A delicate flush of colour streamed into her cheeks. Rhea laughed and lunged for the broadsword that Sebastian had carelessly left lying on the ground. . Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. She looked around the apartment for other people. There were swift actions, too: a Kanaka crawled out upon the bowsprit to make taut a slack stay, while two others with pulley-blocks swarmed aloft. That night, she hunted the alleyways of the old town. It was perfectly legitimate. ‘He isn’t Valade, and the Comtesse de St Erme is absolutely furious. "What I said about natural children doesn't apply to you.
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