As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. “You must not think of me as one. I do not choose the vicomte, for that would be foolish. ” She thanked him with a look and rose to her feet. They took their places at a distant table. Tombs were desecrated, beautiful statues toppled, and the colorful shops that she had been enchanted by along the canal had been closed or burned. I am bothered. ” She peered at him through the semi-blackness.
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