Her heart in her mouth, hoping against hope, Melusine made her way back to where she had left the boy. His bravado waxed and he asked her to what would be her first date in nearly twenty years. It probably still wouldn’t help. I must tell somebody—and you would understand. She slipped past the servants, her soft roe-skin shoes unheard on the old stone. Some of the lunatics were rattling their chains; some shrieking; some singing; some beating with frantic violence against the doors. He could scarcely blame her. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. Even now he was not at all sure that she was not playing with him.
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