” She glared at Sebastian over the drawing table where she was sketching in chalk, then over at the fifteen year old boy who was asleep in a disheveled pile of rushes in the corner. ‘It is that he needed me for his lie, no?’ Melusine said, striving to control the quiver in her voice. How would it serve Nicholas to keep the truth from his daughter? A tiny thread of disquiet troubled him. They were loath to admit to the public that the case would be closed in a few years for sheer lack of forensic evidence. “Serves you right if I’d cracked your skull.
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