If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. ‘Burned them, one by one, right before that fellow’s eyes. So long as she could remember, her father had never permitted her to sit at the table unless she came fully dressed. She slipped past the servants, her soft roe-skin shoes unheard on the old stone. “What have I done, Miss Pellissier?” he pleaded. The evil in his eyes towards her was explosive. At least I rather hoped I might spend my time chasing smugglers, which would have afforded some excitement.
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