Cunningham's eyes still burned in fury and hatred, and a sickeningly cold smile crossed his cracked lips. "Not so clever after all, are you?"

"Clever enough to know how you've escaped," Catrine stared back in defiance, tossing her head back and stepping away.

Cunningham grimaced, folding his arms over his bare chest. "And how is that?"

Eyeing him over carefully, Catrine flashed a smile. "A lock pick. One carefully concealed in the top of your right boot, 'sieur ex-marshal." She began to reach down to his right leg, "Allow me, Sir Cunningham."

But his hand beat her there first. He drew out the lock pick, "You truly are clever, my lady," he gave a twisted smile, "too clever for your own good. Don't you know how dangerous it is for women to be so clever?" In an instant, he tossed the pick aside and reached for his left boot, withdrawing a long dagger from the inside. Cunningham lunged forward, meaning to drive the blade deep into her chest.

In the same instant, Catrine reached inside her bodice, drawing out her own curved dagger from the top. A clash rang out as the blades met. Catrine parried his thrust; she nicked the backside of his hand as a surprised Walter Cunningham regained his stance.

He nodded, giving a cracked laugh, "Impressive. But still, it's such a shame I have to kill you, my dear. I can't get away and let you live. And I will inevitably choose to avoid the executioner at all costs."

Catrine laughed loudly, echoing off the stone walls. "It's truly funny, marshal, for you are looking at your executioner right now. I had already warned you of that." With a loud cry, she punched him square in the nose, trying to make his already broken nose bleed again. He ducked and quickly punched her in the side.

She screamed again and hid her dagger between her fingers. Spinning around, she returned the gesture, stabbing the blade in Cunningham's side, her punch drawing blood. Now he screamed in pain, clutching at his wound.

"You bitch," he growled. He lunged forward, his dagger blade, long and shining in the dim candlelight, aimed right for her heart. Catrine had nowhere to turn; she stuck her left arm out to block the blade, the dagger drawing against her arm, biting her flesh. Filled with pain, Catrine screamed but didn't hesitate for a moment. Having blocked his thrust, Catrine plunged her dagger right into his stomach. Cunningham released a gurgle of pain. She immediately stabbed him a second and a third time, hearing his flesh separate. Cunningham stepped backwards from her, clutching at his chest, his bare skin covered in blood.

At that moment, Guy and his men ran down the dungeon steps, following the screams and echoing noises. Guy's eyes opened wide in shock at the scene before him. Cunningham collapsed to the ground, his blood spilling over the stone floor. And Catrine turned to look at Guy, her face paling as she smiled. She dropped her dagger to the floor—the dagger he gave her on their anniversary. Only then did he realize her own blood seeped from her arm, drenching her sleeve and dripping to the floor.

"Guy…" she said as she smiled, her voice already weakening. She tried to take a step towards him, but faltered. Guy ran to her, catching her in his arms before she fell to the floor.

He turned to his men, "Fetch the surgeon. Now!"