by EM Castellan
I brought my gaze up to Armand, who lounged in our skiff with my husband in his arms. We had our shoes off and my feet rested on Philippe’s calves.
“Who does?”
Philippe was working his way through a box of chocolates, and he dropped one in his own mouth before handing another to me. Half-melted in the heat, it dissolved on my tongue in an instant.
“The court magiciens,” Armand replied. He surveyed each boat on the canal and ticked off his fingers. “Fouquet. Le Nôtre. Moreau. Saint-Aignan—”
Philippe scoffed. “You think the count tried to kill us?”
“See.” Armand pointed a finger at him. “That’s what they want. They make you believe they’re harmless with their party tricks and pretty spells, when in fact they’re plotting to murder you”—he jabbed his index finger at Philippe’s chest—“with great balls of scary darkness.”
“Why not Olympe de Soissons, while you’re at it?” Philippe shook his head and chuckled. “She’s hated us since my brother had to marry Marie-Thérèse instead of her. Come to think of it, I’m quite certain she’d happily kill us all in our sleep if she could get away with it. Starting with Mother.” His eyes widened and he straightened up, slightly rocking our boat. “Wait, what if Mother is the culprit? She’s a magicienne too. And rumor has it, she’s killed people before.”
“You’re not taking this seriously!” With a pout, Armand crossed his arms. “You all nearly died, and you joke about your mother. Who is scary, but still.”
Philippe placed another chocolate in his mouth and smiled. “Henriette, who do you think wants to kill us?”
His effort to include me in the conversation took me by surprise. Willing to make the moment of complicity last, I joined in the banter rather than give a serious answer. “I suspect your mother would sacrifice us all if it meant Louis survived.”
Philippe burst into laughter. His approval of my quip warmed my cheeks, and I had to look away.
“Why are we still talking about the Queen Mother?” Armand whined. “Why am I the only one who cares about this?”
“Because your theories make no sense,” Philippe replied. “What would any of these magiciens have to gain from killing us? It’s thanks to us that they’re here and wealthy.”
“Maybe it’s revenge,” Armand replied. “They hold a grudge against the king for some secret evil reason.”
Philippe ate another chocolate and spoke with his mouth full. “So this mysterious dark magicien, who lives at court, holds a grudge against my brother for some reason, and he wants to kill the entire royal family … and then what?”
“Make the new king his puppet?” Armand said. “Or become the new king?”
Philippe rolled his eyes. “A magicien taking the throne? There’d be riots on the streets of Paris before sunset and foreign invasions on all our frontiers before the week was out. He wouldn’t last a month. I don’t know anything about politics and even I know that.”
“Fine.” Armand shrugged. “Then there’s a new king, and the magicien forces him to do what he wants.”
Excited gasps and exclamations made me turn around. In the lead boat, Fouquet had just cast a spell, releasing dozens of bright butterflies into the air above the canals. They fluttered about the skiffs, disseminating a sweet smell and golden flecks along the way.
“But who would be king?” I asked. Unlike Philippe, I saw merit in Armand’s wild theories. Since yesterday’s attack, I had been wondering about the dark magicien’s identity and motives myself. “If we all die,” I went on. “Who is king of France?”
Philippe pushed aside the box of chocolates with a sigh. “Some distant cousin. One of the princes of the blood. Probably Guise or Lorraine. Louis knows, I don’t.”
I glanced at the boats following each other like ducks on the canal. The king rode with Louise, hidden from view behind a large parasol. The Queen Mother and Olympe shared another skiff, while Athénaïs had accepted Prince Aniaba’s invitation to ride with him. The rest of the courtiers filled the others boats, the sometimes mismatched pairings a sign that the summer heat had made a few people lose their inhibitions and that love was in the air for many members of the court.
“Or,” Armand replied, his mind still on his theory, “the new king can simply be you.”
Philippe choked. “Can you say it a little louder for the people at the back? I’m sure Moreau would love to hear you sounding like a traitor.” He shifted away from him.
Armand held his palms up. “Hear me out, darling.”
Our boat rocked until Philippe settled at my side, his body pressed against mine, and his casual presence made my entire being tingle. In an effort to build bridges with him and to show his mother I could be accommodating, I had agreed to ride with him and Armand, while refusing to acknowledge the irony of us three sharing the same skiff. Now I wished I had stayed on the riverbank with Marie-Thérèse and the army of guards. It would have been less awkward.
Or perhaps not.
“After all,” Armand said to Philippe, drawing my attention back to the conversation, “you weren’t directly attacked yesterday. Maybe the dark magicien wants his puppet king to be”—he stage-whispered—“you.”
Philippe threw a shoe at him. “Stop it!” He shot anxious glances around him, but the nearest boat held a trio of noblemen in colorful outfits, too busy sharing a bottle of wine to eavesdrop on us.
Armand retrieved the shoe and twirled it on his finger. “You’re just not opening your mind to all the possibilities here.”
“I’m not listening to such ridiculous notions!” Philippe said in a low voice. “Besides, your theory doesn’t hold up. If your dark magicien wants to kill the royal family to put me on the throne, shouldn’t he, you know, let me in on his grand plan?”
Armand pressed his lips together and wrinkled his nose. “You have a point.”
“Right.” Philippe wrapped his arm around my shoulder in an absentminded gesture, and it was all I could do not to lean into him. “Now, please, let’s talk about something other than all my loved ones dying and me becoming the puppet king of a crazy magicien.”
Armand let out an exaggerated sigh. “Frankly, my darling, you’re so hard to please.”
His reply distracted me from Philippe’s touch, and sparked a laugh out of me. My giggle made Philippe chuckle, and Armand beamed at us like he’d just won something valuable. In the afternoon sunshine, our magically powered boat kept on taking us down the canal, the waters lapping at its sides and butterflies fluttering after us.
* * *
After the boat ride, my carriage brought me and my ladies back to the château. Indolent and sun-soaked, we reclined on the cushioned benches and waved our jewel-studded fans in the late-afternoon heat, our minds still at the canal.
I replayed Armand’s words in my head as our vehicle crawled forward in the traffic clogging the dusty road. Even if Philippe had dug holes in all his theories, I still found merit in his attempt at singling out a culprit. In doing so, he had made a list of suspects, and thus an inventory of people to keep an eye on. However, he had left out the name of one magicien who seemed forever overlooked when magic was mentioned: the king.
As Armand had himself pointed out, leaving out even one suspect—as unlikely as they may seem—might be a grave error. To my mind, Louis couldn’t be ruled out just because he had been attacked in the gardens. As I had witnessed myself, a shrewd mind like his was capable of planning elaborate strategies and playing a long-term game. I wouldn’t have put it past him to stage an attack against him or me, like a smoke screen hiding the real victim of the plot. Because it was the royal family who had been attacked, we were assumed to have been the intended targets, thus turning our suspicion to all the magiciens at court. Yet I had heard of military strategists in ancient times, who staged fake attacks against their own in order to accuse the less supportive men within their ranks of treason and to get rid of any dissenting voices. If the king wanted to rid himself of influential cour
t magiciens in preparation for his own magical takeover, what better way than to make them the prime suspects in his investigation?
I closed my eyes to dispel the notion. The afternoon heat must have made me feverish to give me such thoughts. Thinking the king would be coldhearted enough to stage an assault against his own family? It was madness. He would have had no assurance that any of us would come out of the attack unscathed—it was a miracle we had—and I couldn’t believe he would put us in danger in this way for his own schemes. Additionally, he would have needed a Source to execute such a powerful spell, and given his struggle to do magic with me, I doubted he could have mustered enough skills and power to perform a dark spell like this.
“We would go faster if we walked.” Louise sighed, bringing me out my reverie.
Our carriage moved at a very slow pace indeed, the horses’ hooves clomping on the hard ground without much energy.
“In this heat? Are you mad?” Athénaïs rolled her eyes. “I am not some peasant woman. The whole point of having a carriage is so that I don’t have to walk anywhere.”
“Strictly speaking,” I replied with a teasing smile, “this is my carriage.”
Athénaïs inclined her head in deference. “You’re absolutely right.”
The attack had changed our relationship beyond recognition. I had no prior experience fending off a dark spell and running for one’s life with a fellow human, but in the case of Athénaïs and me, it had created a bond between us that I felt would be hard to break. Over the past twenty-four hours, we had grown closer than in the last four months combined. My morning swim canceled due to the ongoing safety concerns for the royal family, she had spent the whole morning in my company without my having to ask her, and she had shared more about herself than I ever expected.
“Don’t think I’m not grateful for the privilege of riding in your carriage,” she added, “unlike some people.” She nudged Louise, who pushed her away with a lazy yet playful gesture.
“It’s just so stuffy in here,” Louise pouted.
I couldn’t contradict her: The air was stifling despite the open windows and our fans, and dust disturbed by the horses swirled outside. Breathing was difficult for me now, when it had felt so easy during the ride on the canal. It made me long for the autumn.
“You’ve turned into such a spoiled child in the last couple of weeks,” Athénaïs said. She raised her eyebrows in feigned puzzlement. “I wonder why that is.”
Louise’s face fell as her gaze darted between Athénaïs and me. “What do you mean?” Her voice was high with uncertainty.
Athénaïs bit her lip, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, you know.”
But all traces of nonchalance had drained from Louise’s face. Picking up on her rising alarm, I sat up.
“It’s all right.” My tone was stern enough that it wiped Athénaïs’s grin. “We know about the king, but your secret is safe with us.”
“But … but,” Louise stammered, her panic mounting despite my words and Athénaïs’s reassuring nod. “No one is supposed to know. I promised him. He’ll think I’ve told you. I—”
Both Athénaïs and I reached for her hands at the same time, but I was the one who spoke.
“The king doesn’t ever have to know we know. Men have their secrets. So do ladies. I promise you no one will hear anything about this from us.”
I gave Athénaïs a meaningful glance. This was the real test of our newly formed alliance. If she ran to Olympe with this sensational piece of gossip, I would know her allegiance hadn’t changed. Yet if she kept this secret for Louise and me, it would seal our friendship for good. A wistful expression crossed her face, as if the same thought occurred to her. Then her features softened, her decision made, and she squeezed Louise’s hand.
“You can trust me. I won’t tell.” Her smile returned. “Although it might kill me.”
Louise let out a relieved gasp that turned into a giggle. Seemingly happy to see her relax, Athénaïs insisted:
“You’ll be responsible for my death, Louise de La Vallière. My tombstone will read: ‘Here lies Athénaïs de Rochechouart, who swore to keep her friends’ secrets and couldn’t cope.’”
This time, Louise burst into a hearty laugh. Their banter made me smile, but it was Athénaïs’s use of the word friends that brought me the most delight. Maybe, after four months, I could begin to trust my ladies-in-waiting.
“But,” Athénaïs went on, holding up her hand, “you have to make it worth my while. You have to share the details.”
Louise’s mouth formed a shocked O. “I couldn’t!”
Athénaïs glanced at me for help.
“You have to tell us how it happened,” I told Louise.
My gentle coaxing seemed to have been all the encouragement she needed. She folded her hands in her lap as if it would help her contain her excitement, and her cheeks turned pink while she spoke.
“It happened the night of the ballet.”
My heart sank a little at the thought that, instead of seeking me out after our first successful spell together, the king’s focus had been on seducing the lady-in-waiting I had chosen to trust with our secret. I pushed the thought aside to listen to Louise’s tale. Louis had never been interested in me for anything other than my magic, and for the sake of my fragile heart, I had to make peace with that situation as quickly as possible.
“After the ballet,” Louise explained, oblivious to my train of thought, “the king came to congratulate me for my part in the show.”
Athénaïs let out a giggle. “What a smooth talker. You had four lines.”
“Show a little respect,” Louise said in mock outrage. “He’s the king. And he thought I was ‘delightful.’ And ‘very talented.’”
Athénaïs snorted, but the brightness in her eyes showed she was enjoying herself immensely.
“And,” Louise added, undeterred, “he said I was the most beautiful woman onstage.”
“Well, that’s where he went too far,” Athénaïs said. “Madame was obviously the most beautiful woman onstage.”
I shrugged away her compliment, but appreciated it nonetheless. Although Louise’s happiness delighted me, something like regret tugged at my heart. Or was it bitterness? I was a princess, a Source, and the “focus of all the court’s attention” according to my mother-in-law. Yet once again, the king’s attention had landed elsewhere. I had been upstaged by a penniless orphan from a provincial town, and love remained a fantasy to me.
Athénaïs gave me a discreet smile while Louise carried on. Had she guessed the content of my thoughts?
“So during the party after the ballet, he and I started talking,” Louise said. “We talked for hours. It was such a beautiful night, and it was all so romantic…” Her expression turned dreamlike as she relived the moment.
“And then?” Athénaïs asked, her tone brusque all of a sudden. “Did you kiss? Did you…?”
Was she trying to cut the story short for my sake? Before I could dwell on it, Louise’s blush deepened.
“We kissed, yes. In the gardens under the stars.”
“And…?” Athénaïs pressed on.
Our carriage lurched to a halt. We had made it to the castle after all, and already a guard was opening the vehicle door to let us alight.
“Oh, thank goodness we’re here!” Louise exclaimed. Relief at seeing Athénaïs’s questioning cut short plain on her face, she accepted the guard’s help to get down from the carriage.
Before Athénaïs could follow suit, I placed a hand on her arm to stop her. “Will you really keep her secret?”
She met my gaze without flinching. “You asked me to, so yes, I will.”
With a nod, I let her go. I suppose we really were friends now. And if we were, there was one more secret I needed to confide in her.
* * *
“Please tell me you’re winning, my love.”
Philippe grabbed the back of my chair and squatted to rest his chin on the table.
&n
bsp; “Why?” I asked, my eyes still on the playing cards before me. “Have you just lost the contents of the Crown treasury?”
My game partners shot us uncertain glances, but I remained focused: We were playing lansquenet and I was winning, so I wasn’t ready to let my guard down.
“How come you’re better at this than I am?” Philippe let out a sigh that unsettled the cards and took a sip from the glass of wine I had yet to touch.
I gave him a pointed look. “Because I don’t get drunk while I play.”
Standing on my right, Athénaïs hid behind her fan to laugh. The other courtiers around the table exchanged awkward glances. It was another warm evening at Fontainebleau, and all the windows were open onto the starlit gardens. Half the court had followed the king and his new favorite, Louise, for a carriage ride in the woods—the Comte de Saint-Aignan had promised a surprise to anyone who would go to the canal tonight. The rest, who like me had already had their fill of exciting activities for the day, had remained at the château and gathered for a series of indoor games. Having had a fever since the early afternoon, I preferred spending the evening sitting down rather than jostled in a carriage.
“I’d better watch, then.” Philippe pulled a chair to our table, its legs scraping the parquet floor, and sat down heavily. He still had my drink in his hand.
A few days had gone by since the attack on the royal family, and despite Moreau’s efforts, the identity of the magicien behind it remained a mystery. Meanwhile, Armand’s father, the Duc de Gramont, had arrived at court and kept his son busy. All this meant that Philippe’s mood was even more unpredictable than usual. He stayed quiet during the next hand, however, his arm resting on the back of my chair in a steady manner that made me suspect he wasn’t as inebriated as he let on.
My friend Madame de la Fayette won to a round of applause, when a servant leaned into Philippe’s ear. His face darkened at the whispered news, then lit up in a flash with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“I’m afraid I have to leave you.”
He kissed me on the cheek, in the rapid and careless way he had of touching me that I had to pretend didn’t warm me to the core, and made his way out of the crowded salon. A bad feeling clenched my stomach, so I dropped my cards and excused myself. With a shake of my head to stop Athénaïs from following me, I went after my husband.