He was right.She called her heat and reshaped it, focusing on its purpose.It would fit to a carriage wheel and repel any rocks or debris, making for a smoother ride.She’d known these wheel plates existed.She’d never thought to make them.
“Better,” Temple said, clapping her on the shoulder.
She beamed.“Thank you.”
He rested a hip on the table.“You’ve a visitor.”
“Apollo!”
He winced.“No, I’m sorry.But clean up and go see.I think you’re done for the day.”He patted her hand.“He may not… I mean… Apollo Chester is not known for his loyalty.I don’t want you hurt.”
“He’ll come round.All those damn flowers he’s sending.”She pulled her hand out from under his and left.
“Sybil,” her brother called out.
She wavered in the doorway.“Yes?”
“I hope he is loyal to you.And I… I’m proud of you.”
She turned around, found her brother bashful.
“Thank you,” she said.“I’m proud of me, too.”
It didn’t take her long to change out of her forge clothes and into a green-and-white striped silk gown.When she entered the sitting room, she had to bat the branch of a miniature orange tree out of the way to see more of her waiting guest than the skirts sweeping the floor.
“Lady Guinevere!”Sybil hugged her.“How are you?How is the shop?I’ve heard nothing about any of it, but for the article about the fire in the paper.”
“Well…” Lady Guinevere pulled out of Sybil’s embrace.“You’ve been rather busy yourself.”Looking around with wide eyes, she settled into one of a pair of elegant chairs at the center of the room, after batting away several large palm fronds.“Has a new master alchemist been chosen yet?”
“Here for gossip, then?”Sybil sat in the other chair.
“Perhaps a little.”Lady Guinevere looked across the foliage-packed room.“I admit to having a multitude of questions.But I will sate your curiosity first.The shop is not salvageable.Or rather, it is, at a large cost.I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet.”Her face was thinner than usual, paler, too, and the shadows beneath her eyes were dark and deep.
“And… Mr.Bran?Have you found him?”
“No.”Lady Guinevere’s eyes were dark and hollowed.
Sybil settled a hand over the other woman’s wrist.“I’m so sorry.”
“He was a friend.”She managed a smile.“I’m in the market for a new guard.I’m considering an alchemist fellow.Powers of metal could be terribly useful in certain instances.Now, you must answer my questions.”
“You’ve only asked one, and it’s easy enough to answer.A master has not been chosen.You’ll never believe it, but they asked Temple.”
“I thought he was reviled.”
“Yes, but he’s also the most accomplished, and they’re rather scared of choosing another madman.There were two in a row before Father.And Stone was right after Father, and I think they’ve decided the Grants are the only sane alchemists alive currently.I also gather the apprentices at the master’s forge requested Temple by name.”
“Your brother has accepted?”
“No.He’s rather pleased with his current position.My father is stepping back into the role temporarily, only until another man is chosen.”
Lady Guinevere snorted.“Of course it must be a man.Hm.And how is Stone’s successor chosen?A sanity test?”
Sybil laughed.
So did Lady Guinevere, but it sounded rusty, and it possessed shadowed edges.“You won’t tell me more, will you?Alchemist secrecy and all that.”
Sybil shrugged, running her finger down the leaf of a nearby peony.
