Cursed holiday season! It really slowed this chapter down, but here it is.. CHAPTER 7! I don't know I got this far along, I am cruising. Kind of. Not really. Maybe I am cruising really really slowly. Like an old lady driving on the highway. Anyways, regardless if I am cruising or not, here is chapter seven. Unfortunately, I didn't have enough time to deal with Dom because Claude is selfish and takes up all my time. So that will be next chapter. For now, here is chapter seven with a ridiculously long name and suprises galore!
reading plus reviews equal good :)
Chapter Seven : Mademoiselle Lisette Domenge Laurensa
The horse galloped, her hooves were light and swift across the frozen ground. Claude urged her to go faster, the wind in his ears seemed to whisper "hurry, hurry, hurry." The trees parted, giving way to a low slung cabin. He rode closer, almost to the door, and jumped from the horse's bag. Containing his excitement for a moment, he wrapped the horse's reins to the branch of a nearby tree. No sooner than he did this, the door swung open.
"Claude? Is that you?"
He turned, "Lisette, darling, it's only been three months, have you forgotten me already?"
"No, of course not, it's just that you left last time so suddenly. You buried your father and just disappeared, I didn't know what to think-"
"Oh, Lisette, don't think about that," he said, stepping toward her and wrapping his arms around her slim shoulders. "I'm here now."
"Yes, you certainly are," she said, a little surprised by his warmth. It had only been three months since the he had arrived at her door, cold and indifferent. Now he was someone else.
"The most wonderful thing has happened," he said, his pale face lit up with a smile.
She smiled back, happy for something to smile about. Tucking her blonde hair behind one of her ears, she nodded toward the cabin. "Should we go inside and talk?"
"Yes," Claude answered. "I need to talk to Pieter too."
"He, ah, hasn't been well lately," she said as they walked toward the cabin.
Claude shrugged, "When has he ever been well?"
She smiled wanly and picked the front of her skirt up to keep it out of the mud. Claude opened the door of the cabin and Lisette stepped inside, "Thank you," she muttered as she did. She walked to the fire and tossed a few logs in.
"I'm going to talk with Pieter," Claude said, watching Lisette tend to the fire.
She turned, her round face looked tired and drawn, "Don't wake him-"
"This is worth waking him for," Claude answered. "Trust me."
Lisette pressed her hand to her chest. "He's really not well."
Claude shook his head, "Lisette, it's you that looks ill. Is everything alright?"
"Claude," she said, breaking into tears, "he's sick."
He walked across the room, wrapping his arms around her. "I know, I know. Shh, listen, I will go tell him my news, then we can find a healer to help him, alright?"
Her thin frame shook with another wave of sobs, "We have been to every healer-"
"Shh, Lisette, I have good news. Things are going to be alright." He stepped back, "Why don't you just sit here by the fire? I have to talk to Pieter, then we can think of something to do."
She nodded weakly and sank to a chair beside the fire. Claude gave her shoulder a squeeze and went into the room that he had been in only a short three months ago, but things would be different this time. He went into the room, a burning candle was perched on a pile of books, his brother was lying in the bed, his eyes closed and a book open in his stomach. For a heart stopping moment, Claude thought he was dead, but his brother blinked and sat up when he came into the small room.
"Claude," he said, his voice coming out as a harsh whisper. His eyes were sunken deep into his face and his skin seemed to literally be sliding off his skull.
"Pieter, I came back," Claude said, grinning.
"Yes you did," Pieter responded feebly, not seeming to notice how his thin lips were cracked and bleeding in some places.
He tried to sit down, but had too much energy to be still. "Pieter, I did it. I did what you said."
"What?"
"All that about redemption? About being miserable, but at least being doing the right thing? To make it all worthwhile?" Claude said excitedly. He paced in the small space of the room. "You were right. I am on your side."
Pieter blinked slowly, listening.
"Pieter, I will do as you ask. I am yours to command. Whatever you would have me do, I will do it." He let out a bark of a laugh, "But I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? I haven't told you the story, because, trust me, there is a story." He paused to collect his thoughts.
"I left here and was so angry with you for telling me what I thought then to be lies. I thought that you just wanted to use me for your own purposes and that you really didn't mean what you said. So I went back to the place where my troops were camped. They were camped out in the countryside but they would sneak into a nearby town to find food, drink, and women. I went into town to try to round up some of the soldiers for the training that they were missing and I came upon a group of them terrorizing a maiden, she was my age, fourteen, I believe. So naturally I told them to get back to camp and I was walking away when the maiden threw a rock at my back. I turned and said to her,
'Why would you throw a rock at me after I just helped you?'
'You aren't helping me!" she cried.
"I thought she was mad, I told her 'I am not the one going around harassing you, don't point your finger at me.'
'Well you're not stopping them most of the time," she replied.
"I just shrugged. 'But I'm not actually doing anything to harm you."
'You're doing something by not doing anything,' she said, 'Inaction is just as much of an action than an action because you're telling them that it's okay. You might as well be standing here, joining in.' Not the most eloquent, but it really struck a nerve in me. Then she turned and ran away, I stood there and watched her go.
"I thought about what she had said and then I remembered what you said. And I realized what I had to do. I rode back to the camp and I stopped the training session to make an announcement. I told the men that if they engaged in unruly behavior there would be consequences like latrine duty, extra training sessions, reduced rations. Rewards for good behavior were extra rations and a higher chance of moving up in the ranks. And I added that officers found doing the same thing would be even more severely punished as they need to be role models. I went back to my tent and set up a committee of those I thought were somewhat fair-minded to review behaviors and keep the rules.
"Obviously, the men resisted at first, but these are real people. They have families and thoughts of their own, they weren't completely in love with what they were doing either. However, my superiors didn't like my reforms. They told me to stop. They commanded to stop, but I didn't change, Pieter, I looked them in the eye and defied their orders.
"I gained notoriety from the town around us, soon every town wanted my troops to camp near them. We were civil, the others weren't. Good men wanted to enlist in my ranks. My troops were the largest and more comfortable than others, because the towns were friendly to us and would work with us. All of this in two months! My peers were far from pleased though. Finally, my reformations and defiance reached the ears of the king. He called me to his court.
"I went before him, unafraid. He told me to bow and I told him that I would only bow to a king and a king is one who leads his people to better lives, not one who hurts them. His soldiers broke my legs out from under me, but I my resolve didn't falter. He said that if I didn't change back to the old ways he would strip me of my rank. And, brother, if you didn't know, stripping of the rank requires that the officer's tattoo is removed, along with a sizable chunk of the chest. No one survives.
"Of course, I refused. The king sent me to a cell, where I would wait until the next day when I would be stripped of my office and probably die. I sat in my cell, unafraid. The guard spoke to me, he asked me how I could be so calm facing my death. I told him my story, but as it was, he knew of me. He also knew of my brother and his infamous Liberté.
'You are a Jacques,' he told me, 'you are destined to do right, I suppose, even if you lose your way sometimes.'
"It's true, Pieter, you know? But anyways, then Alphonse, that was the guard's name, told me about his own life and his struggles with the Scanran ruler. I told him of my regrets of not being able to join your rebellion and he set me free. Just like that. He went to collect his wife and daughter and will be here in two days. Alphonse and I are fugitives from the law, but we offer ourselves to you. We will do whatever service you ask of us."
Pieter gave him a slow, tired smile. "I am glad to hear that you changed your mind."
"I know, I am glad to be able to tell you. I am glad to finally have a purpose grander than mere survival. Not that I am against surviving, but now it doesn't matter near as much. The cause is greater. I value doing right more than I value staying alive, such a strange thing to say, isn't it?"
Pieter coughed weakly. "You get used to it," he said.
"Pieter, what's our first plan of action? We have to deal with those Tortallans. They are fighting the Scanran army, but they have huge stores of food that are going to waste."
"We need the Tortallans to be our allies," Pieter said quietly.
"I know. But how? We can't convince each and every Tortallan officer to give up the extra food, we need to go straight to the top. We need to make a statement to the King of Tortall."
"That will be rather challenging, won't it?" Pieter said, his voice cracking. His eyelids slid closed and he leaned his head back against the pillow. He struggled to open his eyes a crack.
"I have a plan," Claude said. "I will lead a raid on Fort Steadfast. If the raid is successful, the Scanran people get food, if it is not, then the Tortallans will bring me to Corus. To the king."
"It is too dangerous."
"Everything I have done so far has been dangerous. I have sacrificed being an officer, what I have worked nearly my whole life to achieve, for this. I know what it means to do crazy things. I am going to do it."
"Claude, you can't," Pieter said, "I need you to lead the Liberté in my stead."
"In your stead? What are you talking about?"
His eyes opened all the way. "I am not going to last long."
"We all are, Pieter. In fact, the way I'm living, I will probably be the first to go. You have to be the responsible one and keep the Liberté organized. You can't die." Claude looked at his brother and saw his bones, pressing against the thin layer of skin that covered his limbs and fingers.
"No, Claude, I am going to die."
Claude fell over, bracing himself against a wall. "N-no. Pieter. You can't-" he trailed off. "We just need to get you a proper healer, that's all."
"We have been to every healer we could find. We have done everything we can."
"Obviously not if you aren't getting any better!" Claude said, his green eyes round as he gazed at his brother. "I have done all this for you. I have sacrificed everything for you."
"No, you have sacrificed everything for righteousness. You did it for yourself, I merely showed you what that righteousness is," his voice was soft, as if it was coming from far away. "I will die, but you will continue the Liberté."
Claude shook his head frantically, "No, Pieter, no."
"You can take my name if you would like, so no one will suspect" he paused, exhausted by the effort of speaking, "the transfer of leadership. Lisette will help you when she is ready, she is wildly intelligent and" another pause, "could perhaps take over command so you can be without worry. But first she must" a slow breath "grieve properly."
Claude's eyes misted, he wiped at them desperately. "This can't be how things are working out! This is not the end! Pieter, I have missed you through all my years in the army. I have waited to make you proud and I won't let you go this easily! I will not!"
"What's going on?" Lisette said, stepping into the room, "I heard shouting."
Claude grabbed a book from one of the stacks and threw it at the floor violently. It landed with a slap that resonated loudly in the small cluttered room.
"Claude, what's wrong?" she asked, looking from Claude to Pieter, her blue eyes wide and questioning.
His eyebrows drew together and his lips pressed into a straight line. He gave his head a shake, sending wild blond hairs flying, and slammed out of the room.
"Claude!"
Lisette sank to the bed beside Pieter and clasped his frail hand in hers. She reached out and brushed his thin hair off his forehead. She sat with him, watching the shadows that the lone candle cast on his thin face until the candle had burned down to a pool of wax and the flame was flickering at the end of the wick. Lisette leaned over and blew out the dying flame.
----------------------------------------------------
"Where is he?"
The healer's assistant, a thick woman with pudgy arms and a round face stared up at the tall man blankly. She blinked her eyes slowly, trying to let her mind catch up with the situation. "Sir, I don't know-" she stammered out.
"The Jacques boy, where is he?" the man repeated, his dark glistening eyes staring over a hooked nose.
"Master Numair, I can't let you in to see him," the healer's assistant said. "You'll need permission from the head healer, who is abed as the hour is quite late."
"Then let's not wake her," Numair said, "I need to see him. Now."
The assistant nodded, "I know, but the morning would be a much better time. You can ask the head healer first thing in the morning." She was regaining some confidence now that the shock of meeting up with a powerful mage had begun to settle in her mind.
"I didn't travel all the way here to be asked to wait, surely you understand," Numair said through his teeth. He was loosing his patience.
The assistant nodded, "Sir, you must be tired after traveling all the way here, why don't you get some rest first? Then you can question him in the morning, he is not going anywhere." She smiled sweetly and as she did the fat on her face folded up like an accordion. "I promise."
Numair turned started walking, the assistant jumped up and followed him. "Sir, sir, you can't go back there! Sir!"
He didn't seem to hear her objections as he strode past her, he walked past a line of beds. A few of the beds were occupied, Numair stopped at each one to pull back the blanket, look at the sleeping person beneath it, then toss the blanket back on. He moved to the end of the hall, checking every bed as he went.
He turned to the assistant. "Where is he?"
The healer returned his look with a plaintive one. "Master Numair, you really shouldn't be back here. If they find out that I let you back here they will be furious with me."
"I would be more afraid of my fury, if I were you," Numair said, drawing himself to his full height, "Which I am coming very close to becoming."
"Sir, I j-just can't," she said, pressing her chubby fingers to her cheeks.
Numair's eyes circled the neatly made beds of the infirmary and lingered on a rumpled bed near the end of the room. "Where's that patient?" he asked.
"Taking a leak?" the assistant murmured unconvincingly.
Numair strode out of the infirmary, the assistant trailing close behind. His eyes moved around Haven quickly, it was late and the place was deserted.
"I don't know what you are planning on finding," the assistant said. "Really, you can speak with the boy tomorrow morning. First thing, I promise."
"Tell me where he is or, Mithros help me, I will-" Numair said threateningly, he paused, trying to think of a good finish for the statement.
Apparently he didn't need a conclusion for the threat, the assistant sighed and pointed toward a low building that was obviously a stable.
"You'd better hope that you are not lying to me," Numair said before striding off.
The assistant followed him, "I'm not lying to you, but I am telling you to wait till tomorrow. Really, they will have my head for this!"
Numair ignored her and pushed the heavy wood door open.
"Sir, wait!" the assistant begged, "Please!"
He stepped inside, the stable was light by a number of lanterns hanging from the rafters. A group of soldiers were standing around, watching something that was hidden to Numair by the low stalls for the horses. He walked forward, catching eyes from the soldiers.
"I told him not to come in here-" the assistant started, but couldn't think of anything else to say.
The soldiers shifted awkwardly as Numair passed them and walked to the thing that had them all so captivated.
"Sir, I can explain," a soldier said, he was kneeling by a heap that was presumably a person. He got to his feet and made no attempt to hide the small fire that was burning next to the heap. He dropped the metal bar he was holding.
Numair stared at him, "I'm glad that someone can."
"Sir, you see, here's the thing," the soldier said, "This was our last night with him before we have to send him to Corus. We need answers."
Numair kneeled beside the heap of a person and rearranged the limbs so he was lying flat on his back. He let out a moan as Numair touched him. "So you do this?" He picked up one of the boy's arms, which were covered with burn marks.
"Like I said, we need answers. He's a Scanran officer, we all saw the tattoo. He might have someone else here working with him, you know? We need to find out who is now, not later." The other soldiers nodded in agreement.
Numair lowered the boy's arm and set it on the ground, eliciting another groan from deep in his throat. "So this is your solution?"
"We were desperate," the soldier said. "He wasn't talking."
"So this is how you honor your country?" Numair asked, his voice harsh. "This is what being a Tortallan means to you?"
The soldiers exchanged worried glances.
"Get out," Numair said quietly.
"Master Numair, this was-" the soldier started.
Numair shot to his feet, "Get out!" he shouted. "Get out!" he repeated louder.
"You have to understand-"
"I understand that you will not be a soldier for this country much longer, that's what I understand," Numair said. He pointed at the door, "Out."
The soldiers and assistant fled, pushing and shoving to get out of the door faster. Numair didn't watch, he kneeled beside the boy. He lifted the boy's shirt, a loose white bandage was wrapped around his torso. "Didn't even bother to heal you properly," Numair whispered.
The boy coughed, but didn't open his eyes any wider than the slit they were currently.
Numair looked over the collection of bruises and fresh burns, "It's amazing that you're still alive."
------------------------------
Claude blinked, the wood of the ceiling moved in and out of focus. He brought a hand up to wipe at his eyes, it was stiff, he felt stiff all over. Beneath the stiffness was tiredness, but beneath that was nothing. A comfortable, normal, nothing. He briefly wondered if he was dead.
"You need to eat something."
Claude turned his head, he saw a man sitting on the edge of the bed beside him. The man was familiar.
"Alexandre Corin," Numair said thoughtfully, "Or Claude Jacques? Which do you prefer?"
"Claude," he answered, pulling himself to a sitting position.
"Well, Claude, I must say that I had a rough time healing you the night before last. A spell to keep you from being healed by the Gift? Not that great of an idea."
Claude looked down, a muscle in his jaw twitched.
"But I took it off, you can now be subject to healing at any time," Numair said. "I don't know what you remember about the other night, but things got a little rough. Luckily I was here, you could have died."
"What iz it zat you want?" Claude asked sharply, cutting off Numair's pleasant sounding voice.
Numair almost smiled, "All business this morning, eh?"
"I don't 'ave any buzinez, with you or anyone else."
"I would beg the differ, but I'm not really in the mood for an argument. We'll work all this out on our way to Corus, alright?" He reached out for Claude's shoulder, causing Claude to jump backwards, away from him.
Numair reached over deliberately and gave him a firm, but gentle pat. "Eat something."
Claude didn't look up as Numair walked out of the room. He glanced over at a tray of food placed next to his bed and reached out for it. His side felt nice, he had gotten used to the wound from the arrow that had been lodged there. He picked up an apple and bit into it ravenously.
The door at the end of the hall slid open, Lisette entered the room, her blonde hair piled on her head and her eyes dark with makeup. She walked down the aisle between the beds, hips swerving and shoes clacking.
"My, my," she drawled, "you look good."
One of Claude's blond eyebrows rose.
"Don't give me zat look," she said, "I am being zerious. You look far better zan you did, trust me."
Claude continued to chew his apple, not looking up at her.
She adjusted the fur that was wrapped around her thin shoulders, "I zaw you come in the other night, the tall man brought you in 'ere. You did not look zo good."
He rotated the apple and took another bite.
"Theze Tortallans, zey get it in zeir 'eads zat zey are zo righteous but zen they do zomezing like burn up a boy's armz," she said, sinking to the bed beside him with a rustle of skirts.
"Zey thought zey were protecting zeir people," Claude replied. "You can't blame zem for zat."
"Zo we are taking zeir zide now?" Lisette snapped.
"Oui," Claude said, "I guess we are."
Lisette tossed her head, "You should 'ave zeen you after zey were through with you. You would be zinging a different tune if you 'ad."
"Did you want zomezing, Lisette?"
"Of course I do," she said, reverting to Scanran.
Claude finished his apple and returned the core to the tray. Lisette's eyes followed his movements.
"Don't you want to know what it is that I want?" she asked.
He picked up a piece of bread and stuffed it in his mouth. "Not particularly, no."
"Claudey, ma chéri, just hear me out." She reached out and put her hand on his, "It is important."
"Lisette, I really don't want to hear anything that you have to say," Claude said, pulling his hand away.
"Why? Would it be because you have already decided to tell the Tortallans everything? You are planning on selling all of us out, aren't you?"
Claude sighed and reached for another piece of bread. "I wouldn't say selling out. Perhaps honesty is best at this point, Lisette. Tortall would be a powerful ally."
"Well, I would call it selling out!" Lisette cried.
"Would you now?" Claude asked disinterestedly.
"I would. That's why I simply can't let you do it," she sighed, "especially because I know that the only reason you want to tell is so that you can make amends with that Keladry woman."
"What's so wrong with that?" Claude said, picking up another piece of bread.
"She's getting married! To someone else!" Lisette sputtered.
Claude shrugged and bit into his bread.
"So that's it?" Lisette asked, crossing her arms across her small waist. "You are going to give the Liberté up, just like that?"
"Do you think I am a good fighter?" Claude said mildly as he chewed on his bread.
"Of course you are. The best."
Claude pushed the last bit of bread into his mouth. "Then trust me when I say that I know what fights I can and cannot win. This one I can win, but I am going to need help."
"You need help, but not from Tortall. Tortall no ally of ours," Lisette replied.
"They became our allies after I went to Corus when I was fourteen. I hope to renew that alliance, but I can only do that if I tell them the truth."
Lisette's lips pressed together, "Are you going to give up all your contacts? All your information? All your power? Are you going to turn the Liberté movement into the Tortallan one?"
"We will be allies in every sense of the word. They want to see the Scanran government overturned just as much as we do." He stared at her levelly. "No arguing Lisette, I have made up my mind."
"Your mind? You are the only one in the Liberté now?" She was leaning forward and her voice was shrill.
"As the leader of the Liberté, I can tell you that this is how it is going to be. What say do you have in the matter?" Claude asked. "You had your chance to join and fight the Liberté but you did not take it."
"I know, I should have been stronger. But Pieter was so much to me, joining the Liberté was too hard back then. I can only join now. I can tell you now that bringing Tortall into our affairs would be a mistake."
Claude lifted his shoulders and then let them fall carelessly. "You can tell me but it won't do any good."
Lisette tapped her lip with her nail thoughtfully. She stared at Claude, her blue eyes took in his appearance, but her mind was elsewhere.
"Is that all, Lisette? I should be resting, healers may have seen to my injuries after Numair took off the spell that kept me from being healed, but I am still rather tired." He reclined on his pillow and closed his eyes to show that he was serious.
"Oh, I suppose that is all, though I would think that Tobe will be rather disappointed to hear of your decision." Lisette climbed to her feet, "But I won't trouble you, au revoir Claude, I hope zat you feel better."
"What?" Claude asked, his eyes popping open. "Who?"
"Tobe, but I don't think that you will care as you have already made up your mind." She shrugged, "Too bad though."
"What? Lisette I am in no mood for your games," Claude said, reaching out and taking hold of her slim wrist.
Her eyes flicked down to his hand on her wrist, to his face, then back to her wrist. He dropped his hand as if she had slapped him.
"This is no game, Claude, ma chéri, in fact it is a very serious matter."
"What is, Lisette?" Claude asked slowly.
"Remember Tobe? The boy you kidnapped?"
"Get to the point Lisette," he growled.
"Well, here's the deal. If you tell Tortall what you know about the Liberté, I will kill him." She smiled at him cheerily and perched on his bed again.
Claude lunged at her, grabbing her by the shoulders. He gripped her and gave her a shake. "You wouldn't."
She raised her eyebrows, "Oh?"
He dropped his hands to his lap. "What do you want from me?"
"Oh, Claude, don't act like this. I am doing what is best," Lisette said.
"Don't try to justify anything this. You're blackmailing me. Fine, you keep the boy safe and I won't say a word."
"Dear, dear, you only wish that is was that simple," she said with a small shake of her head. "Mages, dearest, what about them?"
"What about them?" Claude asked, his green eyes blazing.
"They will find some way to break your silence, especially that Numair fellow." She pulled a small glass vile about the size of her smallest finger from the low neckline of her dress. She held it up and gave it a little shake.
Claude looked to the side of his bed, a muscle in his jaw twitched. He was holding back.
"Don't you want to know what is?" Lisette said, simpering at his apparent lack of interest.
"No, I really don't," he replied.
"This little potion is like a rag, except that instead of soaking up spilled water it will soak up all the memories inside your head." She looked at the vile, it was filled with a clear liquid. "Fascinating, isn't it?"
Claude didn't reply.
"It cost a fortune and was nearly impossible to get our hands on," Lisette said idly, she tapped on the vile with her nail.
"You wasted your time, I'm sure this whole thing is hardly worth all the effort."
"On the contraire, ma chéri, I think that it most certainly was." She held it out to him, "Down the hatch?"
"This is my whole life that we're talking about," Claude said. "I can't just throw it away. How memory will it 'absorb'?"
"Funny, I thought were talking about Tobe's life, not yours. But since we are, I will tell you that all your memory will be gone. You won't remember any of it."
"All of it?"
"You will be starting fresh," she said, "A blank slate."
"What will happen to my memories?"
Lisette smiled, "They will come with me."
"Destroy them."
Lisette raised her eyebrows, "I'll make that decision. Ready to drink? I don't want to linger here too long, it would be suspicious."
Claude held out his hand.
"That's a good boy," she purred, handing over the vial.
"And you will look after Tobe? Release him?"
"After the war is over, he will be free as a bird," she answered, "but not before then. He knows too much, which if I recall correctly is your fault."
Claude stared at the vial resting in the palm of his hand. "Tell him that I am sorry."
"I will. Don't worry, Alphonse has taken quite a liking to him. He will be alright, provided you drink that vial of course."
Claude held the vial between two fingers and pulled out the stopper. He held it to his lips.
"Wait. You have to drink it down, then wait for a bit before spitting back into the vial. Got it?"
Claude tipped his head back and let the liquid slide into his mouth, he swallowed.
"You will wake up later and not remember a thing. Literally," Lisette said. "Though you will remember skills, like speaking and writing, but you won't remember where or how you learned them. I think. I'm not positive how this works but that's what the mage said."
He choked a little, but kept his lips pressed together tightly.
"You're doing good," she muttered. "Now, spit."
Claude spit back into the vial. The small glass vial filled with a creamy blue liquid that released a silvery glow.
"Perfect," Lisette said, topping the vial with the stopper. She tucked the vial into the top of her dress.
"I wish I could have told Kel how I feel about her," Claude whispered as he laid back on his pillow, he was impossibly tired so that even speaking was an incredibly effort.
"She doesn't care, ma chéri. Forget about her." Lisette leaned forward to press her lips against his forehead, which was damp with sweat. "Au revoir, little Claude." She got to her feet.
"Wait, Lisette," Claude breathed, "Have I ever told…"
She leaned over him, her expression concerned and tears welling in her eyes. "What, ma chéri?"
"Have I ever told you that sometimes I really, really don't like you?" His eyes slipped closed, he couldn't stay awake any longer. The dark black of sleep claimed him.
