by EM Castellan
“Have we met?” I asked, glad to have Mimi in my arms to help me keep my composure.
“No, Your Highness.”
A sort of sadness tinged her every word, as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. My eyes became accustomed to the room’s shadows, and she stood out with more clarity. Maybe ten years older than me, sorrow or exhaustion etched lines on her pale face framed by dark hair, and her dress was a deep blue that appeared almost black in the dark antechamber. This wasn’t a gown for court, I realized with a renewed pang of worry, not even a summer dress.
“Who are you?”
She sank into another curtsy, each gesture slow and careful, as if she were used to not draw attention to herself. “I’m Marie-Madeleine Fouquet.”
I froze. A confusion of thoughts and emotions tumbled through me.
If anyone had asked, I would have been able to tell them Fouquet was married. Yes, I would have said, to a woman twenty years younger than him, I believe. They have several children—the repeated pregnancies keep her away from court.
I knew Marie-Madeleine Fouquet existed. Yet to my shame, the fate of the former Crown Magicien’s wife had not crossed my mind once in the past year. Fouquet had nearly shattered my family. But his actions had most definitely ruined his. And his wife, disgraced and alone, was paying the price.
Regret and sympathy propelled me forward, and I put Mimi down to seize the woman’s frail hands in mine.
“Please sit down, and tell me what I can do.”
I guided her back to the sofa and took a seat next to her. Mimi, reassured by my reaction, sniffed her shoes and wagged her tail tentatively.
“You don’t want me to leave?”
The genuine disbelief on the young woman’s face nearly broke my heart.
“Obviously you can’t stay long,” I said, “but I won’t turn you away before you’ve said what you came here to tell me.”
Her hands shook in my grasp, my words not what she expected, it seemed. She folded her fingers in her lap and nodded to herself, as if for focus or courage.
“Nicolas said you were kind and you would listen,” she said. “But I suppose I didn’t believe him.”
“You’ve seen him?”
I couldn’t hide the surprise in my tone. Given what I’d witnessed during my own visit to the fallen magicien, I didn’t think the king allowed him conjugal visits.
“I was allowed to see him briefly,” she replied, “before his transfer out of Paris.”
“He’s not at the Bastille anymore?”
She shook her head, her eyes wet. “I was told he was taken to a fortress in the Alps and I won’t be able to see him again.”
Louis really wanted the man out of his life, then. Before I could comment on the news, Madame Fouquet went on.
“He said the king listens to you. You could intercede on our behalf, to allow me and our children to visit.”
“I can ask,” I said. “But your husband gives me more credit than is due if he thinks His Majesty agrees with everything I suggest.”
I would ask Louis, of course, but I didn’t want the poor woman to hang all her hopes on my intercession. Still, her eyes shone and she leaned forward.
“You will? Oh, thank you, thank you. Nicolas did say you would help.”
The former Crown Magicien still knew me well, then. He had counted on my guilty feelings and good heart, and it annoyed me to prove him right, but I would do what I could for his wife, if not for him.
She fumbled with her dress pocket, and I puzzled over what she was doing for a moment, until she pulled out a piece of paper. She unfolded it with an apologetic smile.
“This is for you. I wrote down what Nicolas said as I feared I wouldn’t remember his exact words.”
I glanced at the scribbling in her hand. “What is it?”
“Nicolas said it’s a thank-you,” she replied, and held up the paper to read it out to me. “He said it’s a spell, and it would help you.”
A spell? My heartbeat quickened. Was this Fouquet’s last attempt at destroying me and Louis from his faraway prison? One last trick to get his revenge on us?
“The spell,” his wife read aloud, “is Déverrouille. It’s used to temporarily unlock the power of a Source so they can perform another spell by themselves.”
“What?” I snatched the paper.
My eyes skimmed over the two lines of text, which read exactly as Madame Fouquet had spoken them. I gazed back at her, and she tensed at the fierceness in my expression.
“What else did he say?” I pressed on. “Is this a real spell? Why does he think I might need it? When?”
Was he planning something from his jail cell? Another attack against the king, against the royal family? My suspicions must have been clear on my face, for his wife’s eyes widened and she shook her head.
“I don’t know much about magic,” she said. “And I know Nicolas hurt you in the past. But we need your help, and he’s trying to make amends. I wrote down everything he said, and I wouldn’t have delivered his message if I thought it might bring you harm. All I want is for my children to see their father.”
Her voice broke, and tears brimmed in her eyes again. Her sincere demeanor calmed my beating heart. I folded the paper and slipped it in my pocket. Madame Fouquet inhaled a breath to regain her composure.
“My husband knows nearly everything there is to know about magic,” she added. “And from what I understand, you share his interest in forgotten spells and ancient enchantments. I think he means this message as a peace offering, a parting gift, even.”
All those months ago in the cave at Vaux-le-Vicomte, Fouquet had wanted me to join his side. In all my life, he’d said, I have never encountered a more powerful Source in this country than you. He had dreamed of a future where he and I performed magic together. I didn’t doubt he wished to alter many of the events that had unfolded last year. But it occurred to me now that, out of all these regrets, the man who had once been a young magicien poring over countless books of magic to unlock its secrets might mourn the loss of my friendship most of all. The idea of what could have been—thrust against the reality of what he had done, alienating me forever.
Maybe he hadn’t changed, and he was using his innocent wife as a messenger to wreak havoc in my life one last time.
Or maybe the spell was genuine, and it was the last attempt of an old magicien, alone with his regrets and gloomy prospects, at sharing his encyclopedic knowledge of secret magic with a kindred soul.
As much as I hated to think of it, Fouquet and I did have a common curiosity for the possibilities magic offered. And in my upcoming fight to regain control of my unraveling life, a spell history had forgotten might be the key to unlocking my future.
CHAPTER XX
I only managed to speak with Louis on the morning of the Grand Royal Entertainment.
In the days leading up to the party, the king oversaw the preparations from dawn till late at night, moving about the Versailles estate, issuing orders, and casting a critical eye on everything. Always busy and surrounded by people, he proved impossible to isolate for a private conversation about magic and threats. However the looming menace of my prophesized death rendered me bold and inventive.
The king’s entertainment wasn’t due to start before late afternoon, but from one of Philippe’s passing comments, I knew Louis planned to check on the hydraulic pumps by the Clagny pond early. Never one afraid of rising at the break of day, I donned a summer riding dress and a large hat, before heading for the stables. Louis and a handful of musketeers stood in the paved courtyard, while grooms led out the horses in the rising sun.
The king scowled at me, the gilded ornaments of his brown leather outfit glinting in the slanted sunshine. “What are you doing here?”
“You know I like exercising in the morning, Sire,” I said, innocent cheerfulness in my tone. “Are you going for a ride as well?”
“I’m going to the Clagny pond,” he replied, his demeanor still g
ruff. “You might as well come along if you’re intent on riding somewhere.”
I greeted his offer with a smile and hid my delight at how easy this had been behind a grateful reply. I knew the king liked the fact I was as much of an early riser as he was. And I had planned on him being too focused on his own plans to care much about me. It seemed I had bet correctly.
Soon we were off along the northward road, squirting the palace buildings toward the large pond that fed water to the estate fountains. Dew evaporated in the early warmth, thin mist rising above the fields in a shimmering haze. The horses’ hooves clopped on the dry dirt, and birds chirped in the branches of the trees lining the road.
“May I ask you a question?” I said after a moment of silence.
The musketeers rode ahead and behind us, far enough to be out of earshot. His face his usual neutral mask, Louis turned his golden gaze to me with a brief nod.
“Did you move Fouquet because of me?”
He had never mentioned my interview with the former Crown Magicien, but I wasn’t naive enough to think D’Artagnan had kept it a secret. Louis’s silence on the topic had been reassuring at first, but after Madame Fouquet’s visit, it had woken an anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“I understand why you went to see him,” he replied. “But it couldn’t happen again.”
I bit my lip, misgivings rising in me at his choice of words. Was his decision to move Fouquet to a faraway prison a way to protect me, or to ensure the man’s knowledge would be lost forever?
“Surely you could let him see his family?”
I had promised Madame Fouquet to ask, yet all hopes of clemency died at the uncompromising look he gave me then.
“You have a generous heart, Henriette,” he said. “And Fouquet has used this to his advantage too many times already. Every time I have shown the same weakness and let the man see his wife and children, he has used them to send messages or try to gather support. You understand this had to stop.”
I gave a grim nod, my thoughts cast back to the spell Madame Fouquet had told me about on behalf of her husband.
“I wish there was something I could do for them,” I said.
“The woman isn’t destitute,” Louis replied, his tone stern but not unkind. “And even if I have banned her and her children from court, they are not without friends. I encourage you not to worry about them unnecessarily. There are more important matters for you to focus on.”
He glanced at my stomach, a clear indication that he knew about my pregnancy and that this was the “important matter” at hand.
In the distance, the surface of the three large reservoirs gleamed in the sunlight. The rectangular tanks sat at the foot of a tall tower.
“The cistern is inside this building.” Louis pointed. “We use magic to draw water from the pond and keep it in the reservoirs. They are above the level of the gardens, so we have enough pressure once the water reaches the fountains.”
We guided our horses toward the tower, where a few men stood with their hats in their hands, waiting for the king. I let Louis approach them and led my horse around the reservoirs while they went inside. A faint shimmer of magic remained on the surface of the water, remnant of the spell that had drawn it from the pond. Along the edges of the tanks, wooden crates sat in the grass, all labeled “fireworks.” So this was the reason behind Louis’s visit here, then. The men were preparing tonight’s fireworks display. I expected his conversation to last a while, but within minutes he emerged from the building, and we rode back to the palace.
“How often does the Pompe spell have to be done?” I asked to steer his mind toward magic.
“Every few days,” he said. “Obviously it lasts longer if Lorraine and I perform it together, but I often lack the time for it, so the fountain engineer does it.”
I had come across the intendant of water and fountains to the king, François Francine. An artist magicien discovered by Fouquet, he could turn any fountain into a marvel of water jets and music.
In the half hour since we’d left the palace, the sun had risen enough to blanket the estate with heat. Perspiration dampened my back and breathing in the hot air became difficult.
Yet I still had a few minutes before we reached the stables, which I intended to use well. And since he had brought up Lorraine’s name first, I jumped in with both feet.
“So you’re pleased with your association with Lorraine?” I asked. “He understands your vision for Versailles?”
Louis’s eyes took on an excited glint. “He really does. And his magic is so smooth, so malleable. Yours was very powerful, but his is perfect for my work.”
My work. The use of the possessive would have made me wince if I hadn’t known about Lorraine’s true intents. As it were, I needed to obtain information about him, and find out who was the magicien helping him to make spells vanish. I pasted an innocent expression on my face.
“Does he perform spells with anyone else?”
“Not anymore,” Louis replied in the self-assured tone of a king who doesn’t doubt he’s being obeyed. “I asked him to focus entirely on my spells and he has done so. His association with me is obviously very beneficial to him.”
His utter confidence made me pause. Of course Louis couldn’t accept to share his Source with anyone else, and he had kept Lorraine very busy since his arrival at court. He would have found out if the man worked with other magiciens. But how did Lorraine make spells disappear without a magicien?
A thought struck me so suddenly my hands jerked and my horse sidestepped in disapproval. I regained control in a heartbeat, but the idea wouldn’t leave me now.
The spell, Madame Fouquet had said, is Déverrouille. It’s used to temporarily unlock the power of a Source so they can perform another spell by themselves.
Somehow, Fouquet had known. Through his few contacts with the outside world, he’d heard about the king’s ambition and his new Source. It was in his interest to prevent Louis from achieving his goals, and what better way than to take away his Source by exposing his darkest secret?
Lorraine had used the unlocking spell to make powerful spells vanish alone. Since no one knew about the Déverrouille spell and couldn’t suspect him of doing magic by himself, it would have been the perfect plan, except it didn’t work on other Sources, and likely not on Fouquet either. And so the Crown Magicien had elected to use me yet again for his own gain, by letting me know about the ancient spell.
However, this time, I didn’t mind, because his plans aligned with mine. He thought exposing Lorraine would weaken the king. I thought it would allow me to regain my place as the king’s Source.
“I know you’re not fond of Lorraine,” Louis said, dragging me out of my thoughts. “And I understand why. But he has been a faithful servant to the crown and performed his duty without any difficulty or question. He’s incredibly valuable to me, and as a loyal subject yourself, I hope you see it.”
His meaning was clear: Doubting Lorraine was almost akin to doubting the king, and it wouldn’t be permitted, even from a princess. If I wanted to defeat Lorraine, I had to have tangible proof of his treachery. In the absence of a magicien accomplice, I circled back to the other solution available. I needed the list of vanished spells.
Thankfully, a royal entertainment was the perfect setting for larceny.
* * *
Heat still permeated the atmosphere when the French court gathered on the palace terrace for the Grand Royal Entertainment late in the afternoon. Unlike the Pleasures of the Enchanted Island two months ago, every courtier was invited this time, and the crowd was so thick one found it hard to see their own feet. Mingling conversations rose under the clear sky and jewel-studded fans snapped in the still air. Philippe held a parasol above both our heads and let out an impatient sigh.
“Where is he?”
He meant his brother, of course.
“He’s not late,” I replied in a soothing tone.
Everyone had come early to the meeting point,
either fearing to be late or eager to join the festivities. There was no theme to the party, and courtiers had taken this as leave to rival in extravagance and magnificence. Everywhere, magically enhanced fabric shimmered, gem-adorned coats and gowns sparkled, feathered hats and ornate canes attracted glances with features moving with spells, and lavish shoes peeked out from under long dresses.
Never one to be outdone, Philippe wore an outfit the color of the rainbow that reminded me of the clothes he’d had at our wedding. This time, silver ribbon and white lace trimmed the coat and breeches, enhancing the colorfulness of the interwoven fabrics. Upon his suggestion, my own gown was the opposite: a silver and lace dress with colorful ribbons and jewels. We matched without being obvious, which summed up our relationship quite well.
A happy exclamation rippled through the courtiers. “The king! The king!”
The crowd parted as Louis advanced in a glittering gold outfit and hat, his diamond-studded cane punctuating his steps. The sun glinting off the palace windows at his back framed him with light, like a confirmation of his nickname.
“Welcome!” His poised voice carried over to the assembled guests, who hushed to hear him. “Welcome to the Grand Royal Entertainment. I invite you all to follow me for a walk in the palace gardens, where we may encounter a few surprises…”
A walk. After the elaborate splendors of the Enchanted Island, the simplicity of a promenade among the Versailles groves appealed to me. Whatever I thought of Louis, I couldn’t deny him a gift for wonder and entertainment.
Accompanied by a small group of courtiers, among which Athénaïs, the Comte de Saint-Aignan, and Prince Aniaba, the king led the way down the staircase and turned right into the gardens. The large crowd shuffled after him, eyes shielded against the glaring light and excited whispers on their lips.
“Where is the queen?” I asked Philippe as we followed his brother, our arms linked.
“Pregnant,” he said, as if this was explanation enough.
She was only two months further along than I was. And in her absence, Louis was making polite conversation to Athénaïs in full public view. My heart went out to Marie-Thérèse, confined in the palace, and Louise, hidden away in Paris. The seer’s prophecy tugged at me, then, and I focused back on tonight’s goal: to expose Lorraine and in doing so reduce my chances of an untimely demise. I had no proof that the man wished me harm, yet his veiled threats at the ball made him the likeliest candidate when considering how I could come across death.
