‘Parbleu, the bullet is still inside you,’ Melusine guessed, remembering how the Mother Abbess had diagnosed Leonardo’s suffering when he had first come to the convent. ’ She saw the weapon wrenched from Emile’s hand and he dropped to the bench of the pew and sat there, grasping helplessly at the welling blood on his arm. ’ ‘Eh bien, what then?’ Emile sidled closer. Wood—and after him came his daughter. ‘I’ll play you at your own game,’ he growled, holding the foreshortened foil in place with rigid control. Your poor cheeks are quite sunken and hollow. “I love you.
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