‘Not if you don’t tell me about it.’
She let out an exasperated sigh, then sat down on the edge of the bed. He wasn’t going to understand the battalion, but what did it hurt to tell him? The more she avoided it, the more it felt like somehow she was ashamed.
‘Fine. If it will get you to stop being a fool and go somewhere safe, I’ll explain. When I said I chose this, I mean I chose to stay here and help people who ended up like I did, on the wrong end of the Revolutionary Tribunal. Rescuing them, if I can – we can. Me and my friends out there.’
James let out a soft whistle and sat next to her.
‘Cam, that’s…’
‘Foolish?’
‘I was going to say brave.’ He gave her a lopsided smile and looped their fingers.
She looked at their hands together, the familiarity of it and the strength of his grip. ‘Things have changed, James. So much has happened since we were… I’m not – I don’t…’
She should tell him about Ada. She owed him that much at least. But she couldn’t find the words. What if he reacted badly? Caused a scene? With Olympe in hiding, she couldn’t risk any attention being drawn to the battalion.
‘I need some time,’ she finished awkwardly.
‘Of course.’ He pressed a chaste kiss against her forehead. ‘I’ve missed you.’
She didn’t meet his eye. ‘I’ve missed you too.’
Before he could say anything else, she got up to leave. ‘When this job is done, I’ll see if we can help you get home.’
‘Come back with me, Cam,’ he said suddenly. ‘You know you always have a place with us.’
Her heart stuttered. Because his house was her home too, in many ways.
She turned away.
No. That was the past. The battalion was her future.
‘Stay put and keep out of our way.’
Camille shut the door behind her and shut away the pang of homesickness for a life long gone.
But the memory of James’s lips against hers lingered still.
2
The Parlour, Au Petit Suisse
Oh God,fiancé.
Ada could barely draw in a ragged breath around the shock.
She watched this stranger call Camille ‘Cam’, reach for her hand, move into her space as if he belonged there.HerCam, hers to touch and tease and snap at and love. Couldn’t he tell Camille was incredibly uncomfortable? Why did he keep holding her hand? If he was her fiancé he should be able to tell when she was uncomfortable.
Ada really disliked him.
Camille bundled him out of the parlour, and Ada sank onto a chaise longue, burying her face in her hands.
A chair scraped against the floor followed by the glug of liquid into a glass.
‘Chin up, Ada.’ Al set the glass on the arm of her seat. ‘I think he’s about to get dumped.’
Ada made an incoherent noise into her hands. ‘She wrote him letters. Even after we came here, she wrote to him. I’m such an idiot.’
