’ Melusine’s heart leapt, and as swiftly clattered into dead stillness as the implication of the second name hit home. She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. It was Blueskin. It was the first expression of the mother's blood. The crowning aspect of the incident, for her mind, was the discovery that he and her indiscretion with him no longer mattered very much. I didn’t allow myself to see things as they were in those days; now I do.
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