’ Hilary stared at him. Go in, go in, Melusine prayed, hoping desperately that he would not change his mind and take another route. ‘French? But what else?’ ‘I do not like Frenchmen,’ Melusine snapped. “Yes,” she answered, looking away. The knight and his followers crossed the threshold, leaving one of the torch-bearers behind them. ‘Seems to me like you know just about as much as me. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo.
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