Apollo stoppered the bottle and stepped back.Even if he hadn’t begun to suspect what Apollo did, Stone knew he needed Sybil.
She was in danger.
“Hold down the forge,” Apollo called out, making for the floating chamber.
He barely heard Michael’s “Yes, sir” as he ascended into the stone.What he needed was dynamite.Several kegs of gunpowder to raze the damn building, to bury the dungeons and forge beneath layers and layers of rubble—preferably with Stone crushed under it all.Sybil couldn’t be thrown into the dungeons if there were no dungeons to begin with.
And that’s what would happen.
Without greatcoat, without anything other than the purpose setting the pace of each stride, he made for Finsbury Square.It hadn’t been difficult to find out that’s where she’d been staying since returning to London.He’d visited Diana as soon as he’d arrived in the capital, and she’d told him everything.Temple would return soon.With Sybil.And not because it was safe—it wasn’t—but because the queen had demanded to meet her.
A half hour or so later, the potion shop rose before him—clean glass windows shrouded in vines that seemed to crawl of their own accord, the yellow door, the swinging sign above it.Sybil was in there.
His steps faltered.It seemed a lifetime since he’d seen her, touched her, kissed her.
He rocked back several steps, the need to do everything he’d not done for over a week too powerful.He seemed to be able to feel her heart pounding along his own pulse.
It seemed to skip and leap, like it was… happy?No.Bloody elated.
He slipped inside with a group of women.Sybil was not on the first floor, so he made for the stairs.
“Mr.Chester?”Lady Guinevere stood in her office doorway, the dark silhouette of her guard behind her.“Returned to burn the place down?”
“Apologies, my lady.I’m looking for Sy—for Miss Grant.”
“And why is that?The two of you together are rather… explosive.”
The guard chuckled.
“She’s in danger.”No reason to be coy, to play games.Not now.Not ever with Sybil’s life.“Stone has gone mad, and he’s coming after her again.”
“Hmm.”The potion mistress’s brows drew together, and the guard leaned down, whispered something in her ear.She nodded as he straightened, and she pointed toward the stairs.“She’s upstairs, in the roof garden.”
“Thank you.”Apollo didn’t bother bowing, just sprinted all the way up every flight.There the top landing, there a door, the yellow paint faded near the handle and scuffed near the floor.He slowed, his feet suddenly reluctant.She wouldn’t want to see him, no matter his reasons for showing his face.
She was going to be enraged.Worse, cold.
Close enough to reach the handle, he stretched out his hand, yanked it back, smoothing his hair back, squeezing his neck.He couldn’t do this.
He had to do it.
He shot his hand out before he could rethink and turned the handle, pushed.Slowly.No use rushing things.Needed time to get his heart under control.A wind blew leaves toward him through the crack, and the vines and branches seemed to beckon, calming, so he opened the door farther, feeling steadier.A narrow walkway lined with plants wound beneath a wooden frame around which curled a riot of vines and blooms.They shivered in the wind, petals dancing.
At the end of the path, he saw her.She stood near the edge of the roof, and Apollo swallowed down the sudden urge to yank her backward.Sunlight pooled around her as it had in Yorkshire in the glass chamber.All manner of light loved her—the flicker of flames, the jumping candlelight, the sun’s rays.And Apollo… Apollo… he too…
Realization felt like falling, as if he’d taken a running leap and flung himself into the thin air Sybil stared into.It didn’t buoy him, though.He plummeted, through light and darkness, through sun and rain, through the very earth.And there in the airless quiet, he saw the source of his fucking heart.Knew the truth of that second heart that seemed to beat inside his own pulse.
Noseems.
Did.
Sybil.
Each beat pumping blood, keeping him alive.
Sybil.
When Temple stepped into view, Apollo almost muttered the curse out loud as he pulled the door closed.Mostly.He left enough open to see brother and sister through the crack.Oh, and the brother’s wife.Diana there, too.He should leave.
