by EM Castellan
If the atmosphere inside the building was as stifling as outside, I appreciated the shade it provided. We climbed up another flight of stairs to access the gilded reception rooms, and followed a gallery toward the back of the building, which ended in an octagonal room. All the windows had been flung open, allowing access to a balcony that stretched around the building like a ribbon. Animal paintings covered the walls of the room, and strange noises reached us from outside. Realization prompted a gasp from my lips.
“It’s a menagerie!”
I let go of Philippe and rushed onto the balcony. Sure enough, the land outside was divided into seven enclosures, where all manners of animals ambled around fountains and lavish green plants.
“I suppose that’s not something you see every day.” Philippe joined me, a glass of water in hand. “Now I see why Louis sent all of us here without a word of explanation.”
I drained the proffered glass, the cool water a welcome respite from the unrelenting heat.
“Thank you,” I said. “I needed that.”
Philippe appraised me with a slight frown. “Don’t take this the wrong way, my love, but I’m actually surprised you’re not coughing right now.”
The heat and dust didn’t help my fragile lungs, but he was right: when any change in the weather or type of exertion used to spark a coughing fit, it had been three days since my last episode. There was no explanation for it, except the one provided by Armand that I still found too distressful to believe: that a spell cast by Lorraine was the cause of the worsening of my illness and that he had been too busy lately to renew his curse, which was therefore fading.
Casting aside those unsettling thoughts, I grinned at Philippe and turned to the enclosures below. “I’m just too excited to be unwell. Look at that! There’s an elephant.”
“Are Their Highnesses enjoying their visit?”
Charles Perrault, cheeks red from the heat and leaflet in hand, joined us on the balcony with a polite bow.
“Very much so,” I said. “Do you know what all these animals are?”
“I don’t.” He held up his leaflet. “But I brought a script, and Your Highness will have to indulge me and pretend I’m not reading from this program.” He proceeded to point out camels, crocodiles, a lion, and all sorts of extraordinary birds. “This is a pelican. And this one is an ibis.”
“I believe I know this one.” Philippe pointed at another bird. “Isn’t it an ostrich?”
“It is,” Monsieur Perrault nodded. “It comes from Africa and weighs twice the weight of a man.”
“It can’t fly,” Philippe said to me. “I read it in a book.”
“And,” Monsieur Perrault added, “when pursued by a predator, it is rumored to bury its head in the sand and thus to believe itself to be unseen.”
Philippe snorted. “A flightless bird that refuses to face its problems? Sounds like me.”
Unsure how to react, Monsieur Perrault offered a tentative smile and made his excuses.
I gave Philippe a light slap on the arm. “You scared the poor man away. He’s very knowledgeable, you know. He was giving us interesting information.”
Philippe shrugged, his good mood evaporated. “It’s too hot, and I’m bored now. You enjoy and let me know when you’re ready to go back to the palace.”
He moved away from me, but I gripped his arm before he could leave the balcony. We hadn’t argued, and yet he scowled as if I had just upset him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” He pasted a smile on his face, which I knew was false. “I don’t want to ruin your day.”
I clung tighter to his arm. “Just tell me.”
“It’s just—” He released a sigh and gestured at the enclosures. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? This place. Rare animals kept behind high walls and iron railings. Don’t you find it the perfect metaphor?”
And his meaning struck me. “They’re like us. That’s what you mean.”
He waved his hands in the air like a magicien who had just performed a great spell. “Ta-da! Whether it’s a rich aristocrat or a wild bird, it doesn’t matter. If my brother wants it, he’ll have it. Then he puts it in a fancy cage and distracts it from escaping with magic tricks and good food. And nobody can stop him.”
I glanced around to check whether anyone was within earshot, but all the guests were some distance away, their focus on the animals below. My spirits dampened by Philippe’s reaction, I guided him back inside.
“You’re right,” I told him in a low voice. “I’m not sure I like this place after all. Let’s go back to the palace.”
“And now I’ve ruined your day,” Philippe replied. “I’m sorry.”
We walked back through the gallery and the reception rooms, navigating the courtiers mingling there. Then we went down the staircase. Philippe’s observation replayed in my mind, its accuracy more striking with every step.
Since the beginning of the week, every activity provided by the king had been to lure, enchant and trap his court at Versailles. I wagered everyone would leave in two days wishing they could have stayed longer—or forever. Louis’s plans to control everyone around him were at play here, and even I had overlooked it for a moment.
“You didn’t ruin my day,” I said to Philippe as we emerged into the sundrenched courtyard. “I just don’t like to see you upset.”
He kissed the top of my head. “You’re too sweet for your own good, my love.”
We left the menagerie through the gate, and walked along the dusty road toward our carriage in the line of vehicles.
“What would you like to do?” I asked. “If you could do anything right now, what would it be?”
I caught his gaze, determined to wipe the melancholy from his features. He pondered my question, as dust rose around our ankles and birdsong came down from the trees. The smell of dry grass and horse manure saturated the hot air.
“I don’t know,” he said at last. “What would you like to do?”
I grinned at him. The magic lake created by Louis still sat in the middle of the park, its presence taunting me for the past two days.
“I want to go swimming.”
CHAPTER XI
I drifted on the cool water, my white shift billowing around my body.
A blanket of sparkles gleamed on the surface of the lake, enclosed by trees soaked in afternoon sunshine. Birds fleeted between the branches, their calls echoing in the quiet park. Bees buzzed among colorful flowers, whose soft scents wafted through the hot air. Like a slumbering giant brought down by an excess of heat and revelry, Versailles drowsed under a clear blue sky.
“What are you doing?”
The high-pitched voice came from the shore and cut through the peace of the moment.
“What does it look like we’re doing?” Philippe muttered. He circled me at a slow breaststroke, his long dark hair pooled around his shoulders.
I blinked at the two small silhouettes on the bankside. “Who is that?”
“Elisabeth and Françoise, by the sound of it.”
“You two are mad!” One of the girls shouted. “What about the whales?”
I let out a laugh and nearly swallowed water. The lake had a dark green tinge to it, and its depths were invisible. The enchanted island in its middle was gone, and if the remains of Alcine’s palace or her fantastical creatures lay at the bottom of the waters, we had yet to encounter them.
Another question traveled through the distance. “What’s the water like?”
I gave up on my floating endeavors and resumed an upright position. “It’s nice and cool! Come!”
Giggles on the shoreline. Then two splashes and much squealing. Louis’s teenage cousins swam to meet us at the center of the lake.
“You lied!” Françoise shrieked. “It’s cold!”
“Stop shouting!” her sister replied. “You’ll attract the whales!”
Their cream-colored shifts and long hair plastered against their skin, they swam in a complicated flailin
g of limbs that involved a lot of splashing water in each other’s faces.
“Can you two even swim?” Philippe asked.
“Of course, we can!” Françoise said.
“We learned in the pond at Saint-Germain-en-Laye,” Elisabeth added, slightly out of breath.
“That’s reassuring,” Philippe mumbled.
The noise now attracted other onlookers, courtiers who had found refuge in the park in search of fresh air or privacy. Elisabeth waved at them.
“Join us! It’s very cool, and there are no monsters!”
“Is this allowed?” a gentleman in a tasteful brown and green outfit asked.
“No one said it wasn’t!” Françoise replied.
A group was forming on the bankside, where some discussion took place before common ground was reached and people peeled off their layers of clothes. Elisabeth let out a gleeful laugh. Soon the courtiers made their way into the water, some more gingerly than others. The majority remained near the shore, but a few more daring ones joined us in the middle of the lake. They startled at Philippe’s and my presence in the group.
“Your Highnesses.” The courtier formerly dressed in brown and green attempted a bow in the water. “I didn’t recognize you from the shore.”
“I blame my wife,” Philippe said with an ironic smile. “She’s English.”
I failed to see how this was any explanation, but Françoise added at once for the gentleman’s benefit:
“Our governess was English. She taught us to swim in the pond at Saint-Germain-en-Laye.”
“She also taught us embroidery,” Elisabeth said.
Philippe grabbed my hand and gave me a pointed look. While the girls and the courtiers chatted and paddled in the water, we drew away from them.
After a few breaststrokes, Philippe stopped and took hold of my waist. I used my legs to keep me afloat and wrapped my arms around his neck. A half smile tugged at his lips.
“There,” he said. “Much better.”
Our noses were a handspan apart, flecks of sunshine reflecting in his brown eyes. The noise of conversation and splashing water became a droning sound in the distance. The sky and the water engulfed us like a protective bubble.
Once, in another life, we had been together like this in another lake, at another royal estate. It was dark, and Philippe had kissed me, and it had been perfect. But that was a year ago. Today the relentless sun beat on the waters, the lake was a temporary spell cast by a king, and Philippe gazed at me with melancholy in his eyes.
“Do you still love me?” I asked, the question escaping my lips before I could stop it.
“I do,” he said without a hint of hesitation. “I’ll always love you.”
A pause. Flying insects alighted on the water for a second, then flew off or disappeared into the depths. I traced the faultless shape of Philippe’s mouth with the tip of my finger. Other questions nudged me forward, and I was so close to the edge that I might as well take one more step.
“But you love Lorraine too,” I said.
It wasn’t an accusation or a reproach. Just a fact. Philippe lowered his gaze for an instant. I dropped my hand from his face.
“I love that he loves me,” he replied.
It made sense. In a world that always reminded him there was nothing about him that made him worthy of care and attention, he was incapable of pushing away anyone who showed an interest in him. I wanted to question whether he could trust Lorraine’s affections, but I wasn’t the right person to do so.
“I thought we agreed no scandal,” I said instead.
“Yes.”
“But you’re having an affair!”
He let go of my waist, his expression darkening. “Aren’t you?”
My own temper rose, and I struggled to keep my voice low. “I’ve told you before. Armand and I aren’t together.”
He snorted, as if he didn’t believe me, or it didn’t matter whether I told the truth or not. An arm’s length of water sat between us, but it felt like a chasm the size of an ocean.
“So is this it?” I asked. “You love me and I love you, but it’s not enough?”
He met my gaze, defeat on his handsome features. “I suppose it’s not.”
“So what do we do?” I said, my voice wavering.
“I don’t know, my love.”
It might have been the words my love. Or his shrug. Or his lack of fight. My temper snapped, and I splashed water in his face as hard as I could.
Then I swam toward the shoreline, leaving him drenched in the middle of the lake. If he didn’t know what to do, I, on the other hand, had a plan. I had played nice for long enough. It was time for Lorraine to return to Burgundy.
* * *
The weather cooled at sunset.
The last rays of sunshine painted the palace in fiery gold hues and turned the glass windows into hundreds of mirrors. In the gardens, the king’s guests gathered under a canopy of magical branches and flowers. Ivy wound its way around colorful blooms above their heads, and the smells of roses and lilies permeated the air. Soft chatter and amicable laughter rose in the warm atmosphere, until the Comte de Saint-Aignan announced the start of the lottery.
Extravagant prizes filled the tables around the green enclosed space, from jewelry to art pieces, from rare books to baskets of fruit and delicacies. Excited courtiers mingled and reviewed the displays, and the press of people made it difficult to find anyone. The first familiar face I bumped into was Louise, in a lace-and-silk dress the color of a shimmering rainbow.
“There’s ice cream,” she announced, a porcelain bowl and spoon in hand. “Would you like some too?”
“Thank you, I’m not hungry,” I said, still searching the crowd. I had come here with a purpose, and I wouldn’t let myself be distracted.
But Louise remained at my side. “There’s cake too, if you prefer. And all manner of drinks.”
“No, thank you.”
Athénaïs’s husband walked past us, deep in conversation with D’Artagnan. A couple of steps away, Lully and Charles Perrault examined one of the books on display with serious nods. Farther down the table, Prince Aniaba said something to the Queen Mother that teased a smile out of her tired face. But the one person I looked for amid the crowd failed to appear.
“The king isn’t here yet,” Louise said as if he were the one I hoped to see. “The queen wasn’t feeling well because of the heat. But he’ll be here soon. They can’t pick the winners without him.”
“Yes,” I said, distracted.
“I like your dress,” she added. “It’s very beautiful.”
I wore a black satin dress, its bodice trimmed with an intricate gold pattern of leaves and its large skirts adorned with gold ribbons. I liked to think it offset my blond hair and agreed with my complexion, but the jump in the conversation still disconcerted me.
“Thank you,” I repeated.
It occurred to me then that this was Louise’s fourth attempt at starting a discussion with me in the last minute. We hadn’t had a proper chat in months, yet she now stood before me with all her attention focused on me, and a puzzling eagerness to talk.
“Is there something you want to speak to me about?” I said, not unkindly.
She blushed and bit her lip. “Oh. No. I mean … it’s nothing.”
I widened my eyes at her, more perplexed by the minute. Was this about her relationship with Louis? Or about the queen, since Marie-Thérèse and she weren’t on any type of speaking terms and seemed happy to use me as intermediary?
“It’s just something Athénaïs told me.” Louise said. She dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “It’s silly.”
I gave her an encouraging smile. “Now you have to tell me.”
Her cheeks still crimson, Louise drew a deep breath then let out her confession. “I heard you and Armand are … you know.”
My heart sank. I should never have let Athénaïs think Armand and I were together. Now she’d told Louise, and who knew where this would end. This
had been a mistake, and now I had to fix it.
“It’s not true.” I took her hand and met her gaze, my expression as open and honest as I could muster. “I’m not in love with Armand and there’s nothing between us.”
Louise squeezed my fingers. “It’s all right. I won’t tell anyone, I promise. Not even the king.”
“But that’s what I’m saying,” I said, frustration at her lack of understanding growing in me. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“It’s all right,” Louise said. Her pretty mouth stretched into a reassuring smile. “I understand. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
I released her hand, unsure whether she believed me. Around us, the crowd was still too busy with the impending raffle to even glance our way or overhear anything.
“I’m sorry I mentioned it,” Louise added. “I didn’t mean to upset—”
Among the courtiers, Olympe’s elegant silhouette appeared, snatching my attention. Clad in a gown of red and gold bright with magic, she greeted the Queen Mother and stopped to speak with the Comte de Saint-Aignan.
“Sorry,” I said, “I have to go.”
I left Louise standing amid the scintillating assembly and rushed toward my target. Without ceremony, I gave the count an apologetic smile and grabbed Olympe’s elbow.
“May I speak with you, please?”
She turned, her face a mask of offended shock that softened into a surprised frown as she recognized me. “Your Highness. What can I do?”
I leaned into her ear to whisper. “How about a little spell?”
* * *
It was the perfect night for a stroll in the forest.
The canopy of leaves rustled under the clear sky and the fragrant undergrowth awoke with life after the day’s heat. Twigs snapped underfoot as we made our way through the park, and I let my fingers brush against the moss-covered bark of a tree trunk.
