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She is learning me well.
“Before the Great Fire,” I admit.
She gapes. “Of 1666?”
“Aye. Flames and Sir Christopher Wren completely changed the city. I hardly need to explore it to know it is polluted with more noise and people than ever.”
“But there are so many wonderful landmarks. The Tower…”
“There I have been, and not under pleasant circumstances. You will forgive me if I wish to forgo that tour.”
Olivia winces. “St. Paul’s Cathedral?”
“I prefer war over religion.”
“The Victoria and Albert Museum?”
“You will be on your feet too much, it will take too long, and we will see little of the city.”
She sends me a mulish stare. “The Tube.”
“Never. I dislike cars, but that… I would rather burn in hell.”
“I’ve got it!” She snaps her fingers. “The London Eye.”
“The what?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Olivia
Less than two hours later, I settle into one of the observation cars of the giant Ferris wheel. Marrok sits stiffly beside me.
In fifteen hundred years, he’s never given his heart to anyone. What does that say about him? He must have been gun shy after Morgana.
The attendant closes the door. Thankfully, the attraction isn’t terribly crowded since it’s both midweek and early. I’m excited to see the city from this vantage again. But when I turn to Marrok, the big Dark Ages warrior is fidgeting, sweating, and green.
“Are you claustrophobic?” I whisper.
“Nay.”
“Uh-huh. That’s why you’re restraining the urge to claw out of here with your bare hands.”
“Silence. I must focus on not vomiting.”
“Look out the windows, at all the open space and fresh air.”
“And one locked door trapping me from it all.”
I wince. I don’t want to upset Marrok, just make him see what he’s missing. “Once we get in the air, the view will be gorgeous.”
“Or we will fall to our deaths.”
With a reassuring smile, I settle my hand over his, shocked again by the resulting jolt of energy—and desire—from that one touch. “Are you afraid of heights, too? I got you.”
Marrok squeezes my hand and focuses on breathing as the car lurches into motion, taking us up, up, up.
Slowly, London reveals itself in all its glory. Fall nips at the last of the summer greenery, giving the city a more austere face than my springtime ride on the Eye, but a few of the colorful flowers remain. An unseasonably warm wind blows, considering it’s nearly November. People in the car with us laugh. Tourists snap pictures.
