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Admittedly, Combeferre had quite a bit on his mind as when he arrived on Sybil’s doorstep for a comfortable evening that had become delightfully routine. Short on the heels of Pontmercy's unexpected arrival in Darrow had come Courfeyrac, and though he was overjoyed and relieved to have both friends here, they brought news that weighted heavy.

So they had failed at the barricades, that was certain. And, if Courfeyrac account was correct, they had been abandoned, betrayed by the dozens of minor acts of cowardice as men who had sworn loyalty hid behind closed doors once the fighting started. In the week since Courfeyrac had come to Darrow, Combeferre had awoken each morning with this knowledge twisting his stomach anew.

But how could he share such a fate with the woman he loved? No, that he would have to keep to himself.

Taking a breath and pulling a smile onto his lips - he was glad for the comforting evening ahead - he shifted the bottle of wine in his hand and knocked on Sybil’s door.

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Henri Combeferre

March 2017

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