Florence was silent. She was trying to see if she could reconcile herself to a system that would have her killed for not being a good enough Raven—despite being a damn good Revolver. But under the same logic, the Revolvers had their own quota. She didn’t have a place there either.
It made her want to scream.
She settled on a scowl instead.
“I understand, I believe, your turmoil on the matter.” Powell motioned to the windows and room. “But I want you to comprehend the logic woven behind the madness.”
“People should still be able to choose their guild. A finite pool, perhaps, but… The Ter.0 system of learning was better. Divide the finite pools from there. Let all test for all and then separate. It should—”
He rested his palm on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “I don’t disagree with you.” The words were a balm to the fervor that had been brewing in her gut. “There are better ways to execute this system. There are alternatives that would have been more in line with our culture, our way of life. Something the Dragons have yet to fully understand.”
At least he admitted that much.
“But we were a runaway train, headed for a half-finished bridge. In such a situation, you do not worry foremost about what wrong turn you took to get there. You reach for the brake and pull with all your might.Thenyou find the right way. But if we didn’t reach for that brake, Florence, and make the sacrifices we made, we would have run ourselves off that proverbial ledge and into extinction.”
She wanted to point out that she didn’t appreciate a very Raven analogy, because he was no doubt assuming it would resonate with her for the mark on her cheek. But Florence held her tongue. She felt bitter and suddenly very, deeply tired.
“This is a lot,” she confessed with a mumble.
“We may talk on it more, if you’re interested in learning.”
Florence considered it for a long moment. She’d learned from the Ravens, the Revolvers, and a Rivet. She’d always been so focused on completely transforming herself from one thing into another, it wasn’t until the endwig attack and the weeks that followed on the train that she’d discovered the true strength of combining all parts. Why not see what a Harvester could teach her? Who knew when it would come in handy?
“I am.”
“Very well.” Powell motioned for the stairs where they’d entered. “Let me show you to a guest room, for now. I am tired from the train and ready to wash and rest.”
“Thank you.” She hoped he interpreted her gratitude on the multiple levels it was intended.
“You are quite welcome.” He seemed to. “Rest up. Tomorrow, I will take you to the organ harvesting rooms.”
30.Arianna
The smell of woodsmoke was etched upon her skin with his tongue and teeth. He drew long, delightfully painful lines with his canines. He followed with his mouth, his tongue, his tender kisses and delicate ministrations upon them while they healed.
Again and again, he repeated. They were a room on fire, cedar on smoke. Pain and pleasure made comfortable bedmates, etching his caress upon the steel of her memory with an endless amount of determination.
She wanted him. They had crossed every line and traversed every seemingly impenetrable barrier to arrive with him between her legs. But she yearned for every moment. She yearned for his firm grip on her hipbone, his mouth on her shoulder, his attentions bordering on the meticulous.
There was a broken-ness to their passion, a ritual sacrifice of everything they were for something they could be. Let them dive into the acidic fatalism that would forever be splashed upon their memories. They were going to dissolve into each other until there was nothing left.
She arched off the bed, his hand smoothing across her ribs and onto her back, holding her in place, his mouth upon her breast. She had forgotten the feeling of being vulnerable. Control had fought against its tether, cutting into her palms, and now she let the beast go free.
Arianna’s claws trailed up his arms and shoulders, into his blood-orange hair. She watched how it splayed across her chest when she held him upon her.
“You have magic here,” he mumbled into her bare stomach. His breaths ran ragged laps around her navel.
“I do.” She was already stripped bare before him. There was little else to hide now.
“Where else?” He propped himself over her.
Arianna had seen his bare chest dozens of times; the Dragons weren’t exactly fond of clothing. But it looked different now. Hovering just far enough for her nipples to brush his skin, it seemed to take on a different shade, a more appealing curve.
“You know the other places.” Arianna slid her palms to the chest she had just been admiring. “Though, I wouldn’t mind lungs…”
“You wouldn’t.” He pressed his mouth upon her.
Arianna sucked his tongue between her teeth, biting hard. Blood poured into her throat and she sucked hungrily, magic exploding once more. She was well and truly drunk off the man—the taste, the feeling. It was better every time and worse each passing second after it faded. She wondered what it would be like to give into every desire and lie here with him until the end of days.
