In the Shadow of the Sun

by EM Castellan

“What happened?” Philippe repeated, his voice rising in panic.

  Louis pushed himself to his feet and rubbed his face in his palms. Then he kicked a stool and cursed again. I inhaled a shaky breath, my burning lungs screaming in protest.

  “He,” I stammered, “he knows. Fouquet knows. He knows I’m Louis’s Source.”

  The enormity of our blunder stole the little breath I still had. We’d had one ace up our sleeves, and we’d just squandered it. I looked up to search Louis’s gaze, but Philippe stood up and punched his brother in the face.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  The carriage jolted along the dirt road in the sweltering afternoon heat. The whole court had set off after the one o’clock dinner and now proceeded toward Vaux-le-Vicomte in a seemingly never-ending line of horse-drawn vehicles. Louise peeked at the passing trees out of the open window.

  “How long before we get there, do you think?”

  Athénaïs blew air out of her cheeks. “Not long, I hope. It’s been hours.”

  Time indeed seemed to have slowed since we’d departed Fontainebleau, and my wrist hurt from waving my mother-of-pearl fan for so long. Yet I was grateful we rode in a covered carriage, protected from the relentless sunshine. Louis and Philippe traveled in an open one, along with a couple of handpicked ladies I was happy not to be among. Marie-Thérèse, six and half months pregnant now, had stayed at the château after a sleepless night, and the Queen Mother rode with her ladies. As a result, my presence at my husband’s side had been deemed unnecessary, and it had been a relief to find out I’d be away from prying eyes for the duration of the journey. My good mood had, however, evaporated the moment Louise had pointed out Madame de Valentinois was one of the ladies Philippe had asked to join him and his brother in their carriage.

  “Monsieur Moreau,” Louise asked through the window, drawing my attention back to my own carriage, “how long before we get there?”

  Moreau’s dark-clad silhouette appeared outside atop his horse. “We’re nearly there, my lady. I’d say fifteen minutes.” He shot me a worried look. “Is Her Highness all right?”

  His offer to ride alongside my carriage had come as both a surprise and a relief earlier. Chancing upon him in the courtyard of the château this morning, I had only meant to take our brief encounter as an opportunity to express my gratitude for his timely intervention in the chapel during the attack on Prince Aniaba. But he’d dismissed my thanks with his usual abruptness and announced he’d be happy to accompany me to Vaux instead, should I be willing to consider his presence at my side appropriate. Given the threat we faced by entering Fouquet’s territory without much protection, I had gratefully accepted. The more allies we gathered, the more likely we’d all be to survive the night.

  Touched now by his renewed concern, I smiled. “I’m fine, Monsieur Moreau, thank you.”

  And despite the events of the night and the unforgiving heat, I did feel well enough. I had been careful to rest until midday, and hoped to make it through whatever awaited us at Vaux without a coughing fit or a fainting spell. Now that Fouquet knew my secret, we had no doubt he would make his move while all of us were gathered at his château.

  Enraged after last night’s fiasco, Louis had wanted to arrest the magicien at the party, but his mother had talked him out of it. Anne d’Autriche’s stance was that seizing the man in his own home before the whole court would cause a scandal the crown couldn’t afford. With great reluctance, Louis had given in. But with the preparations for the party, none of us had had any time to think of a plan of attack, our only strategy consisting of staying together and surviving the night unscathed.

  Athénaïs released an annoyed sigh, bringing me back to the present once more. She glared at Louise, who fidgeted on the velvet-covered seat they shared. “Will you stop squirming? You’ll ruin your dress even before we arrive.”

  “Sorry,” Louise said. “I’m just nervous. And excited, I suppose. They say it’s going to be the most magnificent party of the century. And the king—”

  “Yes,” Athénaïs snapped. “We all know you’re excited the queen isn’t here and you can have the king all to yourself.”

  Louise gaped in shock—her idyll with Louis was still supposed to be a secret at court. I spoke before they could start bickering.

  “Louise is allowed to look forward to this evening if she wants,” I said in a soothing tone. “It’s good if some of us manage to enjoy ourselves tonight.”

  “Yes.” Louise nodded and turned back to Athénaïs. “Aren’t you looking forward to spending some time with Prince Aniaba too?”

  Athénaïs’s face crumpled at her words, and her eyes filled with tears. Both Louise and I stared openmouthed at this uncharacteristic display of emotions. I recovered first, and fumbled for my handkerchief.

  “Whatever is the matter?” Louise asked as I forced the embroidered cloth into Athénaïs’s fingers. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she hid behind her hands. For a moment her shoulders shook, silent sobs wracking through her, and all I could do was rub her arms and wait for the flood to stop. Louise sat frozen at her side, shooting me wide-eyed glances like a cornered deer.

  What did I say? she mouthed.

  I shrugged my perplexity. After a while, Athénaïs’s breathing slowed and she wiped the tears off her face. “I’m sorry. It’s just … I received a letter yesterday. From my parents. They’ve heard about Jean—Prince Aniaba—and they wanted to remind me of my duties.”

  Regret pinched my heart, but her explanation didn’t surprise me. The court was filled with people more than eager to spread all sorts of rumors and willing to play the concerned party when writing to a girl’s family.

  “So what are you going to do?” Louise said.

  Athénaïs sniffled in my handkerchief. “I don’t know. They’ve been looking for a husband on my behalf and they say they’ve found several ‘suitable candidates’ for me. They ask that I come home in the autumn.” She met my gaze, her red-brimmed eyes still wet. “I was going to talk to you about it tomorrow.”

  I grabbed her hand and pasted a reassuring smile on my face. “We will talk about it tomorrow, then. Tonight you can just enjoy yourself, like Louise.”

  I looked at my ladies, and I meant what I said. I wished them both happiness, and if they could find some at the party, I would be the last one to blame them. How odd it was to think what a difference a few months made. In the spring they’d been near strangers to me, and I could have never guessed that by the end of the summer, shy, pious Louise would be the king’s mistress while pragmatic, headstrong Athénaïs would have her heart broken.

  The strange prophecy of the fortune-teller drifted through my mind, then. I had seldom spared a thought for it in the past couple of months, yet it occurred to me Athénaïs and Louise might be among the maidens the seer had mentioned. If so, which one fit each description?

  Yet upon reflection, I hoped neither of them were the girls in the prophecy. They’d both become too dear for me to wish on them the terrible fates the old woman had predicted. Their friendship was another unexpected effect of this summer, and I didn’t want to lose it now.

  This train of thought brought me to realize that Athénaïs still didn’t know about my condition. Yet in the face of what might happen at the party, I felt compelled to share my secret with her at last. Her loyalty since the first attack on the royal family had meant she had earned my trust many times over. It was time for her to know the whole truth.

  By now she had recovered from her fit, and her attention was back on the slowly moving landscape outside. I shot Louise a warning glance, and announced:

  “Athénaïs, there’s something you need to know.”

  Her face was a picture of astonishment as I divulged to her the truth of my magical nature and summarized my part in the events of the last few months. When she had recovered from the shock, she let out a disbelieving chuckle.

  “That’s how you knew how to work around the count’s spell during the game of hide-and-seek.
I wondered how you guessed what to do with the doors. But I never suspected—” She shook her head, and turned to Louise. “And the spell during the ballet! Everyone thought the roses had been spelled beforehand. No one could guess—”

  Seemingly unable to finish her sentences anymore, she babbled on, but my mind caught on those four words: No one could guess. Up until last night and our terrible blunder during the dream spell, no one had had any idea that I was Louis’s Source. He’d meant for me to be his secret, and despite all the eyes on us, all the court spies and the endless gossip, I had remained so. Which meant that if Fouquet could be brought under control quickly, my gift could stay confidential.

  “Your Highness, we’re here.” Moreau’s announcement interrupted my musing, and prompted Athénaïs to gather herself.

  The carriage rumbled along a gravel path as we passed huge brick-and-stone service buildings. Then we crossed a bridge over a moat and a forecourt opened before us, above which the Crown Magicien’s château appeared.

  Louise let out an audible gasp. “Look at that!”

  I leaned out of the window to take in the looming building. The Baroque stone structure boasted two stories and a symmetrical design, with a central main body flanked by lateral pavilions. Steep slate roofs topped the facade, and a dome peeked out from the back of the castle. It was enormous and grandiose and utterly mesmerizing.

  Much like every other courtier stepping out of their vehicle, I looked up at the imposing home the Court Magicien had built for himself as Moreau helped me out of my carriage.

  A chattering crowd was gathering in the courtyard as more gilded carriages filed in front of the castle entrance. A memory of Versailles’s dilapidated hunting lodge flashed through my mind then, at complete odds with the lavish building before me. I searched for the king among the mingling courtiers. He surveyed the château, his face expressionless in the shadow of his wide-brimmed feathered hat, but he gripped his silver-tipped cane with a white-knuckled hand. Between him and the Queen Mother, Philippe pointed at the rows of elegant windows in the facade, and I made my way to him so we could all ascend the staircase together. My husband gave me a distracted kiss on the cheek when I reached him, taking hold of my arm while carrying on his conversation with his mother.

  “You’ve got to admit it’s all rather impressive. I know he paid for it with our money and he wants to kill us all, but still—”

  The man of the hour himself interrupted him by hurrying down the marble staircase and bowing low in front of the king. A muscle twitched in Louis’s jaw, but he accepted the fake compliment with grace, and let the Court Magicien lead us inside. He ushered us into an open-air entrance hall, then through to a domed oval Grand Salon to wait for the rest of the courtiers to make their way inside. While my ladies peered through the arches at the gardens outside, I found myself admiring the room’s checked marble floor and soaring painted ceiling.

  “Stay with Mother, will you?” Philippe whispered.

  Before I could react, he’d slipped away to greet a couple of young men in bright outfits, and left me stranded while Anne d’Autriche spoke with wigged old ladies.

  “I cannot believe you let him come with her.” I started at the arm linking with mine and met Armand’s green gaze. “The cursed Madame de Valentinois. Forgive me for being blunt, Your Highness, but I left you with one mission and you failed me.”

  A smile spread across my face then. Grinning at my husband’s former lover and letting him steer me through the crowd was the last thing I should do if I wanted to avoid gossip, but the relief at seeing him well and as confident as ever prompted me to forget we were playing on opposite sides of the game.

  “I didn’t know you’d be here,” I said.

  “Of course, I’m here. Everyone’s here.” He eyed the Duchesse de Valentinois with murder on his face as we moved amid the chatting courtiers.

  “Does Philippe know you’re here?”

  “Not yet. I wanted to surprise him. I didn’t think I’d find him still in cahoots with the diabolical duchess.”

  I gave his arm a condescending pat. “Do not fret, dear count. He doesn’t care about her any more than he did two months ago.”

  He tilted his head at me, infuriatingly handsome in the afternoon golden light. “You promise?”

  I considered him. If he was back at court, then he’d be back in Philippe’s life before long. There was no point in me avoiding him or pretending we didn’t both hold a piece of the same man’s heart. As he’d pointed out all those weeks ago at the theatre, this court was a battlefield, where we were better off as allies than enemies. Even if the thought of sharing Philippe with him made my heart ache, I saw no benefit from antagonizing Armand.

  I nodded. “How was Paris?”

  He waved my question away. “Boring. I’m promised to some poor soul—a countess my father found—and he’s happy. As happy as a man with no heart can be anyway. So I’m back!” He flashed his rakish grin. “Tell me: What did I miss?”

  The crowd in the salon was so thick that we had to stop our meandering. Loud chatter rose under the high ceiling and the air was stifling thanks to the press of perfumed bodies. Sweat beaded my spine, and I waved my fan with renewed energy.

  “I’m afraid I’m not the right person to ask for the latest gossip,” I replied absentmindedly.

  Armand raised his eyebrows and took a step back to examine me. “You’re right, I forgot. You are, however, your customary model of elegance. Putting all of us to shame as per usual.”

  I rolled my eyes at the smooth compliment and hid my satisfaction behind my fan. My blue satin dress did have a low neckline and dropped shoulders in the latest fashion. Silver ribbons adorned the voluminous sleeves while a large pearl brooch on the tight bodice matched my pearl eardrops. Thanks to Athénaïs’s hard work, my long hair was a mass of ringlets pinned on either side of my head and decorated with silver-plated artificial flowers.

  “Philippe insisted on matching outfits,” I said to dismiss his praise.

  He gaped in delight. “He’s wearing a dress?”

  I let out a laugh at the candor of his reaction. “No.”

  Although Philippe in a dress would have been an entertaining sight at this party, for once he’d decided there were more important matters afoot tonight than driving his brother crazy. So he’d come in a regular man’s outfit, albeit with more ribbons and pearls than my own ensemble.

  Armand’s face fell in exaggerated disappointment and I nudged him with my elbow. “He’s still pleasant to look at, don’t worry.”

  As if conjured up by our conversation, Philippe sliced through the crowd and appraised us with a satisfied grin. “My two favorite people. What are we plotting?”

  Armand took hold of his arm and whispered his answer in his ear. Philippe laughed out loud and I slipped from Armand’s grasp.

  “That’s my cue to leave.”

  At the same moment, the tour of the gardens was announced. The crowd let out a synchronized gasp of approval, and there was a general rush through the double doors, as courtiers elbowed each other and jostled for a spot behind the king and his Crown Magicien. For a moment I lost sight of both my husband and my ladies. By a bizarre coincidence I found myself walking through the two-story portico and down the imposing staircase outside along Madame de Valentinois.

  She greeted me with a polite curtsy, her trapped-rabbit expression a telling sign of how much she wished the press of people hadn’t thrown us together. Used to making do with awkward situations, however, I swallowed my annoyance, gifted her one of my most polite smiles, and followed my mother’s advice. When in doubt, mention the weather.

  “What a dreadfully hot day, isn’t it?”

  A mix of surprise and relief spread across her face at my talking to her, and she managed a nod. “Yes, Your Highness.”

  I opened my parasol and we followed the procession, our footsteps crunching on the gravel path that gave off heat like a stone oven. But as a breathtaking scenery of pat
terned parterres and water basins opened in front of us, my eyes widened and I forgot about the uncomfortable temperature. Using the laws of perspectives and the rules of symmetry, Le Nôtre had created a marvel that served as a stark reminder of his skills as a magicien. Making small talk with the duchess was suddenly easier, for my admiration of the gardener’s work was genuine.

  The tour led us down a wide graveled path lined with countless jets of water that created the illusion of two walls of shimmering water. The effect was cooling and fascinating, and for a moment I forgot I was walking in the lair of a dark magicien who wanted to steal my power and kill my family. More wonders awaited the court as we reached a terrace: A large cascade gurgled at our feet and fed a canal that stretched toward the horizon. Geometric ponds, carved fountains, and shell-shaped basins dotted the landscape, as if Neptune himself dwelled in the park.

  “Two hundreds water jets!” one courtier said.

  “Think of the cost!” another replied. “Outrageous!”

  “But how does he make the spells last?” a third one asked.

  With blood, I thought grimly, my wonder dissolving.

  At the foot of the cascade, a row of two-wheeled buggies awaited us. Courtiers gaped at the absence of horses: Magic propelled the small gilded carriages. In the distance, Louis, his mother, and Fouquet boarded the first one in line, and in the scramble to get on the rest of the vehicles, I lost Madame de Valentinois. My relief at having dodged an unwelcome companion for the ride was short-lived, however.

  I had barely sat down in one of the open-air carriage when Olympe joined me, a dangerous sneer pulling at her lips. My pulse quickening, I glanced around for Philippe, or Moreau, or anyone, but couldn’t spot any allies in the jostling crowd.

  “Your Highness,” Olympe said in a saccharine tone, “I’m so glad to have this chance to speak with you.”

  I moved to step out of the buggy, but it lurched forward and Olympe’s talon-like fingers wrapped around my forearm.

  “Please, Your Highness, do stay.”