As the crack of her
blow to the Peacock Angel's face echoes away to a deathly silence,
Fiona realises they are not alone. All around the library are
courtiers, all frozen in horror at what they've just witnessed, all
staring at her. She looks at them, looking at her, their eyes not
daring to flick towards the Angel. She sees the terror in those eyes
as the tension in the room thickens and congeals like ageing gravy...
...Only to be washed
away by the roaring laughter of the Angel himself, bent double in
mirth.
“Well now, my dear,”
he says, “I suppose I should have expected that. You have, how is
it that you put it? Oh yes, you have a mean right hook.”
