Anne had never liked Ninon de Larroque.
Most of the women of higher education in Paris did not, for they thought her ideas disturbing and her wish to teach peasant girls an independence from their husbands fool hardy and a waste of time, though Anne suspected that they were merely jealous of the woman's freedoms, her ability to be independent of any husband, regardless of her actions.
This was not the reason that Anne did not like Ninon.
In Ninon's defense, it was not the woman's fault at all. In fact, Anne lauded her work amongst the poor, was perhaps a bit jealous that she was able to do so much, unmarried and wealthy as she was. It was a power that even Anne did not have.
When Anne had first arrived in France, barely a woman yet, on the cusp of marriage to a boy she had met only once before, she had thought she would have that power. Had thought she would be able to do good things for the world, as her father had once taught her to think. Had thought that she would have some sway.
It had turned out, in those first grueling years at Parisian Court, that Anne did not even have the power to invite visitors to the palace without the permission of both her husband and the Queen Mother, the latter of whom was the more important in the giving of such permission.
She had been, in effect, a prisoner in a very fine cage. She could not have asked for a finer cage, she knew, for her every wish that did not go above ordering about servants assigned to her by the Queen Mother or eating truffles to her heart's content or wandering the gardens was met immediately.
But there had been days when she was reminded with stunning clarity of her status, that she was nothing more than a prisoner or, in finer terms, a guest, in French Court, and did not truly belong here. The Queen Mother made sure that those days were frequent enough that Anne could never quite forget it, for she much resented Anne's presence at Court, Anne's ability to sway her son to any thought that wasn't of Marie's own making.
And Ninon, from the moment Anne had arrived at French Court and perhaps long before, had always possessed that freedom. She was born of wealth, and a particularly doting father, as Anne had been, and yet the difference was, that Ninon had been able to keep it all, while Anne had not.
And Louis had loved her from the moment he laid eyes on her and Ninon opened her pretty mouth and spoke of politics, while Anne was scorned for doing the very same, on account of her being "irredeemably Spanish."
She knew that it was unfair. That Ninon was a woman renowned for her work with charity, and was always kind. And yet.
Anne sighed, taking her mind away from such uncharitable thoughts and glancing at her maidservant, as Caroline pulled her hair up into an elaborate style that was all the rage in the city these days. Marie de Medici had worn it to her son's name day, and so all the women of Paris were expected to want to wear it.
Including Anne, who privately thought that, rather than copying the styles of a woman who had no love for her, she should have been setting her own.
"What is this for?" she asked Caroline, stilling the girl's hand in her hair.
Caroline was a sweet girl, helpful and kind, but she was sometimes silly, a little too silly, Anne thought, and did not seem to understand the games played at court. It was simultaneously refreshing and infuriating.
"A fete," Caroline said excitedly, giving Anne's shoulders a little squeeze.
Caroline was little more than a girl, gifted to her by an exuberate duke who had nothing more to gain from doing so, whereas most of Anne's ladies had been appointed by the Queen Mother and had little love for her, and much love for any communications she had with her brother, back home.
Anne sighed. "Yes, a fete. In celebration of so many years' peace," she said softly. "So many nobles gathered together in one place, and they think the night should be celebrating peace."
Caroline snorted in a very unladylike fashion. "Yes, well, peace tonight, civil war tomorrow. You know how it is."
Anne glanced at her reflection in the mirror; Caroline was an exceptional hairdresser, and yet, Anne could not bring herself to feel any real emotion about it. "Yes," she murmured softly. "Yes, I know how it is."
She had already heard the rumors of Marie de Medici's plans, plans that she could not bring to the King's attention because he would never believe her, plans that she was not even sure were fully formed.
She did not know how long the peace would last, and so she supposed it was only right to celebrate it now.
Anne paused. "Why was I not informed of a fete, tonight, Caroline?" she asked calmly, not wanting her only friend at French Court to think that she was angry with her.
It should have been Anne who was planning any such fetes in the palace, after all, as was her duty as queen.
Caroline stiffened anyway. "The Queen Mother did not think it prudent, my lady."
Anne was not particularly surprised. It was merely another way of undermining her daughter-in-law's authority, after all. "Your Majesty," she corrected the girl, and Caroline flushed.
"Of course. Your Majesty. But don't worry; I'll have you ready in no time at all. The fete is not for a little while longer, and you shall be fit as a queen, by then."
Anne bit her lip, not bothering to remind the girl that she was a queen.
The fete was just as wretched as Anne had imagined it would be. In Spain, she had loved the balls that her father had thrown, and then her brother, but here, she often found herself growing overwhelmed easily. She did not know the people of her new court, for her mother-in-law had never allowed her to get to know them, and even here, Marie dominated the ball room, moving from noble to noble, and monopolizing her son's time on the dance floor whenever Anne looked as though she might approach him.
"Your Majesty," a voice said then, and Anne turned to see the Cardinal standing before her, smiling coolly, in that way that he always did.
She had steered clear of the Cardinal so far, in her time here, for she knew that he was a man of cunning, and would no doubt attempt to use her ignorance against her, and though she was pious, she feared that she might not be pious enough for France's Cardinal.
"Cardinal Richelieu," she said quietly, curtseying as he bowed to her.
"I have not seen you in some time, Your Majesty. Perhaps you would like to come and confess, tomorrow?"
Anne found her mind drifting from the conversation, as she glanced toward her husband, dancing with his mother once more. The Cardinal followed her gaze. "I do believe that we might have more to discuss than you might think."
She glanced up at him. "Are you implying that I have been untruthful in my confessions, Cardinal? I can assure you that nothing is further from the truth."
He smiled gently, as though she were a child. She supposed that, in his mind, she was. "Nothing could be further from my mind, Your Majesty. In fact, I was referring to another sort of discussion," he said, and was it her imagination, or did he nod toward the Queen Mother? "One still best had behind closed doors."
Anne swallowed hard, watching as her husband spun his mother around, smiling a smile that was never reserved for her. "I do not like to get involved in anything that cannot be said out in the open, Cardinal," she said shortly. "I love my husband, and know my duty to him."
The Cardinal raised a brow. "This discussion would not be going against your husband, Your Majesty. And...I think that you would like it all the same."
Anne stared at him. "Why the sudden interest in such a conversation, Cardinal? I cannot remember a time when you sought my attentions before," she said calmly, smiling at the several nobles who were glancing their way in interest.
The Cardinal shrugged. "Perhaps I have...seen the light, as it were. I do believe that both of us could benefit from such a discussion." A pause. "It should be you out there, dancing your heart away like a carefree youth."
She turned to him, about to say something roiling, when she caught the look on his face. It was not one of sympathy, nor one of malice. Merely, his face was entirely blank, and Anne swallowed at the sight of it.
"Your Majesty," the Cardinal said then, glancing at her with a look that could only be described as interest, though she knew that he had never shown interest in her before. Perhaps because he doubted her to be anything more than a spineless Spanish flower.
She was not sure whether this look worried her or not.
"Cardinal," Anne dipped her head to him, and he nodded to her, and Anne took the next moment to escape out of one of the side doors of the ball room, into the royal garden.
The royal gardens were Anne's sanctuary. She had come here often, during the tenuous reign of Marie de Medici as her son's regent, to simply walk about where she would not be scrutinized by the aristocracy, or subjected to Marie's taunts. The woman did not like these gardens, for some reason, and rarely ever came here. Louis was a sickly child when they were younger, and rarely stepped out of doors.
And so, Anne had come here very often indeed.
She had not expected Ninon to be out here in the royal garden that had become Anne's sanctuary over the years, and certainly had not expected her to be here alone, and clearly wishing to speak with Anne.
"You are not enjoying the fete?" Anne asked, keeping her voice deceptively mild.
Ninon looked up, smiled at her. "I do not find the chance to ogle men and be ogled in turn very alluring, no."
Anne raised an eyebrow, moving closer, and, despite herself, finding this woman's honesty rather refreshing, after spending so long around backstabbing, boot licking ladies' maids. "Why did you come, then?"
Ninon gave her a pointed look. "Because I received a royal invitation, and to do otherwise without having a suitable sickness to excuse me, an excuse I have used the last few dozen times, would have looked bad."
Anne felt a surprised laugh bubble up at those words, and Ninon glanced at her with equal surprise, as if she had expected some sort of reprimand for her words, rather than laughter.
They fell into a careful silence then, Anne crossing her arms and glancing at the roses wrapped around the seat of the bench. It was Ninon who broke the silence.
"You are jealous of me," Ninon said, her voice soft, words slow. As Anne had never imagined this particular woman as slow, she had to wonder at the confusion lighting the woman's eyes. "Because of the sway I have with the King?"
Anne glanced at her. "Do you blame me?" she asked. "Surely you have heard of my own relationship with the king. Why should I not begrudge you yours?"
Ninon raised a brow, reaching out a hand as though to comfort her, and then letting it drop back down to her side. "I have no wish to cause you any undue pain, Your Majesty. I do understand you've suffered enough, thus far."
Anne blinked at her. "What do you know of what I've suffered?" she demanded, and then reminded herself that queens did not demand things.
Ninon smiled, as if she could see Anne's very thoughts, and, though Anne had never once believed the whispered rumors that Ninon was a witch, she shivered, pulling her shawl a bit more tightly around her shoulders. "Only what I've heard, of course. And one does tend to hear royal gossip, regardless of how they try to remove themselves from it."
Anne flushed. "Gossip is not always true."
Ninon gave her a look that was almost pitying, and Anne debated getting up and leaving right then, for she could not bear such pity on this beautiful woman's features.
"Yes," Ninon said calmly, glancing out at the flowers of Anne's garden.
"Is it true, what they say? That you will not marry because you are not...attracted to the male sex?" Anne blurted out, and Ninon laughed; it sounded like trickling water.
"No," she answered, with a little shrug. "It is not true. I would love a man and be loved in turn, but..." she shook her head. "I have never met such a man."
And, though she knew it was ridiculous, Anne felt a little flare of defensiveness, at those words. "And do you judge all women who do not have the opportunity to do the same?"
Ninon smiled, though there was a touch of sad understanding in her eyes. Anne had the odd apprehension that it was in fact pity, and felt her skin crawl. "Of course I do not."
Anne flushed, feeling like a chastised child, but her thoughts were turned toward uncharitable memories today, and she had no wish to pretend to be civil, especially with someone who felt little need to adhere to the rules of courtly society in turn. "Forgive me. I shouldn't have said such a thing. The...atmosphere of the party has gotten to me."
Ninon's lips quirked. "I can understand that."
Anne lifted her eyes, meeting the other woman's. "You are not what I was expecting, Lady de Larroque."
"If it means anything to you, Your Majesty, I think you are one of the braver women I have ever met. I was not expecting that, either," Ninon whispered, yet, when Anne turned around, she was gone.
It had been some time since Anne had spoken to Ninon since then, for the other woman preferred to spend her time locked away in her lavish home, rather than at Court, and, when she was there, the king often took up most of the woman's time, walking through the gardens with her and talking of things he would never trust to mention before Anne, and then rhapsodizing over the woman's beauty and what a pity it was that she had not found herself a husband.
Anne had, in truth, not thought of the woman more than she could help since their strange conversation in the garden, and only thought of her now as their carriage passed by the woman's home and Louis mentioned that it had been some time since the woman had graced them with her presence at Court.
"I am sure that she has a good excuse, Your Majesty," Anne said quietly, glancing out the window of the carriage that was being shared with the Cardinal, hardly wanting to look at him instead.
The King sighed. "I do so miss her wild opinions. They are often very amusing."
Anne barely bit back a sigh herself, at those words.
"Make way! Make way for the King and Queen of France!"
"It is so tedious that we have to wade through so many peasants," Louis muttered beside her, and Anne glanced at him, giving a noncommittal grunt as the carriage sloughed through another hole in the road.
Across from them in the carriage, the Cardinal nodded. "One of the many burdens of your station, Your Majesty," he murmured, and Anne gave him a long look, before smiling.
She knew that the Cardinal would rather the King stay shut up in his palace as much as possible; it would give him free reign over the streets of Paris, and perhaps over the countryside as well.
It had been an ongoing war between the two of them, him to keep the King shut away and Anne to bring him out to see his people as much as possible, so that he could know the country he lived in and ruled over.
The alliance between the two of them, long ago in the time when they had deposed Marie de Medici was long past.
"They merely wish to see their rulers and know that we are well," she said softly, touching Louis' arm gently, gratified when he did not pull away from the Cardinal. "I do not see the harm in it."
"The harm," Louis grumbled, throwing off her touch, "Is that we will never make it back to the palace before noon, at this rate."
"Your Majesty!" voices called out from beyond their carriage, and Anne considered sticking her hand out and waving, but remembered the recent threat to her life, how closely she had come to death, and decided it would be best not to do so.
"Please, Your Majesty!" another voice, this one higher than the others, and Anne closed her eyes against the sound, a stab of pity running through her.
Often, their subjects came before the King and Queen, knowing that an audience would gain them much more than their local magistrate, a man who fattened himself on wine and whores, ever would. But the people should have known that their king was not one to stand on ceremony before them, and that he had little interest in their private affairs.
They might have saved themselves the bother of coming out on this blisteringly hot day and begging to a silent carriage, so many of them, lining the streets like excited children, just wanting a glimpse of their king, a glimpse of their opening.
Anne saw the girl running toward her before even the guards did, exchanging a nervous look with Caroline before suddenly the girl was there, stepping up and leaning against the carriage, her eyes wide.
She looked so young.
"Your Majes-" she cried out, and then she went down, her dress ripping loudly despite the din as she fell beneath the wheels of the carriage.
The Cardinal grunted in surprise as Anne lifted a hand to cover her mouth, horrified.
The carriage pulled to a stop as the loud screams of the people filled the air, and Anne felt Louis squeezing her hand, wondered if it was out of an attempt to give comfort or receive it.
Anne leaned out of the carriage, gasping when she saw the mangled mess that had been a young girl with pretty wide eyes, and jerked her vision away from the remains, unable to bear the sight.
"Stay there, Your Majesty!" she heard Treville shout as he rode up to her. "It's not safe." And then, to the carriage driver, "Ride on! Now!"
And, as they rode away, Anne couldn't help but glance back once more.
"Dear God!" Louis cried out next to her, reaching out and squeezing Anne's hand. "How could our guards have allowed that peasant to get so close?" he demanded, and Anne bit her lip. "She could have easily killed me. Imagine, a peasant child destroying the King of France. I will not abide these rides any longer Cardinal. You will see to arrangements that they are more discreet."
The Cardinal nodded, looking rather shaken. "Of course, Your Majesty."
"Perhaps she did not have so evil a motive in mind, Your Majesty," Anne said carefully, and Louis glanced at her irritably.
"My love, you are always so disposed to think kindly of others," he said, taking her hand and kissing it, in a way that told her she would not win such an argument, if she tried to take it up.
Anne sighed. "Of course, Your Majesty. I am sure that you are right."
The ride back to the palace was filled with Louis' anger at being targeted in broad daylight, and the Cardinal's assurances that he would track down this culprit and ensure that such a thing never happened again, if Treville was so incapable of doing so himself.
Anne stayed silent during that conversation, knowing that her input was not particularly welcome, and unable to stop thinking of the girl, in any case.
When they reached the palace, Louis wasted no time in interrogating Captain Treville, once he arrived, looking rather grim and holding a letter.
"Was it an attempt on my life?" Louis demanded, voice barely higher than a whisper, sounding shaken. And he was, Anne knew; the number of attempts on their life recently had become too many for her comfort, and it seemed they were only increasing in number, despite the extra protections of the musketeers and the Cardinal's Red Guards.
"The young woman merely wanted to present this petition to the Queen."
"To me?" Anne repeated, genuinely confused. "Why?"
The Cardinal snatched the petition from Treville's hands, and Anne held back a huff of indignation, remembering that the Cardinal often read her letters, regardless of whether or not she was present to see him do so.
"She was an orphan from a humble background. It has something to do with a plea for women's education."
"If she was an illiterate orphan, she could not have written this. It is misguided, but not unintelligent."
"You don't favour women's education?"
"I admire learning wherever it is to be found, but this amounts to an attack on the authority of church and state."
The doors to the library slammed open behind them, a woman's loud voice shouting, "Stay out of my way! I will address the King."
Anne recognized the voice immediately, even before she saw Ninon de Larroque bodily push one of the guards out of her way when he attempted to make a grab for her.
"Comtesse de Larroque!" Louis smiled, just as he always did when her name was mentioned. "To what do I owe the honour?"
Ninon composed herself then, giving the King a dazzling smile that Anne found rather cool, and curtseying. "Your Majesty. I want to know why this tragedy happened. If your guards are to blame, I want them punished."
"You knew this lunatic?" the Cardinal asked, voice filled with derision.
"She was sane as you or me." She paused. "Well, me, anyway." And Anne couldn't quite hide her smile, at that. "She was the daughter of a servant of mine. She had wits and ability. I decided to give her an education."
"A ser...servant girl? An education?" Louis shook his head, bemused. "Sorry, I don't follow."
"It seems you educated her too well. She wrote this and then was killed trying to give it to the Queen," Cardinal interrupted.
"Don't be ridiculous. She didn't write it. I did."
"Did you tell this young girl to give her petition to the Queen?" Treville asked.
"I merely told her that the Queen is a woman of wisdom and kindness, who might sympathise with our cause," Ninon nodded to Anne.
Anne blinked, genuinely surprised by the praise. "I shall read it," she promised.
"Walk with me in the garden, Ninon," Louis said then, smiling. I've often found your company so stimulating."
"Another time, Your Majesty. I am too distressed at present." And then she turned on her heel and walked from the room, leaving the three men and the queen staring after her in bemusement.
"Did she just refuse my company?" Louis asked finally.
"I believe she did, sire," Anne said, reluctantly impressed.
"Is that allowed?" He didn't seem angry, only amused.
"Apparently, the Comtesse de Larroque believes herself above the normal laws and conventions of society." There was an ominous tone to his voice as the Cardinal said the words, and Anne blinked, her confusion over Ninon gone, replaced with a new subject.
The Cardinal hadn't had any real plots in some time, though she suspected that he'd been up to something suspicious while Marie de Medici was here. But Anne was not a fool; she knew that he was always plotting about one thing or another.
"Your Majesty!" the girl screamed, reaching an arm out towards her. "Please, Your Majest-"
The carriage ran over the girl's feet then, dragging her down from the window where she'd been perched, and Anne screamed as an overwhelming amount of blood splattered against her clothes, her hair-
Anne woke in her own bed, drenched in sweat, one of her ladies, Caroline, rushing forward to dab a cloth against her forehead and offer her some water.
"Are you all right, my lady?" she asked quietly, and Anne blinked at her, before her eyes cleared and she remembered where she was.
"I..."
She thought of the girl, the one whom she had helped from the Bastille, wondered if she was happy now, back with her family. She could just have easily been killed by now, in some other trivial accident.
"I'd like some water," she told Caroline softly, sitting up and taking a sip of the proffered gift a moment later, breathing under control once more.
Caroline hovered near her bed, and Anne doubted that the girl was eager to go back to sleep on her blanket on the floor, as she had taken that position several times in the last week.
It was supposed to be an honor, to lay in the Queen's bedchambers and protect her should she need it, but Anne's ladies seemed to find it to be far more troublesome than most ladies in waiting did.
"Would...would you like to talk about it, my lady?" Caroline asked sweetly, and Anne pinched the bridge of her nose.
"No, Caroline, I would not. Go back to sleep." She patted the space beside her on the bed; it was not as though the King would come into her chambers now, so there was no need for the girl to sleep on the floor while the spot went to waste, surely.
Caroline's eyes widened, but she crawled into the bed beside the Queen, stiff as a board, and a few moments later, Anne heard her steady, unlabored breathing, wishing that she could find such peace so quickly.
She did not find it, that night, lying awake long after her lady had fallen asleep, and still awake when her lady sat up in the morning, declaring that they were now tardy and scrambling to ready both herself and her queen.
"Tardy?" Anne repeated. "I was not aware that we had any pressing engagements today." She doubted very much that, after the excitement of yesterday, the king would allow any.
"The Father from Rome has requested an audience with your majesties," Caroline said quietly, helping Anne into her dress. "The King wishes to get it over with as soon as possible."
Anne smiled. "That certainly sounds like the King. Any idea what he wants?"
Caroline's eyes widened as she pulled the straps tight to Anne's gown. "I do not know, my lady. He has been very quiet about his purpose here; the servant sent to clean his rooms was turned away, as was the girl to bring him his supper last night."
Anne sighed. "Well, thank you anyway, Caroline."
"Of course, Your Majesty. I will...try to find out anything else."
Anne waved a hand. "There is no need for that. He has been sent by the Vatican, and I doubt it would look good for us, to have you sniffing about his affairs."
Caroline colored at her words. "Of course, Your Majesty. Shall you have something to break your fast, before going to greet him with the King?"
Anne hesitated. "Some of that new coffee they've brought would not go amiss," she said finally, and Caroline's eyes lit up, for the girl knew that Anne would allow her some of the chocolate that would otherwise be melted into the strange, bitter drink.
Anne smiled, wishing that she herself was so easily appeased as she sipped the hot drink, the cocoa managing to sweeten the otherwise bitter and strange drink that had so recently been introduced to her.
When she was done, she stood, allowing Caroline and another of her ladies to escort her to the throne room, where the king was already waiting, pacing a little before his face lit up at the sight of her.
Now, that was a strange sight indeed.
"Your Majesty," she said, walking forward and curtseying to him, her ladies making themselves scarce.
The King nodded to her, before sitting down on his throne, without scarcely a 'good morning.' Anne sighed, following him, and wishing that she understood her husband better.
Two musketeers flanked the man when the Father was brought in, escorted by Rochefort, though he walked as though they were his servants, rather than his guards, and Anne thought he might believe just that. He looked like a rodent, a pompous little man who's eyes never even met hers as he gave the king what could scarcely be called a bow.
"Luca," she heard the Cardinal address the man, but couldn't quite bring herself to pay attention, for her eyes were drawn to the musketeer on the priest's left. "I am delighted to see you. Why didn't Rome inform us you were coming?"
Aramis, her musketeer. It had been some time since she had seen him, but he looked well.
"This is an informal visit, Your Eminence."
She had never seen anyone quite brush aside the Cardinal like that, and something about it gave her a little thrill of pleasure, however guilty she felt for it.
And then she found herself meeting Aramis' eyes, and quickly glanced down at her hands.
"Your Majesty," the priest bowed, and Anne looked him over, frowning in confusion. She thought she recognized him, and yet she could not say from where.
The Cardinal spoke before she had figured it out. "Father Luca Sastini." He turned to the King and Queen. "Luca and I are old friends. We were at the seminary together."
"Sastini?" Louis repeated, apparently recognizing the name before she did. "Aren't you that Jesuit priest who wrote that terrible pamphlet?"
Sastini gave an awkward smile, and Anne bit the inside of her cheek, suddenly remembering all too clearly. Louis had ranted about it for some weeks after it had reached France.
"What did it say?"
"Well, if I remember correctly, it was an argument for the Pope's absolute authority over national rulers in all matters, both spiritual and temporal. Any leader who defied him could be legally overthrown and even killed, with the papal blessing."
"That's the one." Louis snapped his fingers, stepping down from the throne to frown at Sastini. "It's just as well my people can't read, or they might get ideas."
"My apologies for any offence," Sastini said gruffly.
"I trust your...time in Paris will be pleasant, however brief it may be."
It was a dismissal, and the Cardinal quickly spoke up.
"Your Majesty, a young woman, Fleur Baudin, has gone missing," Treville announced then, "a friend of the girl who died this morning. We have reason to believe the Comtesse de Larroque may know something of her whereabouts."
Louis blinked at him, sitting down.
"What makes you say so?" Anne asked.
"She regularly attended the Comtesse's salon, and seems enthralled by her."
"That's very, very shocking. We can't have the Comtesse abducting young women and spiriting them away to her boudoir," Louis murmured, though Anne could tell from the way his lips twitched that he was only joking.
Then, when it seemed no one else had found his humor, "Whatever are you implying, Cardinal?"
"There have been ugly rumours, Your Majesty. It's all scurrilous nonsense, I'm sure."
Anne's eyes narrowed. It was not like the Cardinal, after all, to become unduly concerned with the welfare of random peasant women. He had reprimanded her for it often enough, much preferring the bigger picture.
She just did not see how a young peasant woman fit into any picture of the Cardinal's creation, but she did see how Ninon de Larroque might.
"And Ninon is so very pretty, I could listen to her nonsense all day," Louis murmured dreamily, and Anne bit back a sigh. "Handle the matter discreetly. The Comtesse is from a very distinguished family. I don't want her upset unduly."
The Cardinal dipped his head. "You are too generous, Your Majesty."
"Yes, I know." Louis sighed. "It is a weakness."
Anne had heard about the attack on the Comtesse's home the night prior, had hardly been able to believe her ears when Treville reported it to the King, and the Cardinal explained that there was strong evidence against her of...corrupt behavior, and that the girl they were looking for, Fleur, was there.
She could not quite believe that it had come this far.
"Four young women. In their nightwear. I can only speculate as to the horrors they have endured."
"The girls claim they were not coerced," Treville pointed out.
"Then why lock them in a secret chamber?" The Cardinal countered, features tightening.
Anne watched him carefully.
Whatever the Cardinal was doing, he was desperate.
"What will happen to these poor children?" Anne asked then, remembering herself.
"They will be returned to their families as soon as possible."
"And the Comtesse?" Louis asked, voice almost tremulous.
"She will be held at the Monastery of the Holy Cross, awaiting trial," The Cardinal said calmly, and Anne closed her eyes, lost in thought.
"I detect the foul stench of witchcraft in all this," Sastini murmured.
Louis snorted at that. "The Comtesse de Larroque, a witch? How marvellous! Can she fly on a broomstick? Make love potions?"
Treville smirked, and Anne hid a smile.
Sastini's eyes narrowed. "Your Majesty is joking, but Satan is real and his female familiars are everywhere amongst us. Evil must be extinguished wherever it is detected. Rome will be following these events with great interest."
He stalked from the room then, after one telling glance at the Cardinal.
"What a wonderfully unpleasant little man," Louis smirked, as the man left.
"Witchcraft? What nonsense!" Anne laughed with him. She was a devout woman, of course, but Father Sastini's accusations seemed to her to stink of the dark ages, rather than the enlightened world in which everyone else lived. And she had heard such rumors about Ninon before, but knew that they stemmed only from the old belief that women of her age should be wed and birthing children, rather than trying to make it in the harsh world on her own.
"I'm sure witches are supposed to be ugly. The Comtesse doesn't have any warts, does she?" Louis stage-whispered.
Anne was left then with the puzzling conundrum of whether to laugh or sigh, at those words. "I do not think so, Your Majesty."
Louis nodded. "Just as I thought. She cannot be a witch."
"Then I am sure Justice will prevail," Anne said quietly. "The Cardinal has only your best interests at heart, Your Majesty."
A lie, any day, but it would not suit her interests to look as though she was against the Cardinal, whatever he was planning.
Anne was not invited to the trial, for she was a woman even if she was also the queen, and the subjects discussed during the trial were rumored to be sensitive ones, but she did show her support for Ninon, however little she could give of it, by coming to the church where she was being tried, even if she could not enter it while the trial happened.
From what she had heard, from one of the guards with whom she had always endeavored to be friendly, it had been an eventful trial indeed. Not the least because of the Cardinal's fainting at the end of it, because of what many assumed was poison.
"Is he still alive?" she asked, in some surprise.
The guard shrugged. "I do not know, Your Majesty. He was taken away quickly, and it was only further evidence that the Lady Ninon was a witch."
Anne sighed. "What nonsense this all is." She glanced behind the guard, noticing Aramis, and then nodded to her informant as she started forward. "You're dismissed, soldier."
He dipped his head. "Your Majesty."
She saw Aramis looking at her, and knew that she should continue walking, that stopping him would only seal her fate all the more, but she could not help herself.
"The Cardinal," she said softly, "Will he live?"
Aramis stepped closer, giving her a silent shrug.
Anne nodded. "He's been no friend to the Musketeers," she acknowledged. And no true friend to her, for, while she had once counted him as a friend, he had not been so since Marie de Medici had left Paris.
"We are all servants of France, Your Majesty," Aramis said softly.
Anne had watched as the crucifix she had given to her musketeer glinted around Ninon's neck, when she was led from the church to her cells, a feeling rather like anger bubbling up inside of her, though she knew it was ridiculous. First of all, he was not her musketeer, and, even if he was, solely due to the times he had saved her life, he was perfectly able to do as he wished with the rosary, as she had given it to him with no expectation of his returning it.
Still, it felt...felt rather like a betrayal, foolish and silly as it seemed.
"I did not expect to find my gift to you around the Comtesse's neck." She swallowed, speaking before he could, not quite wanting to hear the words he might say. "Is Ninon your lover? She is...beautiful."
She noticed that he looked rather amused at the words, and attempted to force down her ire when he finally responded. "She is good woman facing a hideous death. I...I only wanted to comfort her."
She swallowed, feeling all the more foolish, then. "Forgive me. Your compassion does you credit."
She stepped away then, before she further humiliated herself.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," he said quietly behind her, and Anne pretended that she hadn't heard.
"I cannot believe that she was truly burned as a witch," Louis murmured mournfully over a game of chess a few days later, and moved his pawn into a position from which Anne could have easily stolen his queen.
She didn't, though.
Anne swallowed, reaching up to her throat instinctively. "I as well. That poor woman."
"Yes. Well. At least that weasel of a little man from Rome is gone. The Cardinal should be pleased that she was unmarried and lacked family, for her funds will now revert to the Crown," Louis said with a sigh, and then turned back to his attendants, who were just leaving toward the gardens, where she understood he wished to play some new English gentleman's sport she had never heard of.
Anne sighed as well, though for another reason. She doubted her husband would even think of Ninon de Larroque again, the poor woman, now that she was dead.
She wondered if anyone would even remember her.
"Caroline," she said to her lady, once they were again alone, "Find out what is to become of the school that the Lady Ninon was running, before she was...killed. I am sure that she would not want it to go to waste, as she spent her whole life there."
Caroline curtseyed. "Of course, Your Majesty."
Caroline returned to her several hours later, just before the supper that the King, filled with exuberance after his successful game, had invited her to.
Of course the Cardinal had gotten there first.
Anne could not say that she was surprised, for she had seen the relish with which the Cardinal had condemned that poor woman, and knew that Ninon's fortune was vast, with she being the only inheritor. Anne should have been able to put two and two together long before now.
Which made her angry, as she ate the steaming sole that had been prepared, sitting alongside the Cardinal and across from her husband the King at a meal that she had thought they would eat alone.
"Tell me, Cardinal, what has become of Lady de Larroque's possessions?" Anne asked with false sweetness, turning to the man. "Her school?"
The Cardinal snorted. "That disgusting excuse for a school in which the lady indoctrinated the young and impressionable girls of Paris has been put to better uses. It was sold to a duke, who will live in it, once it has been purged of the many vices which took place there. And the possessions of the lady in question have been handed over to the church."
Anne raised a brow. "I see that you are wearing a new cloak, Cardinal."
If he could get away with glaring at her in front of the king, Anne had no doubt that he would. Instead, the Cardinal speared his next piece of fish with particular aggression, and Louis steered the conversation into safer waters by asking about the Cardinal's Red Guard, and how they might shape up against the Musketeers.
A/N: As the Cardinal went to all of that trouble to fake Ninon's death, I'm going with the assumption that even the King and Queen were duped into believing that she had died, as well. I'm sorry for how long this update took, but I hope you enjoyed, and the next one will be out much sooner.