James turned back to Camille. ‘Come on, Cam, surely this isn’t a total surprise. Did you really buy my story about sneaking into enemy territory to check up on you? This isn’t a novel, people don’t do things like that. You’re playing at things you don’t understand.’

For a few moments, his blows landed true, and Camille felt herself shrivel under the accusations. How many traps had she walked into by now?

‘Honestly, you made this easy for me. It’s almost embarrassing. I didn’t have the first clue how to find Olympe – but lo and behold there she was in your front room. I so nearly had her away while you were at dinner with Uncle Georges, only you did have to come back at the wrong moment. I thought the Royalists and Revolutionaries might cause me trouble – but now you’ve sorted that too.’ He rose from his haunches, gun still levelled on her as he started to lead Olympe away. ‘England thanks you for your assistance.’

They backed into the foundations and she was on her own. Cold earth under her knees, a cold breeze sticking her blood-stained clothes to her side.

She’d thought she’d lost everyone before, but now it was really true. James had betrayed her, taken Olympe. Al was meeting the guillotine that very moment.

She had to get up. She had to do something – anything.

She could give up. Or she could fight.

She could earn back their faith in her.

The crunch of a boot on the gravel caught her attention.

She looked up, squinting into the sun.

The Duc de l’Aubespine stepped into her path.

He took in the blood and Dorval’s sprawled body. ‘Mademoiselle Laroche.’

He carried no weapon. Why would he? She was just a girl. One he had outwitted at every turn.

‘Citoyen. You’re too late. Olympe is gone.’

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— You stupid girl. 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.