At the back of her mind, Melusine noted an odd look in the boy’s face, but there was no time to explore it. I could tell it was Italian, you see. ‘Her name is Melusine Charvill,’ Gerald began. She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection. The moisture from the sea was constant, and she spent countless hours staring at the sea from the west tower, the rise and fall of waves. The girl was pretty, and apparently a lady. “Exceptionally so. . He was more like a man who had left his bed in the middle of convalescence.
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