“Isn’t it obvious?”He wiggled the iron needle about in the lock, looking upward with squinted eyes, the tip of his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth.
“Is lock picking a common part of the curriculum for heirs to marquisates?”
“Of course not.My formal education was all Latin, as is gentlemanly.Only I went through a period of degeneracy and learned a few actually useful skills.”
“Was that when you tried to slit my throat?”
“I see forgiveness is not part of the alchemist child’s education.”He grunted, wiggled the needle some more.
Then there was a click.It sounded like a gunshot, echoing off the walls.The door creaked open.
Sybil darted out, ignoring her screaming ankle and grabbing his hand.They ran for the floating chamber.
“Damn me, you’re quick!”
“And you’re drained.If I don’t pull you, you won’t be able to keep up.”
“Rude.”But he quickened his pace, and they jumped onto the floating chamber together.
He collapsed against the brass frame as it clicked them higher.
“Are you going to be ill?”
“How can you tell?”He was quickly melting toward the floor.He heaved and held a hand over his mouth.
“Wait until we get outside.”
When the chamber stopped in a lightless, large, open room, she anchored an arm around his waist.He managed to hold his orb high as they moved through the room.
“Do you know where we are?”she whispered.
“British Museum.”
“The Guild?They have dungeons?”
“Apparently.”He shrugged her away to stand on his own feet, then moved silently ahead of her.She limped toward his bobbing light, the dark outline of his form.
Then a door appeared in that dim halo, and then they were outside in a narrow alley.She inhaled deeply, exhaled every single bit of air in her lungs, desperate to have the musty scent of the dungeon out of her as quickly as possible.
“Thank you,” she said.“I know heroism does not come naturally to you, but… I owe my freedom to you.”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he grumbled, staggering toward the end of the alley where it opened up onto a wider street.Out there, gas lamps glowed bright.“Let’s find a hack and get you to your brother.”
Temple.The name meant safety.It also meant another sort of captivity.
The rod she’d stuck into her stays was digging into her, so she pulled it out as she joined him on the street.
“Where the hell did that come from?”He eyed the weapon.
“The cell.The bed.”
“You’re dangerous, I think.”
She grinned.“I’m not going to my brother.”
“I’m not taking you to— What is it?Hampstead Heath?Too far.”He grabbed her arm and tugged her down the street.“Your brother is just around the corner.”
She yanked out of his hold and headed in the opposite direction.“Temple will lock me up, and it will be like I never escaped.”
