Swinging her arm in an arc, she let go of the foil and it flew across the chapel towards the main door, crashing down between the pews, and clattering onto the floor. He cocked an eyebrow. But this revulsion was engulfed by the succeeding waves of pity and understanding. It probably had its own repulsive oubliette in the bottom, where tiny princesses could fall and break their necks. It’s a mismatch. Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. Though it’s very kind of you. ‘I should not dream of forcing my attentions on you.
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