‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. Melusine flew after him, the sword held out before her and pointing directly at his retreating back. DeSoto, seemed to notice her thoroughly. Only last night she saw me, and there was horror in her eyes. ‘French? But what else?’ ‘I do not like Frenchmen,’ Melusine snapped.
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