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shook hands.
    “François and I have told Élise what lies in store for her,” said my mother.
    Mr. Weatherall’s eyes slid from my father’s face to mine and he nodded before bowing deeply again, extending his palm to kiss the back of my hand, as though I were a princess.
    “And how does that make you feel, young Élise, knowing that one day you will lead the Templars?”
    “Very grand, monsieur,” I said.
    “I’ll bet it does,” he said.
    “François has correctly guessed that Élise has been receiving a little training,” said Mother.
    Mr. Weatherall turned his attention back to Father. “Of course,” he said, “and I trust my tutelage has not given the Grand Master offense?”
    “As I explained last night, I trust my wife implicitly concerning such matters. I know that with you, Freddie, they are in good hands.”
    Just then Olivier approached, maintaining a distance until he was ushered forward to whisper in his master’s ear. Father nodded and addressed Mother.
    “I must take my leave, my dear,” said Father. “Our ‘friends’ are here to visit.”
    The Crows, of course. They had returned for a morning of shouting. And it was funny how knowing what I did cast my father in a new light. He wasn’t just my father anymore. Not just my mother’s husband. But a busy man. A man of responsibility, whose attention was constantly required. A man whose decisions changed lives. The Crows were entering as we left, politely greeting Mother and Mr. Weatherall, crowding into the reception hall, which was suddenly very busy and alive with more talk of avenging yesterdays’ attack, seeing to it that Jean had not died in vain.
    Eventually we stepped outside, the three of us, and walked for some way before Mr. Weatherall spoke. “So, Élise, how do you
really
feel knowing your destiny?” asked Mr. Weatherall.
    “As I said with Father,” I told him.
    “Not a little apprehensive, then, petal? All that responsibility to come?”
    “Mr. Weatherall feels you too young to know your destiny,” explained Mother.
    “Not at all. I look forward to finding what the future holds, monsieur,” I replied.
    He nodded, as if that was good enough for him.
    “And I like that I get to do more sword fighting, monsieur,” I added. “With no secrecy now.”
    “Exactly! We shall work on your
riposte
and your
envelopment
and you may show off your skills to your father. I think he’ll be surprised, Élise, what an accomplished swordswoman you already are. Perhaps one day you shall be a better swordsman and than either your mother or your father.”
    “Oh, I doubt that, monsieur.”
    “Freddie, please don’t put strange ideas into the girl’s head.” Mother nudged me and whispered, “Though I think he may be right, Élise, just between you and me.”
    Mr. Weatherall became serious. “Now. Are we going to talk about what went on yesterday?”
    “An attempt on our lives, Freddie . . .”
    “I only wish I had been there . . .”
    “No matter that you were not, Freddie, we remain unharmed and barely even traumatized by the incident. Élise acquitted herself perfectly, and . . .”
    “You were the lioness protecting her young, eh?”
    “I did what I had to do. It is a matter of regret that one of the men escaped.”
    Mr. Weatherall stopped. “
One
of the men? What? There was
more
than one?”
    She gave him meaningful eyes. “Oh yes. There was another man, the more dangerous of the two. He used a hidden blade.”
    His mouth formed an O. “So it really was the work of Assassins?”
    “I have my doubts.”
    “Oh yeah? Why?”
    “He ran, Freddie. Have you ever known an Assassin to run?”
    “They are merely human and you are a formidable opponent. I think I should have been tempted to run myself in his shoes. You’re a right devil with that boot knife.” He glanced back at me with a wink.
    Mother glowed. “You may be assured your flattery does not go unappreciated, Freddie. But this man, there was something