La Vengeance Est Un Plat Qui Se Mange Froid

She approaches the death chamber, though most call it a library. Only she knows any different for now. In the dark a blade gleams, slipping out of her coat for an instant. It doesn't matter by now, she's already gotten in and is almost there. She sees his face and imagines him pleading. It's just enough to power her to the door, where she listens and waits.1

After about ten minutes, the butler whisks through the hall, just having served an evening meal. She takes her chance and dashes in.2

There they sit, the five men she most despises. The fat one nearly chokes in surprise.3

"Madame, what brings you to our little gathering?" That little French accent of his fails to disguise the fact that he already knows.4

Her poisonous glance is enough to shut him up for now. "You know full well why I have come. Remember what they say: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."5

The tall one snorts with derision. "Perhaps, but this can be settled in a more pleasant manner. What is it that you most desire? Money? Fame? I can probably even get our mutual friend to marry you."6

But he, the one who has betrayed her, is already weeping and trying to avert his gaze. 7

One of the men, who is completely bald, looks around with a chuckle. "Mon cherie, you are greatly outnumbered and, might I add, outmanned." His foolish laughter grows much louder.8

Without so much as a blink, she flicks her wrist and a very small dagger embeds itself in his bobbing throat. He dies before he can even look surprised. The last man in the group, the one who always manages to look distinguished in any situation, rises while drawing his pistol.9

"Don't bother with the gun," she murmurs, "you don't have the heart to shoot a lady."10

A gleam of satisfaction enters the man's eye. "This gun is not for you. I will kill your lover first. He never cooperated with us anyway."11

She lunges, drawing her sword, but not before he squeezes off a shot. A roar which is close to a scream escapes her throat as she plunges the sword into Monsieur Renaud's chest. No longer will he own any castles, she thinks quickly. The tall man begins to run away but she catches him; catches him and nearly decapitates him. It was true, as she had said her fury knows no bounds.12

Meanwhile, the bullet has found its target. He gasps in pain and shock as it rips into the flesh in his upper chest. Falling to the floor, he gasps her name. Spent, she walks as quickly as she can to his side.13

"Is it true, what Renaud said?" She begins to join his tears. "You never told then anything?"14

"Yes," he gasps, "I would never betray you, in fact I have been a hostage these past six months. I love you, Amarante, I-"15

"Shh, Celestin, I know."16

Their lips fuse in a final kiss as his life fades before her helpless eyes. He is gone and she is left grieving.17

"I never meant for this to happen," she whispers, running her fingers through his hair, "I still love the way you were."18