“Don’t talk about her!” Arianna slammed her fist on the table, suddenly on her feet. She never wanted anyone to make assumptions about the woman she had loved. Least of all Sophie.
“Let her go.” Sophie covered Arianna’s hand gently with hers. “It’s what she would’ve wanted.”
Arianna pulled her hand away.
“I don’t even want you to finish the Philosopher’s Box. I just want you to help because I thought it could offer you closure.”
When did everyone become so obsessed with my “closure”? Arianna thought bitterly. Then the whole statement seeped into her mind.
“You don’t want me to finish the box?” The words were hard to say, they made so little sense.
“No, we already had a Rivet do it,” Sophie announced triumphantly.
This was the competitive, self-centered Sophie that Arianna knew. “Lovely. It won’t work.”
“As arrogant as ever, I see.” Sophie picked up one of the assorted lockboxes, inspecting it more closely. “You do good work—excellent even. But it’s wasted if you don’t use it for anything.”
No one understood. By not using her talents in certain ways, Arianna was trying to protect them all. If the Philosopher’s Box went into mass production it was likely to create an endless roulette of power struggles as one army fought against the next, and the next. She’d seen the destruction it reaped first-hand when men tried to get their hands on it.
“I use it for my own purposes.” Arianna pulled the lockbox from Sophie’s hand.
The Vicar shrugged and started for the door. “We’re going to make a perfect Chimera now, if you want to see the fruit of your labor in action.”
Arianna stood in limbo as the other woman left. She really didn’t want to be involved. She knew there was no way another Rivet had finished her work, not based on the limited notes that had been stolen from her workshop.
But she found herself hastily following Sophie in two more breaths anyway. If nothing else, she wanted to know if the tensions between Nova and Loom were about to get even worse. Because if they were, she’d take Florence by force if she had to in order to keep the girl safe.
The Vicar and Arianna were escorted into a viewing room that overlooked a surgical lab. Within, a Chimera lay unconscious on a table. Alchemists surrounded him, preparing instruments and measuring chemicals. The Chimera had Dragon hands and ears, and that was only what was visible. It was a miracle he hadn’t become forsaken yet.
On one table were the new reagents they were going to stitch in: a tongue and stomach were suspended in stasis liquid, condensing in the air and steaming from the temperature difference. Arianna’s eyes fell on a new machine. It wasn’t much different from the one that had transitioned Florence days earlier. That was what they thought the Philosopher’s Box looked like.
“Call off the operation, Sophie,” Arianna said softly. She wasn’t going to openly embarrass the Rivet standing next to her, the man who was likely responsible for the monstrosity that would take another’s life.
“You think I’ll let you stand in the way of this?” Sophie smiled.
“It’s not going to work.”
“Oh, Arianna, you can’t stand it when someone else does the work you think only you are fit to do.”
“This is not personal.” Arianna’s voice slowly rose. “You are going to kill this man.”
She’d gained the attention of those around her.
“Vicar Alchemist?” one of the surgeons called up, uncertain at Arianna’s declaration.
“Continue.”
“That isn’t going to work. He’s going to go forsaken the second you disconnect.” Arianna spoke over the Vicar.
“I don’t know who you think you are, but I built that from sketches drawn by a Master Rivet.” The Rivet at her side took offense.
Well, the line’s been crossed. Might as well throw etiquette out the window. “And I can tell why you don’t have your circle yet, boy. Because that Master Rivet who drew them was me.”
The Rivet looked between her and Sophie for confirmation. When Sophie didn’t object, he suddenly considered his work a second time. “Maybe we should—”
“Start the operation!” Sophie demanded.
“You are condemning him to death.”
“Silence, Arianna. You may be a dear friend of mine but this is my Guild, and I will not tolerate such rudeness.”
Arianna held her tongue. They were a lot of things, but they weren’t dear friends. Time and age couldn’t change that fact, it seemed.
The operation commenced, and the Rivet at her side paled as they began removing the tongue and stomach of the man on the operating table. Another Alchemist manned the fake Philosopher’s Box. Blood spiraled in tubes, filtering out the Fenthri blood, turning it gold. The fact that the machine had that much working terrified her. The boy at her side was smart to have deciphered the filtration system. It wouldn’t be a stretch to think he could achieve real success through enough trial and error.