He fell hard. Arianna went down with him. She panted, her knife rearing back like an adder. She had him right where she wanted him and the idiot was too stunned to do anything. She could do anything she wanted, kill him however delighted her, though nothing would satisfy her hunger for his suffering.
Did she want to scoop out his eyeballs with the point of her blade? Did she want to carve out every organ he ever gave her? Did she want to take his heart and be done with it?
Arianna wanted to scream.
None of it was enough. None of it would be enough to quench her thirst for revenge. None of it would bring back the woman she’d loved, the teacher she’d revered, the friends she’d made in the only true home she’d ever had. She could kill him a thousand times over, and it wouldn’t be satisfying to her. Because what she truly wanted, no boon, no vengeance, no vision, could give her. She brought down her dagger.
His hand shot up, catching her wrist. The other swiped for her throat. Arianna caught it. They were in deadlock. Eyes on eyes, blade point and claw point at throats. She shifted her feet, ready to overpower him. She could feel it in his trembling grip—he wasn’t nearly strong enough to hold her.
“Wait, don’t kill me,” he spoke quickly, before she could laugh or scream or even give a growl at the coward’s attempt to barter for his life. “Don’t kill me, Arianna. I can give you something better.”
“Once a traitor, always a traitor,” she snarled. Arianna swung backward, pulling on his wrist, feeling the bones pop. She curled herself and brought her feet forward, kicking out his other wrist.
“Yes!”
Her blade stopped a second time, now of her own accord.
The man’s face moved oddly as he spoke. His visage was horribly scarred with markings that hadn’t been there the last time she’d seen him. Arianna watched his bones knitting before her eyes. Envy bubbled up at whoever had maimed him so effectively; jealousy was quick to follow that somehow she found herself lacking in doing the same.
“Yes, I am a traitor. But it is not you I am betraying now. I can give you something better, more satisfying than my death.”
“You have no idea how badly I want this.” Her hand had finally given to shaking.
“I betrayed you, Arianna, but I was nothing more than a puppet. If not me, it would’ve been someone else. What do you get from my death? Nothing. There will be more like me who creep up from the shadows. Kill the man who pulls the strings.”
“You’d betray your own King?”
“Once a traitor, always a traitor.” He grinned darkly.
A shiver of malice raced down her spine. She wanted to kill him. She had wanted to kill him for years. But he was now a low-hanging fruit. She had him and she could slay him any time. She knew she could overpower him and best him in any fight—that much had already been proven in their short encounter thus far.
Yes, killing him would serve her personal vendetta. But it would mean little for any beyond her. If she killed Yveun… She would cut off the head of the snake.
“I can take you to him, right to him. I can get you in his room before the sun even wakes. No one else can give that to you, no other Dragon will.” Rafansi panted softly, continuing to eye her dagger. “It’s a fair exchange, my life for the life of the Dragon King. Don’t you think?”
Arianna stood, glancing to the window. If she killed him in the manor, she’d have to contend with the other Xin. She could let him take her to the King, kill Yveun, then take Rafansi’s life in turn. Arianna flipped her dagger in her palm, once, twice, before sheathing it.
The mere idea, even if it was a farce, of working with him again made her feel soiled.Eva, forgive me. But she was going to cast the die and gamble for it all, or nothing.
“Take me to the Dragon King.”
40.Florence
Why?
The word seemed to linger on the tongue of every survivor.Why?
They were adrift in the world, separated by the distance of train lines and the bleeding wounds that had been carved deep into their hearts. So the train continued in the only direction it could, on to Ter 1.2. No one objected. No one suggested otherwise. There was nowhere else to go.
An entire guild, an entire people, homeless and adrift.
Florence had wanted to live to see a world where people weren’t tethered to their guilds, but she hadn’t wanted it like this. She’d never wanted this. She would sit and listen to the wailing tears that were only smothered, not soothed, by time. She rocked silently with the train.
Powell looked equally shell-shocked, numb. The truth of what he had been saying since he had woken her two days ago echoed in her mind, underscoring the parted lips and drifting eyes that now made up his face. She waited for it to wear off, but she could only wait so long before her burning questions threatened to immolate her fragile sanity.
“Powell,” she whispered, hoping to get his attention without disturbing any who dozed around them.
“Florence?”
