by EM Castellan
Armand opened his mouth to reply, but I caught his arm to stop him.
“I think we have everything we came for.”
I gave him a pointed look, and Armand took the hint. We would find a way to get our hands on that journal by other means. He handed the man another few coins, and we parted ways before this encounter could last any longer and attract attention.
When we emerged back onto the thoroughfare, rain fell heavily from the cloudy sky. We hurried in the April shower, water gushing down gutters and drains onto the pavement in large rivulets. The rain had emptied the streets, and the few passersby were too busy attempting to get themselves or their goods out of the downpour to notice us as we made our way back to my carriage, waiting for us a few streets away.
“We need to get that journal,” Armand said as I clung to his arm to circumnavigate a large puddle. “All the proof we need has to be in there. And we need to find out who else he’s been performing magic with.”
I nodded my assent, too out of breath to give a full reply. Despite my best effort, my borrowed clothes were drenched and my leather boots heavy with water by the time we reached the carriage. Armand slammed the door against the deluge, and the vehicle took off, its wheels and the horses’ hooves splashing their way along the near-empty street.
“There must be a way to find out which magiciens he’s been working with,” Armand said, following his train of thought.
“I can make a list of the court magiciens,” I replied, my teeth rattling. Violent shivers shook me in the enclosed space. I pulled a blanket over my legs, determined to fight off a fit while the carriage carried on through the muddy lanes at a slow pace.
“It’s the Paris ones I’m interested in.” Armand bit his lip, oblivious to my condition. “He wouldn’t cast curses and dark spells at court. He’s too clever for that.”
“We don’t know if he’s doing any of that,” I said. “We only have the word of a disgruntled footman to support our theories. And there are dozens of magiciens in Paris.”
My voice had weakened, and my breaths came out with a wheezing sound that alerted Armand at last.
“You’re all wet and pale! Are you all right?” He wrapped one arm around my shoulders and took my hand. His skin warmed my icy fingers, but a cough rattled through my chest. “Oh, darling, it’s all my fault! I shouldn’t have dragged you to that awful inn.”
The cold air still seared my lungs, but my coughing abated long enough for me to reply with a weak smile. “You give yourself way too much credit. Nothing is your fault. I wanted to interview that footman, and you didn’t drag me anywhere. So stop fretting.”
But there was no calming him, and he wouldn’t rest until he’d wrapped me whole in the blanket, and, once the carriage pulled into the stables at the back of the palace, it was all I could do to stop him from carrying me into my home. Thankfully, it was midafternoon, when most servants rested in their quarters and left the kitchens empty, and the few lingering in the downstairs rooms and courts only saw two silhouettes in soaked uniforms hurrying through the servants’ corridors.
“I’m all right.” I tried to disentangle myself from his grip and the blanket. “You can let go.” My protests would have been more convincing if another cough hadn’t interrupted me.
“You can’t even speak,” Armand replied. “I’m putting you to bed and that’s that.”
My blanket half hanging behind us, he kicked a door open with his knee and we spilled into the main hall, where Athénaïs stood speaking with my majordomo.
Athénaïs’s mouth dropped open. Armand stopped in his tracks. To his credit, he didn’t freeze but rather loosened his hold on me enough to allow me to pretend at some semblance of composure. Such efforts were in vain, however, because Athénaïs swooped on Armand like a hawk.
“What on earth have you been doing? Where have you been?”
She shrieked in his face with such uncharacteristic indignation and alarm that it occurred to me our little scheme might have impacted the people we cared about after all.
“I came here to visit Her Highness!” she went on before Armand or I could say a word. “And I’m told she’s supposed to be at my house! So I’m confused, because everyone knows Her Highness isn’t well enough to visit her friends at home or at court. But then”—she punctuated her tirade by slamming her pointed finger into Armand’s chest—“I’m told about you visiting her, about you spending all your time here, and now you’re here, soaked to the bone in some ridiculous disguise, and I can’t believe you’d be so stupid!”
She stopped, out of breath and tearful, and I couldn’t bring myself to be angry with her for her words or her absolute disregard for my presence in the hall. It was obvious her outburst was born of love and frenzy, and the only reason she was ignoring me was out of respect for my station, which prevented her from directing her outpour of feelings at me.
“Listen,” Armand started, “it’s not—”
“It’s not what I think it is?” she exploded again. “Is that what you’re going to say? You tell me you haven’t been spending all your time here, you haven’t been putting on disguises, and you haven’t been scheming?”
Armand shot me a helpless look. My legs still unsteady and my body wracked with shivers, I held on to him for support. Athénaïs’s reaction was warranted in many ways. We had been reckless, and it was lucky no catastrophe had occurred while we were out and no one else had caught us in the act. But my investigation into Lorraine’s actions and the vanishing spells was my priority, and Armand had proven to be the only one I could rely upon to carry it out. I considered Athénaïs a friend, yet I had spent very little time in her company these past few weeks, when she had been busy at court and in the Parisian salons, places that were now Lorraine’s dominion. I didn’t know if I could share my doubts and beliefs about him with her.
“Do you even realize how guilty you two look?” she added when none of us replied. “I understand having an affair, believe me, I do. But you must be clever about it. She’s a princess! She’s the king’s sister-in-law! Everybody adores her. Everybody’s constantly talking about her. You can’t behave that way and expect no one will notice!”
Again, she was shouting at Armand when it was clear all she wanted to do was scream at me. Armand opened his mouth to protest at the word affair, but I squeezed his arm to stop him. Better Athénaïs think we were in love than investigating Lorraine. It pained me not to trust her, but until I was sure she wasn’t under Lorraine’s thumb like everyone else, I would let her believe the most obvious reason for my behavior.
“Promise me you won’t say anything,” I said.
She turned to me for the first time, her gaze fierce and her hands on her hips. “Of course I won’t. I’m your friend, even if both of you seem to have taken leave of your senses.” She gazed at Armand. “But don’t ever make me part of your lies again!”
And on that last warning, she gave an angry curtsy and marched out of the palace. The majordomo, who’d spent the last few minutes uncomfortably looking into the distance, closed the door behind her and left, presumably to fetch more servants.
Armand stared at the closed door. When he spoke, disbelief tainted his words. “So everyone really does think we’re having an affair.”
I let out a sigh. “Well, if it keeps them from finding out we’re spying on Lorraine…”
I didn’t finish my sentence, exhaustion catching up with me at last. “Help me walk to my rooms,” I said instead. “I need to take off this dress before my maids arrive.”
He obeyed, and an unusual silence, punctuated by the dripping of our clothes onto the marble floor and my labored breathing, settled between us as we walked along the dim corridors. At last we reached the door to my antechamber. No guard stood there, as security in my own home was considered achieved with a few guards patrolling the palace and grounds.
“You should go now,” I said. “Let’s both think about how we can gain access to Lorraine’s journal and find out w
hich magiciens he works with. Then we can make a new plan.”
Armand nodded, still distracted. When he finally looked at me, concern clouded his features. “Will you be all right?”
I gave him a reassuring smile. “I will. I always am.”
He considered me for a heartbeat, his head tilted to the side in a more thoughtful manner than I was used to seeing in him. Then he kissed my hand. “Indeed you are, Madame.”
The clacking of his heels resonated under the high painted ceilings as he walked off, and his last reply resounded in my head. It was the first time he had called me by my title, and it had sounded as if he was trying to remind himself of who I was.
How peculiar.
CHAPTER VII
Overflowing trunks and boxes clogged my apartments like the scattered gems of a broken necklace. Filled with shimmering dresses and shining accessories, they glittered in the afternoon sunshine that poured in through the open windows. Fair weather had replaced the showers of the previous days, as if nature itself was getting ready for the king’s entertainment due to start the next day at Versailles.
My carriage was meant to leave the Tuileries Palace in a couple of hours, but most of my luggage still sat open in my rooms, with maids and footmen dashing about like worker bees in a hive. Sat at my dressing table with Mimi at my feet, I supervised the packing of my toiletries while one of the maids finished lacing up the corset of my satin afternoon dress.
All of a sudden the servants’ murmurs next door rose to words of greetings I could recognize, and I turned toward the open door as Philippe entered my bedchamber for the first time in two weeks.
“Henriette!” He pointed behind him. “Please tell me the chaos I just walked through is about to disappear and you’re ready to go.” He closed the distance between us in a couple of long strides and kissed me on the cheek like I were some distant cousin.
I frowned at him and dismissed my maid with a nod. She slipped away with my box of toiletries under one arm and Mimi under the other. The door closed behind her, leaving us alone.
Oblivious to her exit, Philippe grabbed an abandoned ribbon off my dressing table and stood in front of the open window, the shimmer of his magically enhanced yellow-and-green outfit reflecting the sunlight. For a moment he twirled the ribbon around his fingers, his stance relaxed and his gaze on the gardens below. I didn’t speak, waiting to see how—and if—he would acknowledge the fact he had deserted me for a fortnight to spend his time with a courtier.
“Your doctors assured me you were better,” he said at last, his attention still outside. “I was glad to hear it, because you know Louis, he has planned a hundred and one ways to keep us busy at his party, and he’ll make a fuss if you’re not there.”
I rested my elbows on the dressing table and my chin in my hands, and didn’t reply. If he wanted to pretend nothing was wrong between us, I wouldn’t enable him. I deserved better than being treated like a mere acquaintance he could afford to ignore then run back to whenever the whim took him.
“I heard there’ll be a parade tomorrow,” he went on, as if unperturbed by my silence. “Or something equally ridiculous. And a banquet, of course. Then I think there are races scheduled, and all sorts of magical nonsense. Poor Molière has to perform no fewer than four plays in a week. And I’m guessing a ballet is planned as well, Louis simply can’t resist dancing in front of an audience. But being the center of attention is the whole point of these shenanigans, isn’t it?”
A hint of bitterness tinted his words, and I caught a glimpse of the husband who had confided in me and allowed me into his life last summer. The thought would have brought a smile to my lips if it hadn’t been marred by the fact Philippe had withdrawn from me again since then.
At last he turned to meet my gaze. “You’re quiet.”
I bit back a sarcastic reply. I didn’t want us to argue, and antagonizing him would lead us nowhere. So instead, I released a sigh.
“Why are you here, Philippe?”
Several emotions crossed his features in quick succession. Confusion, amusement, and then something like embarrassment.
“Why do you think I’m here?” he said in a gentle tone. “I’m here to take you to Versailles for my brother’s party. I’m here to make sure you’re ready and you have everything you need. I’m here to check you’re actually well enough to attend said party.”
I held his gaze, so he carried on, his tone turning mocking.
“Are these good enough reasons for you? What do you want me to tell you?”
The fact that he chose to hide behind sarcasm when we were alone, with nothing to prevent an honest conversation, awakened my temper.
“The truth would be a good place to start,” I replied, my tone colder than I intended.
He raised an ironic eyebrow. “The truth?”
His casual attitude turned my temper to ice. “Yes, the truth. You’re here because the Chevalier de Lorraine has already departed for Versailles with the king. You’re here because you know you’re supposed to attend the party with me and people will notice if you don’t. You’re here because Louis or your mother or both spoke to you, and you gave in to their demand.”
I hadn’t meant to say all this. I wasn’t even certain the last part was true. But once I started talking, all the loneliness and sadness of the past two weeks bubbled up inside me like water coming to a boil and spilled out in a torrent of unkind words I couldn’t seem to stop.
Philippe gasped. He moved toward me, but I stood up and slipped out of his reach before his outstretched hand could make contact with my arm.
“Henriette, whatever you’ve heard—”
“Please don’t lie to me,” I interrupted. “Months ago you promised me honesty. You owe me that much today.”
He closed his mouth and hesitated. It was that pause, that moment of uncertainty when his reply should have been clear and resonant, that drove me to keep speaking.
“I’ve been really unwell, Philippe. And you just left me. You promised to love me, to look after me, and when I needed you the most, you simply disappeared. And I’m supposed to pretend everything is fine when you decide to return?”
I didn’t raise my voice, but my words hit their mark nonetheless. Philippe paled and tightened his jaw. His posture grew rigid, and just like anytime he was hurt, he bit back.
“Jealousy doesn’t become you, you know.”
“Of course, I’m jealous,” I said, keeping my tone as even as I could in my resolve to handle this like an adult. “We’ve been through a lot together, and I obviously don’t enjoy seeing you attracted to a complete stranger. But I’m not talking about him. I’m talking about you and me. I’m talking about how you expect me to always be there for you, when you’re too selfish to be there for me when I need you the most.”
“Selfish,” he spat, anger and pain flashing through his features at last. “Is that what I am to you too, then? I thought you knew me better than that!”
I took a step back, my certainty wavering in the face of his reaction. I knew he was good at playing a part, at pretending to be a narcissistic, superficial, and cynic man no one should feel threatened by. He had acted that part for four months at the beginning of our marriage to shield himself from heartache and to protect me in the process. But we had moved past this, or so I had thought.
“What are you saying?” I snapped back.
“You want the truth?” he said, closing the gap between us to loom over me. “You think I’m selfish? I’m worse than that, my love. I’m a coward. I see you ill, I see you bedridden, and I can’t stand it. I know I’m supposed to protect you, I’m supposed to help you, and I can’t, so I just run away.” He threw his arms up and gave a mirthless smile. “I leave you to your fate, and I run to the first person willing to give me a little bit of affection, and I seek as much distraction as I can to try to forget the fact that the person I love the most in this world has an incurable sickness and that I’ll eventually lose her.”
I blinke
d, too shocked to reply. Hot tears ran down my cheeks, and I made no motion to wipe them, instead staring at Philippe as he carried on, seemingly unable to stop from talking now either.
“And guess the worst part. When I hear you’ve recovered, I come back, hoping I can placate you with a few lies and you’ll forgive me for abandoning you. And because I’m a rascal, I get angry when you don’t!”
So much self-loathing and hurt laced his words, I couldn’t stand it. I pressed my hands to my ears, tears still streaming down my face. Sobs built up in my chest, strangling my breaths so that my voice came out hoarse.
“Stop it! Stop shouting, and stop saying such horrid things!”
“Why?” he retorted. “You wanted the truth. Maybe it’s time you face the fact that I’m not a good person. Armand figured it out a while ago. I don’t deserve either of you, and you need to stop pretending otherwise.”
His eyes brimmed with tears, too, and I knew exactly what he was doing. He was pushing me away, waiting for me to lash out at him and confirm his self-destructive notions. The mere thought crushed my chest under a heavy weight. We’d made so much progress in the last few months, and for a moment, I had deluded myself into believing we were happy. But it was all coming crashing down, and it struck me that I had a choice to make.
A cough shook my entire frame, a reminder of how fragile my health was. I loved Philippe, but maybe it was time to be the selfish one in our relationship. It was now clear I couldn’t fight for him, my health, my magic, and my status at the same time. I had thought that unmasking Lorraine’s dark intents would bring Philippe back to me. But today’s scene was proof our marriage had deeper issues than that. So I could either try to convince him of the worth of our relationship, or I could put myself first for once and see whether he could find his way back to me on his own.
