He would certainly bring opportunity.
She already had the notebook wedged between her shift and her stays.She had a bit of her shift wrapped tightly around her injured ankle.She had, too, a rusted bar from the bed she’d yanked free.It would work wonderfully well as a club to bludgeon Baxter with.If she could put enough force behind it.
The light wavered, dimmed.The world had been reduced to such a small circumference.
A clanking growl crept toward her through the black.She bolted upright.
The floating chamber was on the move.So must she be.She jumped from the bed, rusty bar clutched in one hand.She tried to maneuver by memory closer to the door of her cell.Not too close, but close enough to swipe at Baxter then dart for the opening.
A dim light appeared at the end of the corridor.Not much to see by, but it made her giddy, her stomach a riot.Metal screeched against stone.
Then footsteps brought the light closer.
Louder, brighter.She couldn’t quite see yet at the angle, but she dared not move closer to the bars of her cage.
The footsteps quickened.What would she do when the light hit her?She’d not considered that.He’d see her makeshift weapon.He wouldn’t open the door.She whipped the rod behind her back.No.Too suspicious.
She stuffed the bar into the snug space between her stays and body, shoved it down far enough she could still reach it, but the top end of it was hidden by her shoulder.She swallowed a grin as she saw his leg.She tried to pick her jaw up off the floor as she saw the rest of him.
Apollo Chester—the rat, the sneak, the bounder—held a fairy orb at head height.He stopped right before her cell, lips pinched.
“What are you doing here?”she demanded.
“If you don’t want to be saved, I’ll leave.”
“No!”She lunged for the bars, slipped her arms through them, reaching, clutching.“No, don’t go.I do wish to be saved.”
“Frankly, I’m surprised you haven’t yet saved yourself.”
“I was in the process of doing so.Now open this door.”
“Can’t.Don’t have a key.I can’tfindthe damn key.I was hoping you’d have some alchemist insight into where sneaky, secretive bastards stash them.”
“How am I supposed to know where Stone keeps the key to his dungeons?”
“Because you almost married him.”
“A grave mistake on my part.”She settled her hands on her hips.“It could take you all night to find it.What time is it?”
“Somewhere past one in the morning, I should think.I’ve been searching for hours.At great risk to my own health and precarious position in Stone’s forge, I might add.”
“I’ll repay you for your effort.”
He stepped closer and leaned a shoulder against one of the bars of her cell.He waggled his eyebrows.“I do take paymentotherthan gold.”
“Are you insinuating I use my body as payment?”
He shrugged, the lightest lift and drop of a lazy shoulder.“What can I say, grimy ladies in trousers simply…does somethingfor me.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose, but it did little to squeeze away her frustration.“Am I truly to be rescued by a moron?”
“Not with that attitude, you’re not.”
“Hestia, grant me patience.”She looked around the cell.She wasn’t alone now.She had an ally, even if that ally was a nodcock.“Don’t you go anywhere, Chester, my attitude will improve.I swear it.”
“My attitude won’t if you call meChester.I’ve never been called by my godawful surname.First it was Bainbridge, earl of, a courtesy title you know.Then Fordham when I became marquess.Alwaysmy lord, then, which you’re more than welcome to use, even though I’m not one anymore.And by my lovers, well, they always simply called me Apollo.”He flashed a whole mouthful of wide, white teeth.“He’s a god, you know.”
“God help me.I don’t need your onomatology.”
