Sacrilege (60 page)

"Christ Himself."

"Careful, Bruno." He looked at me from under his brows. "One day your irreverence will land you in real trouble."

I had been told this before, more than once, but I had never been good at heeding advice. Sidney went on talking--about the war in the Netherlands, the necessity of English intervention--but his words began to wash over me as I continued to stare into the restless flames. I would go after the book. Despite Sidney's warning, I could not let it end like this. If Sophia had taken the book to Paris with the intention of selling it, I must find a means to hunt it down. Hunt
her
down. We had unfinished business, and I knew I could have no peace of mind until I had done everything in my power to resolve it. Call it stubbornness, call it pride; I preferred to think of it as tenacity. Whether Queen Elizabeth saw fit to patronise my book or not, I knew that nothing I wrote would ever truly live until I had unravelled the secrets of that book, and I also knew that I was the only one who could do it. I would not rest until I had it in my hands again--and until I had made Sophia understand that she was wrong.