SAMPLE 1. The marquise de Langeac cursed in what could best be described as a most unladylike fashion as she dabbed the nib of the quill in the inkwell. Rapidly, she finished penning the letter to Milord Compton, complaining tactfullyshe really had tried to use more tact this timeabout the lack of trust he was placing in her ability as an agent of the crown.

He quite simply refused to send her on any but the most mundane of missions, which left her in a most restless state, stuck at the palace in Paris after numerous little innocuous missions. Hard to believe shed only returned to Paris a fortnight earlier. Still, despite Anne and Constances efforts, she was, quite frankly, lousy at playing the political-courtier game and hated being hunted as a marital mark, whether it be for her title, her lands, her wealth, or some combination of the aforementioned attributes. . . .


SAMPLE 2. . . . Aramis frowned. . . . Laurel. He should have known that Laurel would never send a messenger, not if she really wanted to get in touch with him. Brusquely, he nodded and escorted her to a room where they would be out of sight of the servants so he could speak with her. I understand there is a matter of some urgency that you needed to talk me about, he said, without a noticeable change of inflection.

Dont be so pompous and condescending, Aramis, she retorted and stalled his rebuttal. There was no time for another argument between them. The matter is of international importance. If it is not resolved, France could become embroiled in another devastating, drawn-out war, and it could prompt an internal revolt. . . . The Prussians have kidnapped Anne dAutriche.


SAMPLE 3. The woman shook her head. I will slow you down too much. Youve got to find Laurel, Athos, and Porthos. Go on ahead. Bring them back here. Please. Please, she pleaded.

And how will you defend yourself? Aramis pressed.

The woman shifted and pulled the pistol from her waistband. She cocked and primed it.

I am still well enough to shoot, she replied.

Aramis grabbed his sword and stood. Porthos sister was far more courageous and self-sufficient than he ever would have suspected. Ill be back as quickly as I can. Try to stay out of sight.

The musketeer dashed off down the corridor, Yvette watching, holding tight to the gun as if it were her lifeline. God, please, let Aramis come back soon. She was not brave enough for this. Already shock was setting in, and she felt ready to burst into tears. She would have called Aramis back, but he was already gone. . . .


SAMPLE 4. Aramis pushed the door open with his shoulder and entered the threshold. Greetings, Mademoiselle Laurel, he said and unsheathed her sword, tossing it to her without ceremony. She caught it deftly in her left hand and raced for the open door. Just a suggestion. Try the right-handed approach first, then switch to your left hand. It will give you a greater element of surprise. The marquise nodded, switched hands, and stepped over the bodies and into the hallway. . . .


SAMPLE 5. All day. All day itd been raining. Slow, steady, like the sky was crying and would never cease its mourning. The constant, methodic patter of the droplets against the roof was almost unnoticeable to Friedrich now, except that the infernal rain had abruptly put an end to his plans to travel to see the prince, Frederick William. . . .


SAMPLE 6. The silence grew as Laurel and Porthos stared at each other, neither giving even the slightest. Finally, Athos boots crunched upon the deadened leaves, and he stopped beside his two companions. He put his arm between them and made to pull them apart. We can continue this later. You are still too weak after your fall, Laurel, and your color doesnt look very good either.

Non, Porthos firmly pushed Athos arm away, I would hear what Laurel thinks she knows. . . .


SAMPLE 7. The talking swirled about him, sometimes nothing more than gibberish, sometimes a word or phrase he could decipher. It eddied up and down, from loud to quiet.

Wisely, DArtagnan kept silent as he went about the tasks the housekeeper had assigned him for the morning, some of the least desirable tasks involving a great deal of scrubbing and moving of heavy objects. He was under no illusions about how much he was disliked simply for being French and for what was viewed as outright impertinence. But there would be no more of that, not after Athos little talkmore like scolding. DArtagnan had been ordered to pretend to be obedient and do exactly as was requested of him and to do the job even better than was requested. . . .

SAMPLE 8. Are we still of a mind to do this thing? Athos asked his companions, his voice scarcely expressing the seriousness of the situation.

Danger was terribly real. Impossible to ignore, and the outcome could be decidedly dire. After a brief moment, Porthos and Yvette both nodded. Athos was relieved Porthos put up no argument with regard to his sister this time. He could not have handled that at the moment. Plus, he may well have found himself very tempted to agree with Porthos in trying to protect Yvette from further danger.

Porthos, you are sure you know where a secret entrance to the castle is?

Athos, are you seriously doubting the great Porthos word?

Non, but I am seriously considering reaching down his throat and tearing out his tonsils with my bare hands if he does not answer the question promptly, Athos informed his friend with a complete lack of levity. . . .

SAMPLE 9. The man remained crouching completely concealed behind the trees, unmoving, waiting with patience until the musketeers and their injured companion had disappeared. . . .