to the point of starvation on his whisper did not seem to trouble René in the slightest. Eve had overheard him several times passing names to German officers over the dinner brandy: people who displeased him, who hoarded requisitioned supplies, who spoke out against the invaders. But to hear the suggestion tossed out as casually as this . . . She studied his expression wonderingly. It really did not stir his conscience at all.
“Are you really still so shy, my pet?” He tilted his head. “Too shy to let people know you are now mine?”
“I just don’t want b-bread with piss in it,” Eve whispered, as if in an agony of embarrassment. Really, it was horror.
René looked as though hovering between a chuckle or a frown at her honesty. To Eve’s relief, he decided on a chuckle. “Eventually, Marguerite, I’ll teach you to be indifferent to what people think. It’s very freeing, to care for no one’s opinion but your own.” He looked urbane even when naked, his flesh pale and smooth against the linens. “Limoges soon—I’ll take you with me. You may concoct some story for the staff about an aunt taken ill, if you wish. I shall be publicly displeased with you.”
“Thank you, monsieur.” But Eve had no intention of going with him to Limoges. In two more days, if all went well, the kaiser would be dead and the world would be remade.
It will not be that easy, she told herself. Wars were vast machines; they didn’t grind to an instant halt when one man died, even if that man was a king. But even if the war didn’t end, the world would still be a vastly different place. In that world, René Bordelon would surely be taking rapid stock of his allies and enemies, not taking leisurely weekends in Limoges.
The days before the kaiser’s arrival passed at the speed of a glacier, and the nights in René’s immaculate bed moved even more slowly, even if she did learn some intriguing facts and figures about the local airfields that Uncle Edward would find very interesting. At last The Day dawned, hot and sticky even in the early hours, and the fleurs du mal met in silence. Eve saw the same expression in Lili’s darting eyes and Violette’s wary ones: a hope so violent it had to be stamped down like a hydra. They hurried out of the city without speaking, making for the grassy hills. “We should not be going to watch that train,” Violette said.
“Tais-toi,” Lili said. “I for one will go mad if I have to sit inside listening for aeroplanes overhead. Besides, I can’t make my report to Uncle Edward until I have results, so there’s no use going back to my usual rounds.”
“A bad idea,” Violette muttered, but none of them went back. They made their way past the local farmhouses, small and ravaged, and the three women took their place on a long low hill overlooking the distant train tracks. The same hill where Lili and Eve had scouted terrain for the attack. Violette chewed a strand of grass in terse silence; Eve flexed and unflexed her fingers. Lili chattered as though she was at a party: “I bought the most ghastly hat on my last trip through Tournai. Blue satin roses and spotted net; I left it on the train and it’s probably still there. No self-respecting streetwalker would steal that blue satin pile of—”
“Lili,” Eve said, “shut up.”
“Thank you,” said Violette, speaking for the first time in two hours. They stared down at the train tracks as if concentration alone could make them ignite. The sun climbed higher.
Lili’s eyes proved sharpest. “Is that . . .”
A tiny smear of smoke. A train.
It chugged sedately into view, too far away to hear its clacking wheels or the peals of steam from its engine. Too far away to make out details . . . But according to Eve’s information, this was it. The train that carried Kaiser Wilhelm in anonymity toward the front.
Eve looked up. The blue skies stretched empty.
Lili’s small hand covered hers in the grass, gripping tight. “Nique ta mere,” she said, eyes following Eve’s skyward. “You RFC buggers . . .”
The train inched closer. Lili’s grip was like a vise. Eve reached for Violette’s hand on the other side and squeezed that just as hard. Violette squeezed back.
When Eve heard the low drone of aeroplanes, she thought her heart would stop. For a moment it was just a buzz,