Louis squeezed the handle of the gun with each stride and scanned the sunlit hillside in front of him for any sign of Ramsay. He thought about her sitting out of sight against some short tree, bracing the long barrel for careful aim. He thought about her watching him at that very moment, counting the steps along with him.

"Eight, Nine, T--."

Louis snapped around and fired his ball through a narrow cone of white smoke at the blazing sun hanging in the sky behind Joubert. There was only the sound of one shot, the way it had been during practice the afternoon before. Joubert took an extra step back then dropped to his knees, still clutching the pistol in his hand. The smoke cleared and Louis' eyes adjusted to see Joubert kneeling with an astonished look on his face. A thin trail of blood trickled down from the small perfectly round black hole over his right eyebrow. Louis looked on in horror as Joubert blinked three or four times and swayed on his knees. His pistol bucked wildly in his relaxed hand as he fell face down on the short grass. Joubert's shot grazed Louis on the leg just below the knee.

Louis fell to the ground clutching his leg and looked back angrily at the anonymous hillside. Serge rushed up to him. The referee came over after looking at Joubert. Louis was bleeding badly and had to be carried the few hundred yards through the gardens to the palace where a royal assistant surgeon attended his wound.

Louis tried closing his eyes against the pain as the surgeon worked, but every time he did he saw Joubert's pale tired face with its blinking unbelieving eyes on the backs of his own eyelids. He cursed Ramsay for killing him. He visualized the satisfied look she must have had on her face at having made such a good shot, at taking another life with impunity. He should have seen it coming.

The surgeon closed the wound and wrapped the knee joint from mid-thigh to mid-calf. Louis fell asleep halfway through the wrapping. He awoke late in the afternoon as Ramsay, now dressed in a red and black velvet gown, came in.

"How are you?" she asked.

Louis sat up gingerly in the large bed. "Fine, they say I'll probably walk with a limp but..."

"Yes, but at least you're better off than Joubert. By the way, good shooting on your part. I didn't think you had it in you," she said breaking into a smile.

"You bastard!" he exploded. "I should have known you'd kill him. I should have known you’d do it."

"What are you talking about? I didn't shoot. My musket misfired. You shot him."

Louis narrowed his eyes. "You're lying."