“Why? Why is your life over?” Lynette insisted, arms firmly around Jeanne"s back as the three women stood alone in the deserted egress.
Jeanne shook her head, kept shaking it, silent lips quivered on a blanched face.
“You must speak to us.” Olympe took Jeanne by the shoulders, giving her a small yet fierce shake. “We cannot help you unless you tell us what is wrong.”
Jeanne"s head stilled; a narrowed squint focused on the familiar face.
“My fathe—”
The blaring horn obliterated her words; she jumped in fright, head twitching on a vein-strained neck, gapping russet eyes flitted back and forth.
“Calm, ma chère, calm yourself.” Olympe took her hands, patting them softly. “It is time for the King"s Couvert. They will all be coming.”
ma chèreCouvertOlympe could barely be heard as a throng
