28. Cvareh

If he never went underground again, it would be too soon. The journey underneath Ter.4 had been one harrowing moment after the next that he was sure did nothing for the luster of his skin or wrinkles around his brow. They surfaced from the quagmire bloody, beaten, thinning, and blinking against the faint twilight of sunset in Ter.4.3. But emerge they did, in one miraculous piece, and thanks in no small part to the dark-haired girl at his side.

Cvareh had a whole new appreciation for the girl—no, woman. She was sixteen, barely more than a toddler by the lifespans on Nova. But, for a Fenthri, it made her almost middle aged. This was a woman who was coming into her prime and knew what she wanted.

At least, that’s what he had to believe. Because he’d been feeding her his blood for five days now. The magic had a strange affect on the not-yet-Chimera Fenthri. Without a proper transfusion of blood she couldn’t be made into a full Chimera, so his magic didn’t take hold like a proper imbibing would. It also began to work away at her stomach and mouth, creating bloody sores that would be aggravated with every feeding, heal as a result of the magic, and then be made worse again as the magic faded.

Imbibing like this would eventually kill her. But she maintained both their spirits by reminding him that they were already headed to the home of the Chimera—the Alchemists’ Guild. Once she had been given the blood properly, gold mingled with red to make black, she would rebound stronger than before. Such was the way of Chimeras; Florence should need no more living proof than the woman she had made her teacher.

That particular woman was elusive for two days after they emerged from the Underground. They holed up in squalor, but it was far safer than the depths they had endured and even scraps were better sustenance than what they’d had available previously. Cvareh began to fear that perhaps Arianna had not escaped. That she had gone back and was met with an ill fate of pincers and the Wretches they had left behind.

If she died, would he know? Was there something about the magic of the boon contract that would alert him to its dissolution? He had no idea. She’d been an enigma from the start and the woman was content to remain such even when she wasn’t around to give him a hard time.

For two days, Florence went and sat at the port of Ter.4.3. She had an unending belief that Arianna would somehow know to find her there. Where it stemmed from, Cvareh wasn’t quite certain. But she was resolute enough to kill herself for it.

On the third day, he walked with her, bundled and hidden. It was taking longer and longer for her to traverse the area from their hideout to her waiting spot and, after fearing she wouldn’t return yesterday, Cvareh had made up his mind to go with her from then on. He could do little more than give her blood, but that he would do… even if the idea of piercing his flesh above ground settled restlessly across his consciousness. But if he didn’t, eventually, the girl would die. And he’d promised Arianna he would keep her safe. More than that, he wanted to see her safe for himself.

A pop sounded in his ear, echoing from a great distance away with the closeness of someone clicking their tongue by the side of his face. He looked out over the port, feeling the tether form between him and his sister, tugging at his ear. Cvareh rose slowly, giving Florence a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m going to take a short walk.”

“I’ll wait here.” The girl gripped the bench seat for support. He would have to let her imbibe tonight or else she would certainly be beyond help.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised.

Cvareh strolled away, at least until he was out of eyesight. His pace quickened and he ducked into a side alley, wedging himself between some shipping crates. With a quick glance, he rose his hand to his ear, magic crackling into his skin and across the void that separated him and Nova.

“Petra,” he whispered.

“I was beginning to wonder, little one.” Genuine relief flooded her voice and Cvareh felt instant guilt at the idea of making her worry.

“I haven’t been in a position to talk.”

“Yveun Dono sent Riders after you. But I heard no word of capture or kill and I know he would boast of it had his red bitch been successful.” She was utterly triumphant at the sound of Cvareh’s voice, knowing they had so far thwarted the best efforts of House Rok. “Still, with your silence—”

“I move slower than expected, but safer than we predicted.” It was irony to say given all he had faced, but with Arianna he had been far safer than he would’ve been venturing out on his own. Though his luck might be thinning on that front.

“You have made an ally?” Nothing escaped his sister.

“I have.”

“Who?”

“She is—”

“She?” Petra’s expression was readable through the word. She’d heard the shift in his tones, the note placed under the pronoun at the mere thought of Arianna.

“—the White Wraith,” he finished determined.

“My brother has befriended the infamous White Wraith?” The echo of Petra’s chuckle whispered back to him. “You’re certain she’s on our side?”

“I am,” he affirmed.

“She has quite the reputation. I don’t know if I would trust her.”

“Then trust me. There’s nothing she would do that would hurt me.” Why was he so confident? She’d spent days illustrating how little she thought of him. She’d spent hours annoying him for the sake of it.

“What have you done to tame this beast?”

“Just trust me that I have this under control.”

“Do you?” a voice spoke from above him.

Cvareh’s head snapped up to the top of the pile of crates he’d been hiding between. There, perched at their top as though she had materialized out of thin air itself—like a wraith—was the woman in question. The connection with his sister fizzled from lack of focus and his hand fell from his ear.

“Tell me what control you’re exercising.” With the grace and nimbleness of a cat, she dropped before him, rising slowly. “You know what hangs on your response.”

“Florence is safe.” It was mostly true, at least.

Arianna visibly relaxed, leaning against the crates with her arms lazily folded over her chest.

“How did you find me?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to mess up and use enough magic to leave a trace in the air.” She reached forward and he expected her to grab him, to smack him, to grab her dagger and hold it to his face in an instant. But her hand wrapped around his shoulder in an almost reassuring manner. “I’m glad you’re all right as well.”

“You just want your boon.” He laughed nervously, not even knowing why he was nervous, not knowing why he was so eager to write her off.

“Oh I do.” She didn’t waste breath on denying it. “But I’m still glad to see you in one piece.” Arianna stepped away and, for the very first time, he wished she hadn’t. “Now, take me to her.”

Cvareh led the way, though his relief at seeing the white-clad woman faded quickly. Florence’s shoulders sagged as she continued to clutch at the bench, waiting diligently for her master’s return. Waiting even if it meant her death. It was a loyalty that could not be bought and in that brief moment, he wondered if it was a loyalty Arianna had actually earned.

Arianna stopped in her tracks a few steps away from the young woman. She spun on Cvareh and he was surprised she didn’t burn her cheeks for all the fire that sparked from her eyes underneath her goggles. She knew. He could sense it with every move she made.

“What did you do to her?”