She looked from Anna, who was far too nice-looking to be travelling about alone, to that reassuring pile of luggage, and wrinkled her brows thoughtfully. ’ It was the Press who forced the identity upon me. I loved her so much. Before you go I'll give you a list of books to read. A slow heavy thumping started up in Melusine’s chest, and she scarcely took in the astonished silence in those present in the room. In those revolutionary times one had to be prepared. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once.
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