In the Shadow of the Sun

by EM Castellan

  That stung far harder than I was prepared for. It hadn’t occurred to me the French advisers had considered the possibility that I might not be able to bear children. I stared at the cooing pigeons swooping around the courtyard to avoid her gaze. The golden flecks dropping from the sky dissolved as soon as they touched the birds’ feathers, lending a sweet smell to the air around us. I noticed for the first time the way the magic turned insubstantial the moment it came in contact with anything solid in the quadrangle, whether it was the birds, the cobblestones, or us.

  Oblivious to my unease, the Queen Mother distracted me from my train of thought. “But as much as I wished you’d married my son,” she said, “I’m now pleased you wed Philippe instead.”

  It struck me that she called Louis “my son,” but not Philippe. I felt a twinge of sympathy for my husband, who’d been raised in the shadow of a boy-king by a mother convinced of the superiority of one of her children over the other.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Philippe is heir to the throne, you see,” she replied. “Until Louis and Marie-Thérèse have a son, of course. It shouldn’t take them long, but in the meantime, it’s important Philippe is, shall I say, under control. You, my dear, support my son. While giving France an alliance with England, you also provide the means to keep Philippe’s influence to a minimum.”

  I couldn’t help but frown. “How so?”

  “By being your lovely, clever, and delightful self.”

  My heart jolted. Surely she couldn’t mean my being a Source was my way of strengthening the king? How could she possibly know? But then, the Crown had spies and contacts everywhere. While my mind raced, my confusion must have been plain on my face, for she added:

  “Oh, Henriette, don’t be coy. You know Marie-Thérèse can’t compare when it comes to the two of you. Until she has a son, you’ll be the focus of all the court’s attention. You’ll draw everyone’s gaze away from Philippe.”

  My frown deepened at the coldness of her prediction. I had heard the rumors about how she’d always favored Louis over Philippe, but until now I hadn’t considered how far she’d gone to ensure the king’s supremacy.

  “My son has just claimed his right to rule alone,” she concluded. “He can’t afford to be outshone by anyone, including his brother.”

  She was right. Only twenty-three days had passed since the death of the Cardinal Mazarin and Louis’s unexpected announcement that he wouldn’t replace his prime minister, ruling alone instead with only three ministers to advise him. He couldn’t allow anyone to question his authority or think of an alternative to his rule at this stage. Philippe was heir to his throne, and despite his colorful character, many nobles might support his claim should Louis prove a hindrance to their power.

  We’d completed a full circle around the courtyard, our stroll bringing us back to our waiting ladies and guards. A new addition had joined their ranks though, one that made my steps slow but softened the Queen Mother’s features.

  “Athénaïs, I’m so pleased you could join us.”

  A couple of years older than me, the lady had curves and beauty I could only dream of, but her expression hid no contempt when she curtsied to my mother-in-law. I could have almost forgotten she was the dark-haired woman who’d laughed with Olympe at my wedding.

  “Your Grace.”

  “Henriette”—the Queen Mother turned to me—“may I present Athénaïs de Rochechouart, whom I’m hoping you’ll welcome among your ladies.”

  I had enough self-control to suppress a surprised look as the lady curtsied to me.

  “Your Highness.”

  Away from court for too long, my mother had left Anne d’Autriche with the task of handpicking my ladies-in-waiting. Her selection had pleased me until now, but I wasn’t certain this Athénaïs and I would get along. I made an effort to appear gracious nonetheless and opened my mouth to reply, when a bloodcurdling scream echoed in the corridor behind us.

  Stillness descended upon us like a cold mist. Another shriek rang out, and my legs propelled me forward into the hallway. Whoever made this terrible sound needed urgent help. I vaguely registered the Queen Mother hissing my name as my heels hit the flagstones, my skirts rustling in my wake. A third screech sounded, and I rounded a corner. There, I stopped in my tracks.

  A sobbing maid in uniform crouched by the wall—the source of the commotion, no doubt. Sprawled on the floor lay the body of a young man, with terror etched upon his face. The emptiness of his eyes and the stillness of his limbs gave no doubt as to his condition.

  “Don’t come any closer!” a male voice barked.

  I froze, too taken by the sight before me to be offended by the stranger’s tone. Out of breath as he reached the scene himself, the black-clad man extended one hand to keep me from stepping forward and focused his golden gaze on the servant who sniffled by the wall, tears running down her cheeks.

  “He’s dead,” she said. “Oh God, he’s dead.”

  Shock tightened my throat. His face a severe mask, the man in black bent down to search for the young man’s pulse. No wound appeared on his skin, and no blood marred his expensive clothes, but a thin layer of gold dust shimmered on his face and silk shirt. Glittering on his ears, eyes, and mouth, it had settled onto his skin like cosmetic powder.

  “Heavens!” Athénaïs reached my side, panting, and let out another, less-dignified curse at the sight of the body. She grabbed my arm, whether to hold on to me or keep me from swooning, I couldn’t decide, and spoke to the stranger still kneeling by the dead man. “Is that magic? Was it drained out of him? Is it … murder?”

  The magicien nodded. “It is. And I believe it was, yes.” He met her gaze. “You should take Her Highness away.”

  “Her Highness can hear you, and she can decide whether she should leave or not,” I replied. My heartbeat was still out of control, yet now that the shock of the discovery was over, I wasn’t about to faint.

  The man bowed his head in apology but didn’t stand up. Dressed in black leather, his clothes bore no ornaments, and mud covered his boots. Not a courtier, then, but the confidence of his bearing and the signet ring on his little finger suggested he wasn’t out of place in the palace either.

  “Who is he?” I asked Athénaïs. I wasn’t about to speak again to the man before a proper introduction was made.

  “This is Monsieur Moreau,” she said. “The magicien in charge of His Majesty’s security.”

  I should have known. Here was a man who looked like he belonged in the palace yet could melt into the crowd of courtiers without much notice. Louis needed men such as him to look out for him—in other words, spies.

  “And,” I added, my gaze shifting from Monsieur Moreau’s grave face to the young man on the floor, “who is that?”

  “Henri de Granville,” he said. “The Comte de Saint-Aignan’s Source.”

  This time, my breath hitched. The count was the magicien in charge of the court entertainment. The royal palace should have been one of the safest places in the kingdom for his Source. Yet here his Source lay, brutally murdered and drained of his power. My sense of safety following my marriage had lasted barely a day. I wasn’t any safer at French court than I had been all my life.

  CHAPTER IV

  The carriage pulled up in front of the small château, and Louise leaned out of the window to gaze up at the red bricks and white stones of its facade.

  “This is Versailles?” she asked, her nose wrinkled in disbelief.

  Sat by my side on the velvet-covered bench, Athénaïs pulled on her gloves. “In all its decrepit glory. His Majesty’s beloved hunting lodge.” Her sarcasm failed to turn Louise’s pout into a smile.

  “We’re only here for the day,” I said by way of lessening her disappointment.

  A musketeer in a blue-and-red uniform opened the carriage door and helped us all out. While Mimi sniffed the ground, her tail swishing back and forth, I inhaled a deep breath in the fresh morning air. Following the murder at the
palace, everyone at court had kept to their quarters, and Louis’s sudden decision to get away from Paris with his family had come as a godsend. After nearly a week trapped in the Palais-Royal, I couldn’t wait to spend the day on horseback in the forest.

  While the handful of horse-drawn carriages filed through the estate’s iron gates and maneuvered around the square courtyard to allow their passengers to alight, Louise examined the small country seat Louis’s father had turned into his favorite hunting retreat. One story high and derelict, the building stood both inhospitable and unimpressive in the sunshine, but we were neither expected to live inside nor to admire it.

  “It’s like I said.” Athénaïs joined Louise’s side and shrugged. “This place will never be more than a dump, I’m afraid. Thankfully we’re not here for the architecture.”

  “It could be lovely with a little work,” Louise replied.

  “Just like Philippe.”

  We all turned to face the author of the joke. Armand flashed a proud grin and linked arms with me before I could step away. “Oh, come now, you have to admit I’m right.”

  I freed myself from his grasp as my husband stepped off his carriage, his red-and-yellow outfit clashing with our drab surroundings.

  Armand caught me staring and stage-whispered to Louise, “He was afraid one of us would shoot him by accident.”

  Louise blushed and bit her lips to hide a smile. Armand winked, eliciting a giggle from her.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Athénaïs rolled her eyes at his antics and pulled Louise away from him.

  Since Marguerite was busy attempting to thwart her impending nuptials with a Medici grand duke, over the past few days I had found myself spending a lot of time with my ladies-in-waiting. Calm and sweet, Louise proved much more enjoyable company than I had expected from someone chosen by my mother-in-law. Athénaïs, however, remained aloof. Although reliable in her duties to me, she often found her way to Olympe’s side rather than mine during social gatherings, the two of them giggling and shooting me sidelong glances that made my skin crawl with unease. More worryingly, Athénaïs now seemed to have taken Louise under her wing, like a bird of prey adopting a canary before it decides to devour it. I watched the whole proceedings as if it were a play on a stage and I were a disgruntled stage director whose actors ran amok, yet after only one week at court, I was still learning the rules of the game and I felt ill-equipped to tackle the matter headfirst. I also had other worries on my mind, all of which had to do with my husband.

  The caretaker welcoming Louis, Philippe, and their mother brought my attention to the lodge’s entrance. The king had wished for only his close family to attend today, with each of us bringing just a couple of companions. Unfortunately, Philippe had taken this as an opportunity to invite Armand, thus ensuring there’d be no chance for us to spend any time alone. This seemed to be a recurring issue since our marriage, which had yet to be consummated.

  “I see the king brought his favorite hound.”

  For a heartbeat, I couldn’t understand what Athénaïs was talking about, since the hunting dogs and horses waited for us in the stables. Then a dark silhouette detached itself from one of the carriages, and Moreau stepped into the muddy courtyard.

  “I hear he doesn’t let His Majesty out of his sight since the murder at the palace,” Armand said in a low tone.

  “I believe that,” Athénaïs replied. “Isn’t the safety of the palace inhabitants his job, after all? Surely letting an assassination happen on the king’s doorstep is a breach of duty. I’m surprised he didn’t lose his place, or more, over it.”

  “His Majesty trusts him,” Armand said. That was enough to bring the matter to a close.

  Unfazed by our whispers and stares, Moreau helped the queen out of her carriage. If Marie-Thérèse’s dour expression was any indication, she was even less pleased to be here than Louise. Her Bolognese dogs hopped out of the carriage in her wake, four little bundles of white woolly hair that prompted Mimi to yap in excitement. With a glance of annoyance at my dog, the queen pulled her pets’ lead toward the main house, and we followed her inside.

  Louis, Philippe, and their mother had already reached the drawing room, a sparingly furnished space with stained tapestries and heavy curtains that kept out most of the sunlight. The candlesticks scattered along the wooden table brought an orange light to the high-ceilinged room without fighting off its dampness. Everyone gathered around the refreshments laid out at the center of the room, but only the two queens sat down by the large fireplace with their hot chocolate. I fed Mimi a biscuit to hide the fact I wasn’t eating any myself as the rest of the party got organized for the hunt. Nibbling at pieces of cake, Athénaïs and Louise chatted about horses, while Armand playfully inventoried Philippe’s coat ribbons and made a joke I didn’t hear but that made my husband roar with laughter.

  “Are you looking forward to the hunt?”

  The king’s question distracted me from my examination. I straightened to meet his gaze with a smile.

  “Very much so.”

  A silver goblet in hand, Louis gestured to Marie-Thérèse. “I’m afraid my wife doesn’t share your enthusiasm. Would you care to escort me in her stead today?” His clear eyes on me, he took a sip from his drink and waited for my reply. In the candlelight, his hair and irises shone golden, as did the galloon trailing down the waistcoat of his hunting outfit. I gave myself an instant to consider his words. From his smooth features, I couldn’t decide whether they were a polite request to rescue an abandoned sister-in-law or a far more suggestive proposition. A handsome twenty-two-year-old, he was well-known for his love of young women, but surely my overactive mind was reading too much into this. As he’d pointed out himself on my wedding day, I was like a sister to him now. No matter how lonely and forsaken I appeared, he couldn’t possibly see me as anything else.

  So I kept my smile in place to say, “I’d love to.” I shot a guilty look toward Philippe, but he was still too busy flirting with Armand to even notice what I was up to. My remorse vanished, and I held Louis’s gaze once more. “I hope you like to race.”

  This time, it was his turn to laugh.

  * * *

  Twigs snapped under the horses’ hooves, and the earthy smell of damp undergrowth filled my nose. Above our heads, the sun played in the green canopy, the forest around us alive with the chirping of birds and the rustling of rodents amid the branches, and my heart soared. For the first time in a week, the feeling of entrapment that plagued me at court vanished.

  Farther ahead, the excited barking of the hounds led the way into the woods. Armand and Philippe had rushed in pursuit moments before, and I ached to follow their trail, but Louis, Athénaïs, Louise, and the handful of musketeers accompanying us seemed content to walk. The king and my ladies discussed the type of game one might hope to catch on these lands, and although the château had left everyone unmoved, the beauty and lushness of the forest made clear where the estate’s wealth resided.

  “I think we’re boring Madame,” Louis said to Athénaïs in a conspiratorial tone.

  I did like my new title. The title of the king’s brother, Philippe, was Monsieur, and as his wife, I was to be known as Madame. At first the custom had struck me as odd—and not deferential enough. But I had already learned to appreciate its simplicity mixed with respect. There was only one Madame at court—me.

  Louis circumnavigated a puddle and urged his white mount forward to reach my side. I rode sidesaddle, with my long, trailing skirt flowing from under my warm man’s coat.

  “What about this race we talked about?” he said.

  Mischief twinkled in his eyes, and I couldn’t resist it.

  “Is there to be a wager?” I asked.

  “Your Highness!”

  I ignored Louise’s shocked gasp behind me and cocked an eyebrow at the king. He awarded me one of his rare genuine smiles.

  “Careful, Madame,” he said. “I never lose.”

  Emboldened by his familiarity, my
reply escaped my lips before I could think it through.

  “That’s because you’ve never bet against me.” I tightened my hold on my mare’s reins. “What will you give me once I’ve won?”

  He chuckled and pointed to a path on our left. “There’s a clearing this way. Should you reach it first, I’ll be happy to grant you a wish. Should you lose—” He smirked and my ladies’ giggles drifted up into the foliage above. Again, I couldn’t decide if his teasing was innocent or not. I chose to pretend it was.

  “Should I lose,” I said, my tone as assured as my resolve to win, “I shall give you one of my ribbons, which you shall always keep as a reminder of my endless admiration for your superior riding skills.”

  It was daring—a woman only gave ribbons to men she thought to charm—but if he saw me as his sister like he claimed, he’d think nothing of the sort and see my offered ribbon as a token of our friendship. The compliment pleased him, and he gave a nod.

  “The die is cast.”

  I didn’t wait for another signal. With a whistle and a firm hand, I urged my horse forward, down the trail he’d indicated, and charged away. I had no doubt Louis had a faster mount than I did, so I was ready to cheat to give myself a chance to win and salvage my pride.

  Shrieks and shouts echoed behind me, covered by the sound of my galloping horse. Within moments, however, another set of thundering hooves gained ground behind me, and a glance at my back confirmed that Louis was hot on my heels, a grin stretching his face.

  “Trickster!”

  I laughed in reply and focused on navigating the narrow path and avoiding trees. The rush of wind against my cheeks and the leaves snapping against my arms and legs tingled my every sense, as exhilarating as I’d hoped. My poor health had always made running difficult, and horse riding allowed me to move more quickly than my body would ever let me. I pushed my mount to go faster and ducked under a low branch. The snorting of Louis’s horse behind me was enough to propel me forward and taste victory, although I still couldn’t see the clearing he’d mentioned.