The impassivity of her features changed at last. ‘Where did you get that, miss?’ ‘It is the sword of monsieur le major. Melusine saw fire in his eyes and a streak of heat rushed through her to match it. Ten thousand steeds appeared to be trampling aloft, charged with the work of devastation. ‘Jacques!’ Melusine dropped to her haunches beside his inert form, feeling for the wound. ‘Not where we’re going. She leaned a little towards him. They shouted to her from the wings to come off. The gallows has groaned for him for years. Martha had been more to her than that.
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