“My lungs?” he repeated.
If he were to give them to her, perhaps she could make time stop. In those frozen moments, she could let go of her own harsh judgment for loving such a man. She could savor him, as though he wasn’t about to step into a role that prohibited her from standing by his side.
It would be the only part of him she could keep forever.
“Give them to me. Make me Perfect.”
He paused and pulled away. His brow furrowed as he inspected her thoughtfully. His long, blue fingers ran through her snow-colored hair and swept it from her brow in thought.
“Arianna, you were perfect long before the Philosopher’s Box.”
If only it were true.
“Give them to me. Please.”
“If that is what you want of me, then it is yours.” He kissed her again. “I am yours.”
Cvareh crushed her lips with his and encircled her waist with his arms, and Arianna forgot about all reservations as he pushed her against the wall.
Florence
“With this, we will be able to fight Dragons head-on,” Vicar Gregory addressed the Revolvers’ Guild. In his hand was a weapon he hoisted up to his shoulder with ease. It had the look of a rifle, only shorter and fatter through the barrel. Wires connected disk-like multipliers, covered in the scratches of Alchemical runes, along its length. “With this, we will no longer be forced to rely on imperfect alchemy or failed negotiations.”
“Will there be a Philosopher’s Box?” an initiate asked from Florence’s left.
It was disturbingly easy to take stock of the guild. All of them now fit into a single cavern in the Underground. There were about twenty-five journeymen, thirty initiates, three masters, and the vicar. Florence would guess the Revolvers were at one-fifth of their previous size, maybe even less.
“The Rivets are still working on the Philosopher’s Box. But in the meantime, this will give us a real chance to escape the Underground and fight against the Dragons out in the open.” Gregory was back to showing off the weapon. “In fact, the preliminary work on the gun was done by the Master Rivet who designed the Philosopher’s Box herself.”
As murmurs flew between people assembled in the room, Shannra caught Florence’s eyes. There was no mention of Florence, which she could stomach since she hadn’t done much other than receive the letter; but there was no mention of Master Oliver—which Florence knew would not sit well with Arianna—or the last Vicar Revolver either.
She wanted to ask herself how such a selfish man could have landed as the head of the Revolvers. But then she remembered they hadn’t had many options to choose from. Knowing Gregory, he’d likely strong-armed his way into the position when the rest of the guild was still reeling from grief and terror.
“ . . . so I will be taking a select few with me topside this very day. We will go, and we shall use this to cut a Rider from the pack and take them down, so the Dragons know we are working on a weapon that their gliders and coronas won’t protect them from.”
“I volunteer.” An eager journeyman jumped to his feet.
“Take me with you!” A woman joined him, standing tall and resolved.
“I want to see the gun fire!” An initiate was not going to be left out. The Revolvers were nothing if not recklessly curious.
“The masters and I have already decided on the team.” Gregory motioned for them to sit down. “It shall be composed of Master Joseph, journeymen Thomas, Willie, Shannra . . .” There was a long pause, audibly separating the last name from the others of journeyman status. “ . . . and Florence.”
Florence’s ears perked up at her name. She rose to her feet, seeing that everyone else who had been called had done so. Shannra’s eyes squinted slightly at her. She knew they were both wondering the same thing: What was Gregory up to?
That question was the first thing out of Shannra’s mouth as they prepared to go topside in the hour that followed.
“Why would he invite you?” she mumbled, checking her guns for the second time.
“Perhaps he’s using me to help navigate the guild hall?” Florence was already on her third check.
“Did he even ask if you could?” Shannra asked. Florence shook her head. Truth was, she wasn’t even confident that she could, beyond broad strokes. It’d been so long since she was last there.
“I don’t like this, Flor.”
“Maybe it’s his way of thanking me for giving him the schematics?” Florence’s mind immediately jumped back to the vicar’s hasty calculations. “Share the glory of its first use?”
Shannra hummed, unconvinced. “Sharing isn’t something our vicar is known for.” The woman glanced around, but she had maintained her corner away from all the other journeymen. “What Arianna said about Gregory on Ter.0 is true. He’s a good Vicar Revolver, but not because he’s a renowned teacher.”
“It’s because he’s cutthroat.” Florence had figured out that much on her own. It was a strong front for the guild to have right now, especially when the world had gone to pieces and they needed the Vicar Revolver to be a beacon of strength. What was good for the guild, however, was not necessarily the best for Florence.
“He was only ever tolerated because he was effective.” Shannra harnessed her weapon.
The word effective stuck. Florence grabbed the other woman’s wrist, arresting her complete attention. Florence dropped her voice as low as possible.
“When I gave the schematics to him . . . he did some quick calculations, called the problem solved.”
“I hear a ‘but,’” Shannra whispered, evoking a solemn nod from Florence.
“I noticed the error. He ignored me when I tried to point it out.” Shannra’s scowl deepened. “He may have since fixed it.”
“I doubt it. Gregory was never much known for theory.”
“We’ll just have to be extra careful.”
They each packed an additional box of canisters before setting off to the arranged meeting point. It was a narrow room that had a ladder leading into the Ravens’ Guild hall. Vicar Dove had spared one Raven to guide them, inadvertently proving that Florence was not along to navigate. It was a young man who was looking very uncomfortable with the whole idea of what they were about to do.
“Our objective is simple,” Gregory instructed the small group. “We will head into the hall and up to a waiting point and wait for a whisper from a lookout. When Thomas gets the signal that a Dragon has landed, we will run to intercept, dispose of the Dragon, and return.” He said it as though doing so would be the simplest thing in the world. If Florence had learned one thing, it was that nothing was ever easy when it came to Dragons. “This is nothing more than a test run for the weapon.”
“Do you have any reason to believe the weapon may not work?” Florence just couldn’t keep her mouth shut.
“Are you questioning my work?”
“Is it not the nature of a journeyman to question?”