‘I know you don’t believe that. We might do distasteful things in the name of liberty and equality, but the duc, he’s the monster. We turn to violence in the name of freedom. They will use it to bring every last person in France back under their thumb.’

‘That doesn’t give you free rein to be just as bad. How much is liberty worth, if that’s the price?’

Comtois looked at her solemnly. ‘Liberty is worth any price. You’ll pay.’

Camille backed up a step towards the edge of the summit. Olympe moved with her, gripping her arm.

‘I won’t let you hurt her. It’s not right.’

‘We don’t want to hurt her,’ said Molyneux. ‘But she is so important, don’t you see? The Royalists will continue to undermine us at every turn – and if they succeed everything will be lost. Blood will run in the streets. France will never be free.’

‘You already wipe out anyone who stands in your path. It’s a bloodbath either way.’

The docteur held up his hands in truce. He was wearing the same style of neat black gloves he’d sewn Olympe into. ‘I know you understand what we’re saying, Camille. I know you don’t support the duc.’

‘Of course I don’t,’ she spat.

Camille pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. Her head hurt. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts and images and plans weaving and falling apart again. Her father would have figured this out, where to draw that awful line in the sand. If he could see her now, he wouldn’t be proud.

‘So let us take Olympe. Let us do what’s necessary. Remember where you come from.’

‘Stop it…’ Camille stumbled back another step.

She kept trying to make things work, but there was always something she hadn’t considered that meant she was wrong and stupid and a failure. Ada hated her. Guil had been stabbed. Al – god, Al had gone through the one thing she never, ever wanted to think about again. Her throat was closing up, the whistle-thunk sound of the guillotine filling her ears and the heart-crushing pain, threatening to claim her.

Molyneux smiled at her, that familiar smile of the man who had taught her to ride and passed her sweets under the table.

‘Camille, why else did you come? It’s time to make the right choice. I know it’s not an easy decision, but you already know it’s the right one.’

‘Don’t tell me what I think.’

Olympe’s fingers dug into her arm, sparks glancing off her fingers in anger.

‘You swore you wouldn’t let them take me. You swore.’

‘Shut up.’

She pushed Olympe away, struggling to catch her breath. Her chest hurt, everything hurt.

‘Please, Camille.’