by EM Castellan
“There must be at least a dozen vanished spells here,” I said with a sigh of dismay. “I don’t know them all. I’ll need to make a list of them.”
Armand presented me with a quill and an unfinished letter from the pile. “Write them down, then.”
Voices and footsteps resonated on the staircase outside, and we both froze. The light of a swinging lantern ricocheted against the window on the landing, fast approaching. My heartbeat thumping in my ears, I blew out the candles of our candelabra.
“The door is broken!” A male voice exclaimed outside. Booted feet pounded against the steps, and light was thrown onto the wreck of Lorraine’s door.
Armand gripped my hand and crushed it in his, his breathing accelerating. I blinked and refused to panic. We still had a couple of seconds before discovery. The anteroom was dark as a pit. I had had worst odds against me.
In a deft gesture, I grabbed the spell book and pulled Armand toward the bedchamber. Its door had been left ajar, and I pushed it open with my shoulder, before barreling into the dark room. Behind us, shouts indicated our presence was known.
“Close the door!” I ordered Armand in a low voice.
To his credit, he slammed the gilded panel a heartbeat later, and turned the key in the lock. I prayed the king’s guards would be more squeamish about breaking a palace door than he’d been. The bedroom curtains hung open, and thanks to the clear night, a dim light bathed our untidy surroundings. It was enough for me to judge the layout of the room to be similar to my own bedchamber. Without further hesitation, I tugged Armand toward the hidden passageway to the service rooms.
Behind us, the door rattled on its hinges as the guards shook its handle and pounded its panels. I wrenched open the concealed door, and we careered across the small unadorned rooms leading to the servants’ corridor. Armand tripped on something and cursed, bumping into me.
“Nearly there,” I said.
But my lungs were on fire, and finding my way in the dark was becoming increasingly difficult. Thanks to a small, round window above the servants’ staircase, we were able to stumble our way down the wooden steps without breaking our necks, yet once we reached the low-ceilinged, brick-walled corridor at the bottom, my breaths came out in ragged rasps.
“Why are you slowing down?” Armand asked, his own breathing uneven.
I couldn’t reply. Instead, I pointed at the rough door at the end of the hallway and signaled for Armand to mimic my unhurried steps. We were lucky to have encountered no one going through the palace’s back ways. Now wasn’t the time to ruin it by erupting out of the building like a pair of criminals on the run.
We paused behind the door to listen to the sounds of a potential search outside, but the coughing fit I had spent the last minutes trying to suppress tore through me. Prince Aniaba’s handkerchief proved useless, its enchantment long dispelled.
“You need air,” Armand said. “Let’s chance it.”
He hid the spell book under his coat and, still clutching hands, we walked out of the palace. We found ourselves under a stone archway leading to the gardens, with the clear night sky above us and the sound of the play reverberating in the distance. We moved to go around the building and find our way back to the main entrance, our heels clacking against the cobblestones. My cough wouldn’t stop.
Two guards with lanterns emerged from the palace as we rounded the corner of the building. They rushed to us as soon as they spotted us.
“Her Highness isn’t feeling well,” Armand said. “I’m accompanying her back to her apartments.”
The men fell into step with us, one offering to fetch a doctor while the other suggested asking the kitchens for hot drinks and food. A pang of guilt shot through me at their solicitude. We’d just played their colleagues for fools and likely got at least one of them into serious trouble. I promised myself to speak with D’Artagnan to ensure none of them would be dismissed for the events of the night. It would require some alteration of the truth, but it would be worth it.
By the time I made my way back to my chambers, however, the strain of the evening caught up with me. My body wracked with shivers and cough, I burned with fever and vomited as the doctor arrived. My brightly lit bedroom swayed around me, with servants buzzing about to bring linens and bowls of water. Reality became a series of flashes. A maid ushering Armand out. Another helping me out of my gown. The doctor feeding me a bitter potion. My lavender-scented sheets settling around me. Another maid telling me everything would be all right.
I closed my eyes, and the last thought that crossed my tired mind before sleep engulfed me was that, now that I had the spell book, the next step in my plan was to retrieve Lorraine’s journal.
CHAPTER X
The next day saw the conclusion of the Roger and Alcine story. The palace of the enchantress stood on an island in the middle of a vast artificial lake, conjured out of thin air in the heart of the park. The king’s guests crowded along the shoreline at dusk, their luxurious outfits glittering in the fading light.
After sleeping until midday and resting all afternoon, I joined the festivities in my most lavish gown to date, ready to face the court and to find out Lorraine’s secrets. Still, a shiver of anxiety ran over me as I made my way through the assembled courtiers, the layers of silk and tulle of my pale blue dress swishing around my ankles with every step.
The king was there, in conversation with his mother and Olympe. Farther away, Lorraine stood laughing with Athénaïs. Philippe chatted with Prince Aniaba, while Louise listened with rapt attention to some explanation given by the Comte de Saint-Aignan. Like an outsider arriving late to a party, I pondered which group to join, when Louis’s cousins Elisabeth and Françoise found me and led me to mingle with the nearest cluster of young aristocrats dressed in their finest glittering apparels.
And although people were eager enough to talk to me, neither my untimely departure from last night’s play nor the breaking into Lorraine’s apartments was mentioned to me. What appeared to be the topic of every conversation was Louis’s latest feat—the spell to create the lake. By all accounts, Louis had achieved his goal with this entertainment: all his courtiers praised his magical skills and lauded his powerful spells as if he were the first magicien in history to accomplish such wonders.
Fouquet was forgotten, Vaux-le-Vicomte gone from memory. After everything he had done, I didn’t regret the Crown Magicien’s fall, yet it struck me how easily his existence had been erased from everyone’s minds. Nine months ago these aristocrats had been applauding and admiring his magic. Now Louis had their attention, but how long would he be able to retain it?
“I’m so glad you’re here.” Armand hooked his arm with mine, and we moved toward a quiet spot on the bank of the lake. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better,” I said, then lowered my tone. “Do you still have the spell book?”
He nodded. “I don’t think anyone is looking for it though. This morning Lorraine’s door had already been fixed, and that same guard was on duty—he didn’t recognize me.”
“You went back there?” I said, my eyes widening at the risk he’d taken.
“I wanted to know what Lorraine was up to. He was busy out here all day with the king. No one has said anything about an incident last night. It’s as though they’ve swept it under a rug and chosen to forget about it.”
“They might not even have noticed a book was missing.” I pondered the news, far more reassuring than I expected. “Lorraine’s rooms were a mess, after all, and it may not even be his own bookcase.”
“So do we go to the king, then?”
I shook my head. “Not yet. All we have right now is a spell book with a few blank pages. Without Lorraine’s journal, we don’t even know the exact list of spells that are gone. We need both in order to compare them and prove Lorraine’s guilt.”
“What about going to the king with Prince Aniaba?” Armand said. “He will support your testimony.”
It was tempting, but my first a
ttempt at telling the king the truth had rendered me cautious. We couldn’t underestimate how much influence Lorraine now had over Louis. He might not believe me again and make any further investigation near impossible. And I didn’t want to involve Prince Aniaba in our schemes when that might put him in a difficult position.
“No,” I replied. “I’d rather we focus on getting the journal and—”
Athénaïs materialized by our side and pushed her way between us. “You two,” she said with a fixed smile and blazing eyes, “are drawing everyone’s attention, standing there whispering by yourselves.”
I startled and glanced behind me. Several courtiers had their eyes on us, hiding complacent smiles behind jeweled fans and exchanging knowing looks.
“There is such a thing as secret rendezvous, you know,” Athénaïs said between clenched teeth. “Or are you two intent on becoming the court’s latest scandal?”
“We’re not having an affair,” Armand protested.
“Tell that to someone who’ll believe you,” Athénaïs snapped. She gripped my arm and led me away, her voice rising in volume and fake brightness as we walked back toward the crowd. “This way, Your Highness. I have found the best spot to watch the ballet. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
She drew me to an empty space by the shoreline, steeped in shadows now that the sun had set.
“I can’t believe you, of all people, are being so reckless,” she hissed in my ear. “You left with him last night with the whole court watching and now I find you together again!”
I bit my lip, guilt at deceiving her seeping through me. She was my friend, looking out for me. But she had been laughing with Lorraine mere moments ago. I feared I couldn’t trust her with the truth of my association with Armand. And we had been reckless in our investigation, which made her scolding not entirely inappropriate.
Her features softened at my downcast expression. “I can understand falling for someone other than your husband,” she said, her voice gentler. “But you two must be more careful if you don’t want the king or his mother to find out.”
Her effort at understanding, combined with Olympe’s comment from the other day, woke a sudden doubt in me. Was she having an affair? So soon after her marriage? And with her husband at court?
A sudden blast of trumpets interrupted my thoughts. A hundred magical lights and torches burst to life on the lake, and the ballet began. From behind Alcine’s palace, a giant beast appeared. Exclamations of surprise and delight erupted from the audience.
“What is it? What is it?”
I squinted at the approaching fantastical creature, followed by two more silhouettes. As if coming straight out of the pages of a book, or from the depths of a faraway ocean, a whale and her two calves came into view, made of seashells, water, and seafoam. A woman in an arresting gown of blue, pink, and silver fabric that sparkled with magic and jewels rode the whale around the lake, to the swelling music of violins, flutes, and drums.
“It’s Mademoiselle Du Parc,” Athénaïs said, sparks of admiration in her eyes. “She’s amazing.”
Soon the enchantress—for it was she—reached her island and alighted, the whales disappearing back into the churning waters. Several of Roger’s knights and various nymphs, fauns, and naiads joined her in a complex dance in front of her castle, their costumes like gleaming gems on dark velvet fabric.
All of a sudden the king himself joined the ballet, dressed as Roger in a breathtaking golden outfit that shone like a flare in the night. He offered a ring to the magicienne, breaking the curse she’d kept him under. Just as she accepted the gift, Lorraine emerged from the crowd of dancers and took Louis’s hand.
A small thunderstorm erupted above the enchantress’s palace.
Even I gawked at the spell. Thunder boomed, and lightning illuminated the clear night sky, before striking the magical castle. All the dancers fled the island in magically powered small boats, feigning awe and distress. Alcine herself disappeared inside her palace. The storm doubled in strength, lightning lashing at the island and thunder echoing around the lake. Louis and Lorraine stood amid the chaos, unperturbed by this unleashing of natural forces they controlled seemingly without effort.
Alcine’s castle crumbled under the repeated blows of lightning strikes, its towers collapsing and its walls dissolving under the assault. Then, as the enchantress’s defeat was complete, fireworks exploded from the remains of her palace.
Their popping sounds replaced the rolls of thunder, and music rose once more above the lake to celebrate Roger’s triumph. Magical shapes and vibrant colors filled the heavens, fantastical creatures and chimeras chasing each other across the firmament before dissolving into nothingness. Giant birds, fireflies, and butterflies spread their wings above our heads, trailing magic and wonder after them.
The audience cried out, cheered, and clapped with endless enthusiasm. “Vive le roi!”
Louis received the roaring approval of his court from his position on the enchanted island. After a few minutes, he and Lorraine linked hands once more, and a gilded royal barge surfaced from the waters. They boarded the boat, which moved of its own volition toward the shore, glitter of magic in its wake.
Once back on land, the king magicien and his Source greeted the two queens first, then received the compliments of the guests close enough to catch their attention.
“This was incredible,” Athénaïs said, stretching on tiptoe to keep the two men in her line of sight. “I need to speak to them.”
And without further ado, she took off to elbow her way through the crowd toward her quarry. Meanwhile, servants in faun and nymph costumes offered drinks in gilded goblets.
“There you are.” Philippe grabbed two cups off a passing tray and handed one to me. “I was wondering where you were.”
“I watched the show with Athénaïs,” I said. The drink in my hand sparkled and changed color, and when I tasted it, a strange sweetness coated my tongue.
Philippe grimaced after his first sip. “What on earth is this? Why can’t he just give us some wine?”
“I see you found the alcohol,” a voice drawled, and we looked up from our experimental drinks. Lorraine surveyed us, dazzling in a green-and-silver costume and an amused twinkle in his eye.
I tensed, but Philippe didn’t even pause. He thrust his goblet under Lorraine’s nose. “What sort of poisonous potion is this?”
The other shrugged, unfazed. “How would I know? I’m not in charge of refreshments. The kitchens made it, and Saint-Aignan added the sparkle.”
“Well, it’s horrid,” Philippe replied, waving over a servant to hand back his cup.
This was my chance. I faked a sneeze and bumped lightly into him just as he was about to set his goblet on the tray. Philippe in turn stumbled, and jolted the entire salver, which tipped over and crashed on Lorraine, smearing his costume with sticky colorful drinks. The now empty cups tumbled down onto the grass, and the tray skidded to the shore. Lorraine let out a loud curse, Philippe exclaimed an inarticulate sound, and the footman shouted a horrified apology.
Curious onlookers gathered, Philippe focused on Lorraine while I helped the shaken manservant gather his lost salver and cups and apologized to him. Drawn by the commotion, the Comte de Saint-Aignan and Prince Aniaba came to the rescue.
“A cleaning spell,” the count offered, his voice muffled by the various conversations going on around us. “Very simple. No trouble at all if you will allow us…?”
“Why not?” Lorraine said.
His usual smirk and self-assurance were back, and he proceeded to undress in front of everyone. Gentlemen chuckled and ladies giggled as he took off his stained coat and ruined shirt. His sculpted, broad chest bare in the torchlight for all to see, he handed his garments to the count and the prince, who went aside to perform the spell and returned it within moments.
Normal conversation resumed as he put his now-clean clothes back on, and I slipped off behind the gathering to meet with Armand.
“Well?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Sorry, nothing. The journal wasn’t in his coat pockets.”
“And it wasn’t on him either,” I said. “His breeches were tight-fitting enough for me to check.”
“Scandalous,” Armand said.
I let out a frustrated sigh. In the distance, Lorraine let out a loud laugh, all the light and gazes focused on him. Our scheme had unfolded exactly as planned, yet we still didn’t have his journal. If he didn’t keep it with him, where was it? And how were we going to find it?
* * *
The file of carriages halted in front of a blue and gilded gate, each vehicle unloading its passengers in the afternoon heat. I shielded my eyes against the glare of the sun and alighted after Philippe, my jewel-studded shoes landing in the dust of the road. I flipped my ivory-and-feathers fan open, and linked arms with my husband. Sweat already ran down my back under my pastel day dress. Philippe wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.
“At least that was a short ride,” he said.
I glanced around at the green trees lining the road and the small building before us, seemingly sprung out of nowhere in the countryside. “Where are we?”
“We rode west of the palace,” Philippe replied. “We’ve reached the edge of the Versailles estate.”
Curiosity and puzzlement tugged at me. What was this slated-roofed building and why had Louis chosen to have it so far away from the palace?
“Let’s go inside,” Philippe said. “Before I faint and you have to carry me.”
I acknowledged his joke with a smile, and along a gaggle of courtiers, I walked with him through the gate and a gravel courtyard, then up the main staircase of the central building, which was flanked by two symmetrical wings.
A day and a half had gone by since the ballet and pyrotechnic display on the lake, and we’d spent most of it together. While I searched for another way to get Lorraine’s journal, I kept Athénaïs’s advice in mind and remained away from Armand while in the presence of so many prying eyes. Meanwhile, Louis kept Lorraine endlessly busy, which meant Philippe sought my company again. I wasn’t naive enough to think it meant everything was back to how it was before, but I enjoyed these moments with him nonetheless.