“My lion,” I said. Gaze flicking over the gold pendant held by my fingers, he half smiled. “It suits,” he said, looking back up at me. “Meant to find you, I should think.” “Yes. Strange to think, lost to someone else, but found for me.” Islington looked away, towards the window. “As happens in life.” I can’t say it for certain, but I thought his words sounded like a minor chord, a trace of melancholy beneath them.
