He sneered. ‘You truly think you can hide her from us—’
‘You misunderstand me. I mean she has been taken – by someone else.’ Camille sagged. ‘It’s over.’
The change on the duc’s face was infinitesimal, but Camille could track the wave of anger in the twitch of his lips and flaring of his nostrils.
‘Who took her?’
‘The English.’
‘The— Youstupidgirl. You’ve ruined us all. If the English have her… ‘
Camille shrugged. ‘Not my problem now. Our deal is over. Give me back Adalaide before I give you a real problem.’
He gave a hollow laugh, peering down at her incredulously. ‘You threaten me?’
‘Oh, absolutely.’
‘You’re finished, Camille Laroche. Your battalion is in ruins. Can’t you tell when it’s time to give up? You’re as good as dead.’
Out of nowhere, a crossbow bolt whistled through the air, passing so close to the duc that it sliced off his lapel before thunking into a pillar.
He looked at the ragged edge of fabric in confusion.
Camille smiled, the light of recognition in her eyes.
She wasn’t alone.
‘Don’t you know who we are?’ she said. ‘We’re the Battalion of the Dead. Death couldn’t stop us, what makes you think you can?’
12
Above the Madeleine
Ada fitted another bolt to the crossbow and lifted it to her shoulder, sighting along its lines to bring the duc’s face into view. He had turned in the direction the bolt had come from, squinting against the sun behind her. Guil came crashing out from behind him to tackle the duc to the ground.
With two opponents, the duc gave in quickly, holding up his hands in surrender. Ada could see he was saying something – begging for his life, maybe – and Camille lurched forwards, snarling in fury. But Guil caught an arm around her and pulled her back, letting go of the duc. He took his chance and scrambled off into the ruins. Camille started after him but Guil said something, and Camille stilled, twisting in Ada’s direction. A swell of love caught in Ada’s chest.
It took Camille a moment to focus and realise Ada was in front of her. Something seemed to rip through her like lightning. The wild anger in her eyes faded, her shoulders slumped and her legs sagged. Ada flung herself down, crossbow slung over her shoulder, and closed the distance between them to gather Camille in her arms. They clung to each other, Ada pressing kisses to Camille’s bloody cheeks and Camille’s fingers digging into her sides. Her Camille, gaunt and ferocious and familiar.
‘I’m sorry – I’m sorry – I was too late – I got you hurt—’ Ada tripped over her words.
But Camille silenced her with another deep kiss. She was still crying, holding Ada’s face in her hands.
‘Shut up. Don’t ever apologise. You have never, ever hurt me.’
Tears cut tracks through the blood on Camille’s face.
Ada realised she was crying too. She couldn’t find the right words so she kissed her again, desperately, hoping it conveyed some spark of the heavy, painful love that filled her chest.
‘How did you find me?’ asked Camille.
‘It was Ada’s suggestion,’ said Guil. ‘She remembered the rendezvous where you met the duc before.’
Camille smiled and squeezed Ada’s hand.
Guil looked at the blood all over Camille.
‘You need medical attention. We will find you a doctor—’
