“You know perfectly well it cannot be done.”Temple tore into his asparagus with more power than the poor vegetable could handle.It ripped quickly in two, both ends flying off the plate.“Damn.”
“Temple.”Another maternal warning.
“Introduce him to a medium,” Mr.Grant suggested.“They’re thick on the ground these days.”
“I do not think it matters,” Mrs.Grant said.“It’s a Sisyphean task.You could be working on refining the summoning stone, but instead you’re stuck attempting to communicate with the dead.”She snorted.“Just look at you.You’re skin and bones.It’s too much.You should not have accepted the title.”
Skin and bones?He seemed quite solid to Diana.But… now that she looked closer… His face was rather pale, his cheekbones sharp, his eyes tired.
He leaned back in his seat, rubbing his forehead.“Do not worry, Mother.I’m still working on the stones.”And working on the king’s request and visiting Diana almost every evening and hiring a runner to track Apollo.
With the tines of her fork, she speared the rogue asparagus ends and put them back on his plate.“Eat, Temple,” she whispered.
He bloomed.Right in front of her, the quickest flowering she’d ever seen, his entire body as bright as the orbs dancing on the lawn as he stuffed the rest of the asparagus into his mouth.He held her gaze as he did it.She wanted to laugh at his puffy cheeks, his sudden exuberance.He’d ignited a brightness in her, too.It felt lovely to care for someone’s well-being as they cared for yours.An exchange of concern, a partnership.
It felt rather powerful.More so than that power she could summon now if she wished, wiping out this room to replace it with the grand dining hall she was used to at her grandfather’s house, her cousin’s house now.That seemed a sin, though, to cover up a room such as this.These walls were not grand, but they were hand-painted with a lovely summer landscape.And the furniture was not expensive, but it was well used and well cared for.The chairs were mismatched, but that created a kind of charm because each chair seemed an extension of its occupant.The twins’ chairs were matching.Sybil’s chair was delicate and painted white and gold.Mr.Grant’s was solid, big.And Ajax’s chair was his mother’s lap, his very own throne.
Diana ate while the others bounced conversation around the table.So unused to boisterous meals.Her own had always been silent, broken only by her aunt’s censures and the sound of a spoon spinning in a teacup.
Temple stretched his arm behind her, resting it along the back of her chair.He did not touch her, but she could feel the steadfastness of that thick corded muscle.She did not look at him, but she could feel Temple’s gaze on her.
He jumped a little, and his arm fell away from her chair, seeking the inside of his pocket.He pulled out a glowing stone like the one he’d give her.“Damn.I’m being summoned.I’m afraid we’ll have to leave.”
Cries of displeasure.Grumbles of disdain.The dishes nearly shook with the force of the family’s disparate feelings, but none of them stayed Temple.He stood and held out a hand to Diana.
She took it and stood.“Thank you, everyone.It has been a lovely evening.”That the absolute truth.
Temple bundled her toward the door, but before he could open it, Ajax appeared, the left side of his golden hair sticking straight up with… something, and his cheeks bulging.
“We’re off now, Jax,” Temple said, reaching out to ruffle the boy’s hair, then thinking better of it and sticking his hand in his pocket.
Ajax barely glanced at his brother, though.He eyed Diana.Then, slowly, he opened his mouth and deposited a soggy… something… into his palm.He held it out to her.
She leaned sideways toward Temple and mumbled from the side of her mouth, “What am I to do?”
“Take it.It’s a gift.He likes you.Don’t want to anger the gods.”
“Right, erm… With what?”Her bare hand?She shivered.
Temple produced a handkerchief from his jacket pocket.“Here.”
She accepted the handkerchief, then she accepted the… was it a biscuit?She wrapped it up tight and put it in her pocket without wincing.A minor miracle, that.“Thank you, Mr.Ajax.”
“Welcome.”The boy grinned and bolted, calling out, “Bye, Tempy!”
“Quick,” Temple said, shoving her out the door, “before anyone else catches us.”They darted into the night, and he helped her into the waiting carriage as the driver extinguished his cigar and lumbered up into the seat.
This time, he sat next to her on the forward-facing bench, his shoulder nestled snuggly alongside her own.“I am sorry we have to leave early.But…” He opened his fist, revealed the glowing summoning stone.“The king waits for no man.”
He looked tired suddenly, eyes dark and heavy, cheeks sunken.
“It’s quite all right.Tempy.”She grinned.
“Absolutely not.”He hid a yawn behind his hand, then it fell heavy to his thigh as his eyes fluttered closed.And before Diana could figure out how she felt looking at him like this—exhausted but oddly at ease—his breath deepened, slowed, and he fell asleep.
She watched him sleep all the way back to Finsbury Square, and when the carriage rolled to a stop outside the potions shop, she laid a hand on his shoulder, waking him with a gentle shake.But he did not wake.His head rolled toward her arm on a deep inhale.When he exhaled, her name was carried in the hush of his breath.And somehow that drifted her hand upward.
She cupped his cheek.His skin was warm and rough.His eyelashes thick and dark.“Temple,” she whispered.“Temple, wake up.We’re he?—”
