“No.”Mrs.Grant’s voice peeled like a bell through the fog, and Madeline froze, a scant inch away from the ring.“No.”Mrs.Grant sounded softer this time.“Only those bound together may touch them.”
Yes, that felt right.Temple should have told her last night.Diana slipped her glove back on as Madeline yanked her hand away.
“Apologies,” she mumbled.“Didn’t know.”
Sybil offered a smile.“It’s quite all right.No harm done.I’m Sybil Grant.”
“Madeline Maple.”Madeline bobbed a curtsy.
Diana gestured to her employer.“And this is?—”
“A friend.”Lady Guinevere curtsied.
Diana looked to Madeline for an explanation, but the other woman merely shrugged, and what did Diana care, after all?She, too, hid who she was.
“Everyone inside,” Mrs.Grant boomed.“No use torturing poor Temple any longer.”
Everyone filed in except for Diana, who suddenly worried lightning might strike her down if she stepped foot over the threshold.She’d always believed, been taught, that transcendents had a divine right to their powers, but she’d not been selected by any divinity.She was a thief.
“Is something amiss?”Mrs.Grant asked softly from the doorway.
“No.Yes.I… Is this moving too quickly?”
“Oh, yes, probably so.”
Diana clutched her flowers to her chest.Tiny pink petals and flat yellow ones.The ribbon binding them a deep blue.The pink meant to give her hope.The yellow meant to tell her something of love.
What were the flowers for secrets and lies?
Beneath her glove, her ring heated, a soothing warmth that gave her strength.
Mrs.Grant took Diana’s hand, tugged her inside.“We alchemists are a practical sort.There are metals and elements that go together and those that don’t.We know the fire cools quickly, so we must complete our work with speed.We also know that a fire can be kept low and hungry for quite some time, and we can use that heat with patience to make something, too.We know when to strike fast and when to wait.”
“You’re saying this marriage is a strike-fast situation.”
“Do transcendents move slow or fast?Or somewhere in between?”
“I’m not sure they move at all.They spend much of their time keeping things exactly as they’ve always been.Old bodies glamoured into youth.Dilapidated houses glamoured into former glory.They are not fond of change.”
“They?You don’t consider yourself one?”
Mrs.Grant had usedwe, even though women didn’t build.“I… I don’t know.”But unlike those she came from, she did want change.She craved it, and stepping down that aisle, meeting the man at the end of it—what greater change than that?
“Thank you,” Diana said.“I’m ready now.”
Mrs.Grant patted her cheek.“When in doubt, think of your ring.It will give you Temple’s certainty, and his strength.And it will give him your strengths as well.And… for the right two people, it will reveal so much more.”
Did Diana have strengths?If she did, they were well hidden from her.She was unlikely to be the right person, so that “so much more” Mrs.Grant spoke of… it was not for her.
But she pressed the pad of her thumb against the hidden side of the iron and opal band.Warm, confident, excited, reassuring.Did those emotions come from Temple?Or did thinking of Temple as she rubbed the ring help her imagine what he might be feeling?No matter.She clung to that reassurance, that confidence, and she opened the door.
As she stepped into the back of the nave, Temple was storming down the aisle, dark brows drawn together.He must have worked the iron out of his body because his body was not as big as it had been the night before.But that scowl, the purpose driving his limbs—he was more beautiful than ever.More intimidating.A dark storm promising to consume her.
He stopped before her, blinked, the scowl melting away.“You’ve not run away?”He made a fist of the hand decorated by his alchemist’s ring.Had he felt her doubt, her fear?Shemust reassurehim.
She held out her hand.“I’ve not run away.”
He grasped it and pulled her down the aisle.She had to lift her skirts to keep up.
