Jeanne: Shame

It occurred to him now, after Jason's short, cold sentences, how shamefully he had behaved. The girl was provoking, to be sure, but arguing with a woman was no manly pastime. He looked back to where they had been, at the flickering light in the atrium, but the thin film of mizzle obscured the details from sight and he could no longer see the woman; perhaps she had gone back to the kitchens with that imp of a lad, whom Druce had forgotten till now. He remembered, and with the remembrance came the recollection of the accusation leveled at the woman.

Spy. Again he looked back over his shoulder; was she a spy, with all her firmly voiced loyalty to the Lord Ambrosius? She wears a fine mask, he thought grimly, if spy she is.

Thunder tumbled over the pasture and a scattering of raindrops hit Druce in the face. He put his bound hand out from under the cover of his cloak and observed it carefully, not moving to obey Jason's order. Presently he said, "I daresay you're angry with me."

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