![]() ![]() Diana had been a good friend, someone she could count on in a crisis. ![]() Gabrielle would miss her brash speech and her unfailing loyalty. Give Cressy a pair of shears and she'd have Gabrielle's hair cleverly styled in mere moments. Of course, she'd bemoan the artless way in which the hair had been hacked off by the prison guard, but Mrs. Her stomach roiled and she closed her eyes and tried to think of happier times. She clenched her hands on the cart's rough rail and tried to think of something else-something other than blood and death and the swish the blade made when it fell in the Place Louis XV, now the laughably named Place de la Révolution. Would she feel the blade of the guillotine, or would death come fast and sweet as promised? The loose, uneven strands brushed the skin on her neck like long, pointed fingernails. ![]() Her head felt oddly light, deprived as it was of her thick, heavy mane of unruly brown hair. Gabrielle stood on the swaying tumbrel, the breeze tickling the nape of her neck. ![]()
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