The next moment he was by her side. Gerald stood quite still for a moment or two, listening intently. To her consternation, the sound drew her great-aunt’s attention and she threw out a hand. Once she heard him mutter, and she leaned down. ‘Jacques!’ Melusine dropped to her haunches beside his inert form, feeling for the wound. “Neither you nor I, Nigel, are made of such stuff,” she answered. Sorrows and danger and disappointment she had known. Mother? Suzanne Valade, her mother? With deliberation, he spoke.
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