The gold she slipped out of her pocket had been reshaped through constant, mindless rubbing throughout the day.No sheep now.A ring, smooth and small, and golden.It fit her perfectly.
She inhaled, intending to spend the breath on a good cry, but coughed instead.
In the hallway, Apollo coughed, too.
The air was thick, smoky.
She ran to the window and threw it open, but smoke fogged the air outside as well.
“Sybil!”Her door burst open, and Apollo rushed in.“There’s a fire.”
* * *
Smokeso thick not even a master alchemist could clear the air rolled into Sybil’s room from all directions.
“Apollo?”She hid her face in her arm, coughing.“What’s happening?”
“Out.”He had her in his arms, steering her toward the door.“Now.”
“My shoes!”She pulled against him.
“Now!”He swept her up and ran for the stairs, right into the smoke.But only a flight down, it was impossible to see.He had to slow down.
Sybil coughed.“We should go back.”
“And climb out the window?”Too far down, not a handhold in sight.He’d checked it out earlier in the day when Sybil had tried to lose him by going out the back door.At least the stairs were clear of fire, and Sybil clung tightly to his neck as they descended deeper into the smoke.
And right into a wall of flames.
The potion shop was a raging inferno.Across the room and near the front, the guards, half-dressed and glassy eyed, tried to douse flames with the liquid inside large decanters.Potion?It seemed to slice through the flames more quickly than water would, leaving a purple wavering in its wake.But it wasn’t enough.Anytime a flame sizzled out in a purple cloud of smoke, another leapt to life.
“The back door,” Apollo said.He made for it, only to lunge backward as a series of shelves bolted to the wall gave way.Potion bottles crashed against the ground, glass breaking.
Glassexploding.
Sybil screamed.
He danced her out of the way, shielding her with his body, his ears ringing.
The path to the back door blocked now.No way to the front.
Trapped.
Like hell they were.He couldn’t have Sybil, but this fucking fire wouldn’t have her either.
His heat welled up with almost no effort.It was like striking a match and watching light flare to life at the core of himself.It brightened every bit of him.It felt like… a light flickering on after a long time in the dark, or like looking into a mirror for the first time in a decade.Ah—there he was.Not the Marquess of Fordham.Not a failed transcendent.Not soulless.
He was Apollo Chester, and heat was in his blood.Not the measly heat of a human fire, the whole goddamn blazing, life-giving warmth of the sun itself.Just like Sybil had said.
He exhaled and blew the flames away.He inhaled and stole the fire’s heat, using it to steel his skin and hair and vulnerable flesh against the devouring beast.He slipped a bit of his heat into Sybil.And there was no wall between them, no pushback, as if he were entering her like a thief.
Not a thief.He belonged there, by her, with her, in her.
With a wave of one hand, he swept the fire out of the way.With a heavy breath, he tamed the flames swallowing the nearest exit.With his soul, he kept Sybil safe as he walked through a wall of fire, walked through a smoldering doorway, and out into the smoky night air.
Chaos in the back alley, and he kept marching down the street until they were a safe distance away.Only then did he set Sybil on her feet.
He kissed the top of her head and moved back toward the building.
