At her feet lay her foe. A maroon stain appeared upon his chest, flooding the room with the fetid odor of blood. Jeanne looked to her own torso, expecting to find the same such growth, to the tip of her sword, stained with scarlet liquid.
Her rapid breath echoed in the hollowness of her helmet, and her heart beat loud in her ears. She remained, to her vast surprise, unharmed.
I have killed and lived, she thought, and such a thought sent her blood boiling through her veins. With a warrior"s cry, she turned to the villain beside her. For a second, she watched as the scoundrel attacked the other Musketeer and her uncle as well.
I have killed and livedThe foe fought with more skill and strength than the man whose life she"d just taken, but she had tasted the puissance of spilled blood and t
