“Do you normally find blood so fascinating?” Adrienne finally barked irritably. “Or am I special?”

“Rather clever of you to hide out here until we'd departed,” Constable Roubet told her casually, flintlock aimed unerringly at her bloody cleavage. “A pity you didn't notice me, or it might've worked.”

“I was distracted,” she muttered, shooting an aggravated glower toward the statue. “But look at me, Constable. You can't honestly believe me capable of this, can you?” She pressed her right hand to her heart-more than a bit melodramatically-and blinked at him. “I only survived by hiding in the rafters. I can only thank the gods that the killers weren't as observant as you were, or else-”

“Shut up before I shoot you.”

Adrienne's jaws snapped shut with an audible click.

“Even if I believed a word of it,” the Guardsman told her, shaking his head, “it makes no difference. I'm not the man making the decisions here.”

The young woman nodded slowly. “I think I'd like to speak to an advocate just as soon as possible.”

Roubet smiled grimly. “I'm sure you would. If you hadn't tried to kill me during your escape, you might have lived long enough to do just that.”

“What are you talking…?” And then she understood, and her knees threatened to give way. “You're not a Guardsman,” she whispered hoarsely.

“I am, actually. But I'm also a great deal more.”

Frantically, she judged the distance between them. Twelve feet, give or take. She could cover that swiftly enough, but not so fast that he couldn't pull the trigger. And even if she reached him, she wasn't armed.