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Back Dangerous Remedy
Chapters (86)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Contents
  7. Paris, June 1794
  8. PART ONE
  9. 1
  10. 2
  11. 3
  12. 4
  13. 5
  14. 6
  15. 7
  16. PART TWO
  17. 1
  18. 2
  19. 3
  20. 4
  21. 5
  22. 6
  23. 7
  24. 8
  25. 9
  26. 10
  27. 11
  28. 12
  29. PART THREE
  30. 1
  31. 2
  32. 3
  33. 4
  34. 5
  35. 6
  36. 7
  37. 8
  38. 9
  39. 10
  40. 11
  41. 12
  42. 13
  43. 14
  44. 15
  45. 16
  46. 17
  47. PART FOUR
  48. 1
  49. 2
  50. 3
  51. 4
  52. 5
  53. 6
  54. 7
  55. 8
  56. 9
  57. 10
  58. 11
  59. PART FIVE
  60. 1
  61. 2
  62. 3
  63. 4
  64. 5
  65. 6
  66. 7
  67. PART SIX
  68. 1
  69. 2
  70. 3
  71. 4
  72. 5
  73. 6
  74. 7
  75. 8
  76. 9
  77. 10
  78. 11
  79. 12
  80. 13
  81. 14
  82. Postscript
  83. A Ship in Le Havre Port
  84. Acknowledgements
  85. About the Author
  86. About Zephyr

‘She always had lovely hair,’ she continued. ‘It’s a silly thing to remember, and she was far more interested in other things, like politics and poetry and debating. But she was always complimented her on her lovely hair, as if it was the most important thing about her. She’d tell everyone that it was a stupid compliment, because she’d never done anything to earn her hair. It just grew out of her head. It didn’t take skill or patience or talent or determination. It was hair. She’d far rather be complimented on her quick mind or her clever words or her kind heart. But when they held up her head still dripping with blood, they’d got it in her hair. And all I could think of was how they’d spoiled her lovely hair. At the last moment of her life, when everything else she’d ever fought for had been taken away, they took that too.’

From her pocket, she pulled the cameo locket. Her parents’ faces looked back at her. The coil of her mother’s hair fluttered in the breeze. She took it out, winding it around her finger. Then she held her hand over the side of the ship and let the strands slowly fan into the wind, before they were snatched away entirely.

Al pulled out a bag of wrinkly hazelnuts from his pocket and offered her one. ‘My mother was ... nothing like yours, to put it mildly. But they reduced her to nothing too. All her poise and wit and fine clothes and skill at the pianoforte and ability to negotiate any social situation … it was gone. There were only her eyes looking out at me, as if she could still see me.’

Camille shuddered.

Al let a long silence billow out in the wind before he spoke again. ‘I wonder if they can still see us.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I read something once in one of Ada’s journals about how long you can stay alive without air, without your blood pumping. It’s not very long, of course, but I wonder if it would be long enough for them to see the crowd. To know they were dead.’

Camille didn’t reply, but wrapped her cloak closely around her so it covered her throat. Sea spray stung her eyes and painted salt along her lips.

Pressing her fingers into her eyes, she tried to shut away thoughts of Ada and Guil left behind. Things were going to get messy, and she wouldn’t be there. But Ada knew what she was doing. Ada was smart and brave and cunning. She trusted her.