I smiled in gratitude, and when I did, she reached out, cupped my chin, and turned my head gently to examine where the assassin’s dagger had grazed my cheek. She leaned in. I could smell the sweet scent of her dusting powder. “You’ve been wounded, monsieur.” Sally spoke sharply. “I’ll handle that.” Colette stepped back, looking like she’d been caught reaching for the mistress’s biscuits.
