Monday: Had he only planted his fist in the young knight’s face a few seconds earlier, Andreu’s mouth would have been too swollen to speak his slur and Crespin’s last memory of Emilie would not have been of the tears streaming down her whitened cheeks as she’d shoved her way blindly past him.
Tuesday: She had not lost her temper then, even in her heartbreak, and she would not indulge it now, as sorely as she must wish to.
Wednesday: (No new sentence, but lots of fruitless research)
Thursday: Emilie nodded, a smile softening the slight stiffness Crespin had observed in her face as she conversed with Sir Jaques.
Friday: "She took to trimming the hems of all her gowns in cloth of gold, so that the Byzantines called her chrysopous: golden foot.”
Saturday: He had never seen so tender a light in his foster father’s eyes, not even when they had rested on his late, beloved wife.