It was the first day you kissed me, under the willows, coming into Veraz. ‘Or do I arrest you and have these soldiers march you off to gaol?’ A sweep of his arm indicated the array of military strength on the benches, every eye of which was trained on the little scene being enacted before them. She dragged the broken bottle across her carotid artery, creating an inch-deep gash upon her throat. But she disapproved more and more of her own mental austerity. Then before she could say a word to arrest him he was at her side. ‘French? But what else?’ ‘I do not like Frenchmen,’ Melusine snapped.
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