I am a temple to Diana.
But the foundations were cracking.The columns falling down.
When his throat ached and his eyes burned, and the fire of his grief had dried up all his tears, he lay on the floor of his forge, looking out the window to the smallest sliver of sky visible between two buildings.
Stars winked there in that inky dark.Was Diana looking on them, too?It was possible.What else would she have to do in a musty, old room, in a dank old tower that had imprisoned man and beast alike, received traitors and witnessed the beheadings of women.
Diana wasn’t a traitor.She was a little queen with dust on her nose and moons in her eyes, and she’d trusted him.
She’d trusted him, and he’d failed her.
He lifted his hand to look at the alchemist ring on his finger.It glowed a soft yellow in the gathering moonlight that only slightly spilled in through the window.A warm glow, like the softness of her hand in his.He kissed it and made a promise.
He’d do whatever it took to free her.Whatever it took to keep her safe.
Through the iron came a feeling not his own—trust.And hope.
