true, bit to bone. Arianna bared her teeth, gritting them so hard they ached straight through her jaw and into her neck. Golden blood pooled across the table, mixing with marrow as bone splintered.
Two hands waited for her, the same color as her ears. They held the same scent as the man who had given her organs in a gesture of trust, only to turn and betray all that she loved. Arianna’s lips curled back. Her body shook. But she remained focused. She would take his magic once more. She would use it to find him.
She would kill him in blood more frigid than snow.
Arianna repeated it over and over in her head, uttered it like a violent prayer of the darkest variety. She did it again and again to keep the agony at bay as her magic fought to heal her body, to keep her mind right in the wake of shock.
She was Arianna the Rivet. She was the White Wraith. And she would not scream.
14.Cvareh
He could hear her.
He could hear every labored breath. He could hear every drop of blood splattering the floor. He could hear each dull thud of flesh that served as a chilling auditory reminder of what was happening behind the door he faced.
Cvareh hadn’t moved since being cast out. He had made no motion when he heard her quiet tinkering with the lock. He did not attempt to force entry by breaking the door frame and smashing the chair she’d propped against the latch.
She had not wanted him there. She had chosen to endure the self-surgery on her own. It was as foolish as it was brave. It clouded his emotions with both admiration for her ferocity and aggravation at her persistence that every burden be shouldered alone.
But that was Arianna. That was the torrent that pulled him under every time his eyes rested on her. And it was no wonder why he had purposefully avoided seeing her. Every complex emotion combined with the draw of the boon was too much for him. For weeks he’d wanted to run from it, and now that he was faced with her once more, literally carrying a reason to loathe her, he wanted nothing more than to be by her side. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to be alone.
Cvareh sighed heavily, closing his eyes. He pressed his forehead to the door. He could smell the bright, unique signature of her magic. It was overwhelming, no doubt from all the blood being spilled from the process of severing her own hands.
He licked his lips.
Clawed fingers curled around the door lever and Cvareh considered how much force he’d have to apply to earn entry. But even if he did, what then? What could he possibly do? He knew nothing of the ways of adding new parts to a Chimera. And somehow, even one-or no-handed, he suspected Arianna would have enough rage to still be a force to be reckoned with.
“Will you wait there all night?”
Cvareh’s eyes regained focus, peering through the dimly lit hall at the man who leaned against a far wall. Cain stared back at him, inquisitive. The question hadn’t been rhetorical.
“Perhaps.” Cvareh didn’t really know what he would do. Not when it came to Arianna. Just when he thought he’d figured it out, the woman elicited a different response from him.
“Why?”
Cain wouldn’t understand. All Cain saw was the Chimera from Loom, a wretched amalgamation of Dragon and Fenthri that was now stealing magic from one of their House. Cain had not been there on Loom for all the days spent journeying with the brash and beautiful woman.
“Because we need her.”
“More that you need her.” Cain crossed the hall with measured steps; his walk betrayed both his boldness and willingness to turn at dismissal. It was a delicate dance that only a Dragon could manage. But Cain had earned boldness around Cvareh. The two had grown up together nearly as brothers, and in the dark halls of the Xin Manor with no eyes upon them, Cvareh fashioned them closer to equals.
“Both are true,” he confessed.
“Why? What do we need with her?” Cain focused on the House first.
“She can make a Philosopher’s Box.” Confusion crossed his friend’s face, forcing Cvareh to elaborate. “A mechanism that will make perfect Chimera. It will give Loom the ability to stand against the Dono.”
“Do we want that?” Cain asked uncertainly.
“It will shift the tides for House Xin.”
“And then we will be faced with Fenthri who are emboldened against us.”
