Chapter Six: Clouds Closing In

12 March, 1794

Estelle was playing cards in the kitchen with Rita when Yuri walked in.

"Yo, Estelle. You've got a visitor."

"Eh? A… visitor?" The only people who knew where she was already lived here.

"Yeah, some rich German kid called Ioder."

She dropped her hand of cards. "Ioder?" She leapt to her feet and ran into the front sitting room, where a young man stood with his hands behind his back, looking around at the dingy furnishing. Estelle suddenly felt self-conscious about her living conditions. She'd lived in the life of a low-class commoner for so long that seeing Ioder in his richly embroidered coat gave her a sense of awe. It was hard to believe that not so long ago, she'd lived like that, too.

"Ioder! What are you doing here?" She threw herself at him and squeezed him against her chest. She breathed in a whiff of lavender from his cologne and wondered if he was put off by the smell of kitchen grease and sweat that permeated Estelle's life at Rue du Ciel.

Ioder eased himself away from her. "It's good to see you again, Estellise."

"When did you get here?" They'd switched to German, so Yuri and Rita stood by the door and watched in befuddlement. "How? Why? Oh, I have so many questions!"

"Calm down, Estellise." Ioder smiled at her and didn't say anything about her simple blue dress or unwashed hair. He'd always been a friend to her, and was one of the few people she'd kept in contact with after moving to France.

"What's going on?" Rita asked. "Who's this guy?"

Estelle turned around and pulled Ioder toward her friends. She switched back to French for Yuri and Rita's benefit. "This is Ioder, my second cousin from Saxony. We used to play together when I was a little girl."

Ioder nodded in greeting. "Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for welcoming me into your home."

Yuri shrugged. "Sorry it's not a palace up to your standards."

"Come sit down in the kitchen." Estelle pulled him back to the table. "Can I get you some tea?"

"That's quite all right, thank you."

Yuri and Rita joined them at the table and Yuri said, "So, Ioder, tell Estelle about your plan."

"Plan?" Estelle cocked her head.

Ioder folded his hands on the table. "I've been following the news from France quite intently, of course. All of Europe has."

"Oh, yeah?" Yuri leaned back and folded his hands. "I bet it's all very exciting from the outside."

"Interesting, to be sure," Ioder said. "Truth be told, I'm not supposed to be here."

Rita rolled her eyes. "Duh. You're only at war with us."

"Oh, yes." Estelle frowned at him. "Did you have any trouble getting here? It must have been so dangerous."

Ioder smiled. "I didn't tell my parents I was coming, certainly. I came alone, with only a driver. I heard that the royal family had been arrested, but that Estellise had escaped. You've been the talk of the court throughout the Holy Roman Empire, Estellise." He reached over to pat her hand. "After King Louis and Marie Antoinette were executed, I knew it wouldn't be safe for you to remain in France."

"Well all know that," Rita said. "That's why she's in hiding with us."

Estelle's eyes drifted to the ceiling, toward Flynn. She knew very well that she was in danger here, and that she put her companions in danger, too. The problem was that none of them had the money to fund an emigration from France, and that attempting to flee might be more dangerous than staying put and hoping things blew over eventually.

"I know you would have had difficulty getting out on your own. That's why I've been arranging passage for you on a ship bound for London."

Estelle gasped while her friends turned their eyes on her. "You've… what?"

Ioder nodded. "I know a women from Dresden who married an aristocrat in Britain. Sodia has agreed to meet you at the port in London and take you to her estate in the countryside. Her husband has a trade ship departing from Calais, which will take you as a passenger. Of course, there is also the option to return to Dresden with me. I thought, though, that you would prefer to remain off the grid rather than throw yourself back into the politics of the Holy Roman Empire. I fear that you would be little more than a pawn in the Empire, and I'm especially worried about the Emperor agreeing to hand you over to the new French Republic as part of the inevitable peace treaty when this all calms down."

"That's… probably true." When her parents died, she'd been passed off to her uncle. Now that her aunt and uncle had been killed, who knew where she'd be passed off to next. The Holy Roman Emperor was Antoinette's brother; would he resent her for escaping the Tuileries when Antoinette didn't? Who would be in charge of her? Who would arrange her inevitable marriage? The past year and a half on Rue du Ciel had been the most liberating period of her life and she hesitated going back into another gilded cage.

But then… did she want to go to England? "I… I'm not sure, Ioder. I really, really appreciate you arranging this for me, but… the thing is…. Do you remember the man I told you about in my letters?"

Ioder nodded. "Yes, that's actually how I found you here. I remembered that you said you knew a Flynn Scifo who worked at a tavern called La Comète, so I tracked down the establishment hoping he could help me find you. Is he here?"

Yuri and Rita exchanged glances while Estelle turned her gaze to her hands. Estelle took it upon herself to explain. "Flynn… is upstairs. He was living here with us until last November…." She summarized as quickly as she could, touching on the bare bones of the story, even if not the details.

Ioder's expression grew grave while she spoke, and when she finished, he nodded solemnly. "I see. I feel more certain than before that I made the right decision in working to evacuate you from France."

"Yes, but… I just don't know if I want to leave. I know things are rocky between me and Flynn right now, but I don't know if I feel comfortable leaving him."

"He could go with you," Ioder said. "I'm sure Sodia wouldn't be averse to a second guest."

Yuri frowned. "That would require him to want to run away with Estelle, and right now that's…."

Estelle hung her head. "Unlikely."

"This complicates matters. The ship departs in one week from Calais. Sodia is aware that your departure is not confirmed so she won't be surprised if you don't come in, but her husband isn't planning to send any more ships to France until the fighting settles down. The borders are only going to get more difficult to cross as the fighting gets worse. This may be your only chance to leave France."

Rita crossed her arms. "Who says she wants to leave France?"

"Well, Estelle?" Yuri looked to her. "What do you want to do?"

All eyes were on her and Estelle fiddled her fingers. "Um - um - I don't know." If she left, she would be safe. She could live freely without fear of being recognized and executed at any minute. In England, she could stay out of the web of European politics by keeping her head down and continuing to live as a commoner. But if she left now… she might never see Flynn again, or any of her other friends. She could say she'd come back to Paris when it was safe, but that might never happen. "I think… I think I'll have to consider this."

"I understand. This is a major decision. It will take about three days to reach Calais from here if we take the back roads to avoid detection so you have a few days to decide."

"Thank you for the offer, Ioder. Really, it means so much to me that you've gone to such trouble to help me."

"I'll be staying at a hotel in the city. Let me know when you've decided."

12 March, 1794

Once again, Flynn woke up in a cold sweat. He shivered and rubbed his eyes with his palms, determined to wipe away tears. Never mind putting all of this behind him, he'd be happy to just sleep through the night without revisiting the Conciergerie. He hadn't had a decent sleep since November. Flynn yawned and rolled over to take pressure off the lashes on his back.

Karol sat on his own bed and quickly looked away when Flynn noticed him. It wasn't fast enough to hide his worried expression.

"Good morning."

Karol folded the pages of the book on his lap. "G-good morning."

Karol wasn't just awkward about being caught staring; he looked actually frightened. Flynn had a sinking feeling he knew what had prompted it. He closed his eyes for a second and let out a breath. "Was I talking in my sleep?"

"Er… yeah."

"Dare I ask what I said?"

"Uh…." Karol suddenly became highly intrigued by his fingernails. "Well, most of it was in Italian, so I don't really know. I think just… a lot of begging and crying."

Flynn's gaze fixed on the ceiling. It was embarrassing to think of Karol listening to his pleading. It was bad enough that Cumore had seen him at his lowest; now he had to go scaring the kid. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok. Was it, um, a bad nightmare? I mean - I mean a worse than usual nightmare?"

Flynn considered this, and then shook his head. "Not especially. I was dreaming about thumbscrews." And sitting in a chair with his wrist lashed to the arm, unable to pull away as the iron clamps bit into his fingers and, one-by-one, turned his hands into the mangled mess he had now. All in all, not the worst thing he could dream about.

Obviously this hadn't pacified Karol. It occurred to Flynn that his perspective on what was a normal amount of trauma might have been skewed. Karol fiddled with his hands. "Do you… uh… want to talk about it?"

Flynn had been wondering about this since he got back. One one hand, he felt the urge to sit his friends down and tell them every detail so that at least they wouldn't be festering in his head. On the other, the humiliation of lying on the ground, crying and broken, and pleading to a bastard like Cumore was almost as bad as the physical pain, and he couldn't bear the thought of his friends knowing any more about that than they had to. "Not really."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not unless you can magically make me walk again." Flynn regretted his tone as soon as he finished. Karol was just trying to help, and there was no reason to snap at him. Flynn let out a breath. "I'm sorry, Karol. I know I've been a pretty terrible roommate for the last month."

"What? No, uh, it's ok. I mean, I understand. You've obviously had a lot to deal with."

Flynn muttered, "Isn't that the truth…."

"Hey, uh, what if you tried walking? I mean, you haven't tried, have you?"

"I haven't." The only time he'd left bed was to fall off it.

"Well… it's been a month, right? Maybe you could start trying to take a few steps. Build up your strength slowly, you know?"

That might work. He was afraid that trying to walk would be too painful, but he was also afraid of how vulnerable he felt lying here and knowing he was helpless to run if anyone came after him. Getting on his feet again would do wonders for his peace of mind. "All right. I'll try."

Karol left his bed and held out his hands for Flynn. "Here, you can lean on me."

The first step was just to get upright in bed. His ribs were healing and no longer stabbed him with every breath, but the lashes and burns the covered his torso still ached as he forced his body up. Flynn swung his legs over the side of the bed and rested his bare feet - covered in taut, shiny, and rough skin from the scars - on the floorboards. Flynn reached for Karol's hands and then pushed, clamping his teeth as knives dug into his legs. Upright, he immediately fell forward and leaned on Karol's shoulders as fires ignited in every joint. Even leaning didn't help too much, because his arms were equally injured and his elbows and shoulders cried out.

"Good!" Karol held Flynn's arms and moved back, giving Flynn room to try stepping forward.

Flynn certainly didn't feel 'good' as his muscles trembled and his foot slid forward. Without Karol to lean on, there was no way he'd be upright. The aches that had been fading for the past month all spiked and begged his attention. But, he was upright, and Flynn clung to that piece of hope. He was standing at least partially under his own strength, which gave him hope that he would be able to walk under his own power in the coming months.

When the door suddenly opened, he jerked toward it with a flash of anxiety. This caused him to lose his balance and he toppled to the ground with a thud and a grunt.

"Flynn!" Estelle ran to him.

Flynn looked up and his heart clenched when he saw her. For a second, all he could hear was the crack of a whip and a voice ringing in his ears: where is she? When she reached for him, Flynn slapped her hands away.

(Why did you do that? She's trying to help. She -)

-had caused this. Frustratingly, Flynn felt he was losing his grip more now than he had in the Conciergerie, because he'd been so certain about the basic facts of life in there. Now that he was out and had so much more to think about, things were getting very confusing. It had been easy to understand that he was being tortured because of Estelle and therefor Estelle was an awful person when he'd known his future held nothing but torture day in and day out until they executed him. Now that she was actually here and trying hard to make him not be in pain, the clear distinctions of good and bad were becoming muddled.

Yuri was the one who helped him up. Estelle hung back and let Yuri half-carry Flynn back to the bed. Flynn sat on the edge of the mattress, rubbing his aching knees with his palms.

"I'm sorry!" Karol directed this at Yuri and Estelle. "I was just trying to help!"

"It's fine," Yuri said. "It's good for you to get out of bed, I think. How do you feel, Flynn?"

Every joint was on fire, breathing sent dull throbs through his chest, his feet prickled and stung, and a hundred minor injuries blurred in the background. "I've felt worse." His eyes kept drifting to Estelle, but he couldn't figure out if he wanted her to stay or get out.

"Ok, Flynn." Yuri put his hands on his waist and stood before him. "We need to talk to you about something. Can you listen to Estelle for a few minutes?"

Flynn glanced at her again and something thrummed in his chest. He wasn't sure if he was comfortable with her presence, but he knew how pathetic he must look when he freaked out over her merely being in the same room. "It's fine."

Estelle came a little closer. With her hands folded in front of her, she said, "Flynn… my cousin Ioder came to speak to me today. Do you remember me mentioning him?"

He nodded once.

"He said that he can help me get to England, where I will be safe from the revolution."

Flynn's eyes remained fixed on the floor, but anger gushed through him, hot and thick. She's going to England where she'll be safe and sound. I spent three months in a dungeon where every day they broke me in new and exciting ways until I wanted to die but she is going to England for protection. What did she ever do to deserve this? Why does she get to be coddled and protected when I had to endure so much? It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair - I should be the one who got shuttled off to safety before they could do all those things to me.

"I haven't decided yet if I'm going to go."

Not decided? She has such a blissful life that she can't even decide if she wants to be protected from people like Cumore. She has no idea what I went through. She's considering throwing away an escape I would have killed for.

"I'm worried about leaving my friends behind… about you. Ioder said I can take you with me, if you wanted."

Take me? For what purpose? So I can escape the Committee of Public Safety? Too FUCKING LATE. I already have a plan for protection: I'm gonna carry a knife everywhere and if it even looks like they're gonna arrest me again, I'll slit my throat so that I never, ever, have to go through that again. You can't protect me from something I've already been through. I don't want to go to goddamn England when I have the perfectly nice option of death here in France.

"If I leave, I might never see you again."

Good.

(It's not good; you'll be sad if you never see her again.)

Why the hell would I?

(Because you-)

Don't fucking say it.

"So I wanted to ask you, Flynn…. If you want me to stay, I will. If you want to come with me, you can. So… what do you think?"

(You're so stupid. You say you want her as far away from you as possible, but you're trembling at the notion of never seeing her again.)

That's not true. I'm shaking because I'm angry. Because she gets to run away and I didn't.

(Then why do you feel so fearful at the prospect of her staying in Paris?)

Because I want her far away!

(Where she's safe.)

No.

Flynn turned his face to the window. "Why should I care where you go?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her deflate. Good; she shouldn't' stay here because of him. It would be better if she left the country and went somewhere far away from Robespierre and the revolution so she wouldn't suf-

Flynn pushed those thoughts away.

Estelle bowed her head. "I see. Thank you, Flynn."

She left, but Yuri and Karol remained. Flynn glared at them. "Are you going to tell me I should be throwing myself at her feet?"

Yuri shook his head, looking disappointed. "Do you even remember why you were arrested in the first place?"

Flynn stubbornly stared at the wall. "I helped her. I was dumb."

Karol stomped his feet. "You helped her for a reason, though!"

"I'm getting pretty tired of this, Flynn. You're my friend and I want to support you, but Estelle is also my friend and I'm sick of seeing you hurt her like this."

Fresh anger flashed. "I hurt her? Which of us got set on fire?!"

Yuri folded his arms. "I know you were hurt. I get it, and I'm sorry. But it doesn't give you the right to be a jerk to someone who's only trying to help you."

"You don't 'get it'," Flynn snarled. How could any of them ever 'get it'? Even if he explained in detail, they would never understand. And then he'd had the gall to say 'I'm sorry'. 'Sorry you were tortured, Flynn - sucks to be you, right?'. How dare they tell him who he could and could not be rude to. If he wanted to be prickly toward the person who'd caused all his suffering, he damn well would be! They were lucky he'd just been unfriendly, rather than actually striking her so she could feel even an ounce of the pain he'd endured for her!

(You wouldn't have, though, because there's a reason you endured it for her in the first place.)

Shut the hell up!

"Why did you rescue Estelle from the Tuileries?" Yuri demanded.

(Yeah, why did you?)

I don't have to answer any question I don't want to think about. And he didn't want to think about this one.

(Because you know-)

Stop.

(Why won't you just admit it?)

Because… because….

"Why can't you just admit it?" Yuri now, rather than the voice in the back of his head.

Because… he just… he…

"If you're right," Flynn mumbled to the floor, "if I did it because I… knowingly for her…. Then I did it to myself, didn't I?"

Karol creased his brow. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

Flynn dug his crippled fingers into his knees as much as he could. "Why would I do that? Why would I knowingly and willingly make myself an enemy of the republic? If it was my choice to be t-tortured to protect her… then it's my fault. I did this to myself. I could have prevented it, and I didn't, and now my whole life is ruined and I have only myself to blame."

Those words were met by silence until Yuri sighed and plopped onto the bed beside him. "You idiot. It's not your fault at all. The blame lies solely with Cumore and the rest of the fucked up revolution."

"Sure."

"Do you want to know why you rescued her?"

Flynn said nothing.

"Estelle told me about this. See if this rings a bell."

27 June, 1791

When King Louis XIV moved to Versailles over a century before, he left behind a palace in the heart of Paris. This was the Tuileries, an imposing, blocky building all pillars and tall windows sitting on the bank of the Seine. Estelle had visited it a few times in the past, and recalled evenings she thought of as mini-vacations when she and Antoinette spent the night there after attending an opera in the city. She certainly had never expect to live there full-time, and she couldn't say she enjoyed it half as much as the every-now-and-then stays from the past.

For one, the palace was smaller but contained just as many servants and courtiers, making everything seemed cramped. The garden was a pale imitation of the splendour of the one at Versailles, and the busy city streets just beyond the windows made it difficult to sleep at night when she was used to the serenity of the countryside. There was also the disconcerting feeling that she was being watched at all times, and the knowledge that it wasn't just her uncle's will or court politics keeping her trapped inside, but the threat of an entire city.

They'd moved here in October, after an angry mob had marched all the way to Versailles and demanded they return to Paris. Estelle had always gotten the sense that they were somewhat prisoners after that, but the feeling had only increased now that they'd returned from the failed attempt to flee to Montmedy fortress near the German border. The National Guard - what they were calling the militia these days - had made it very clear that they weren't to leave the palace without permission these days.

She was, at least, allowed in the courtyard. As always, her mood perked up considerably when she saw Flynn walking through the stone arch of the gate that led to the street and the square separating them from the Louvre. When Flynn reached her, he bowed and kissed her hand. They looked around to see who was watching them, and when they confirmed that no one was paying them attention, they walked a little closer together into the building. His arm brushed against hers as they walked beneath the vaulted wooden ceiling and chandelier of the main entrance hall. This was the closest that they ever got to each other ever since they'd snuck away to Antoinette's library two years ago.

"How are you?" Flynn asked as they wandered down a hall. Polished wooden panels towered over them, broken up by oil paintings of battles or mythology. The building was rich and dark - a far cry from the white and gold splendour of Versailles. "You weren't harmed, were you?"

"Oh! No, not at all! Don't worry about me." Her whole family had been escorted back to Paris under guard. Estelle was used to seeing armed guards around her, but it was a peculiar feeling to know they were guarding against her rather than for her. "I'm more frustrated than anything. We got as far as Varennes and then a postmaster of all things recognized my uncle based on stamps with his face! I was really excited to visit the fortress."

Flynn looked down with a slight smile. "Is that what you're most disappointed about? Not visiting the fortress?"

Estelle pouted. "Not entirely! Um, ok, I was excited to see the fortress, but I also just… I wanted to get away from Paris, you know?"

"I can't say I disagree with that," Flynn said mildly. "It's like living in the eye of the storm here."

"Actually, no. I read that the eye of the storm is actually really calm and peaceful while the disaster swirls around it."

"I see! I stand corrected."

The reached a drawing room at the end of the hall and Estelle wandered to the window. She pushed the red velvet curtains aside and peered across the courtyard toward the Louvre. "So Paris isn't like living in the eye of the storm at all. It's like living right in the middle of a blizzard with the wind howling at all sides." Flynn came up behind her and she felt his warmth against her back. He was so close they were almost touching… but not quite. "Flynn… I… I'm kind of scared, if I'm being honest."

"Of the direction the country is taking?"

"I remember a couple of years ago, when the Bastille was broken into and the militia was formed. When my uncle was told about it, he looked very worried and he asked, 'is it a revolt?'. The duke who had informed him said, 'no, sire, it is a revolution.' That's when I realized just how big this was getting. I could tell even then how concerned my uncle was, and things keep getting worse and worse." Her fingers closed tighter around the curtain. "Because a revolution is different from reform, right? A revolution is about abandoning one thing in order to bring in something new, and I'm pretty sure the thing France is trying to abandon is me. Well, my family."

"I… can't say you're incorrect." Flynn spoke slowly, obviously trying not to alarm her. "I have heard people call for the abolition of the monarchy, and the king's attempted flight to Montmedy has only made things worse, I fear. I think you're wise to keep alert of the changing tides, though at this point I doubt you are in any significant danger."

Estelle's heart tremored at hearing her fears confirmed, but she appreciated that he didn't try to pacify her with lies. Whenever she expressed doubts or fears, someone in the court was always quick to assure her it wasn't for her to worry about and to put her faith in the king and all would be well. "I can feel the mood of the country turning against us. The people were so angry when we returned to Paris the other day - shouting and jeering. I always knew that there were some people in the country who hated the royal family by principle, but it feels like more and more people want us dead, and it's reaching a tipping point where now the majority of the country wants me dead. It's… disconcerting."

"I don't know if this will make you feel better, but I don't think anyone wants you dead, specifically."

She sighed. "No. Just my aunt and uncle. I'm too insignificant to wish death upon."

"You're not insignificant." His fingers brushed the back of her hands. "Not to me, at least."

She couldn't help smiling. "But perhaps I would be better off being insignificant. I really am scared, Flynn. Things are heating up and I feel like I'm standing at the top of a tower with an angry mob hacking away at the supports below. What happens if an angry mob comes here next time? They already forced us into house arrest in Paris, where else will they send us next time except to prison or death?"

Flynn stared out the window rather than at her, and Estelle knew he shared her fears.

"I can't tell you not to worry," he said carefully. "You certainly have much to worry about. For what it's worth, I swear to do what I can to protect you. I don't know what one man could do in the face of a mob, but I am a member of the National Guard so I'm not completely useless in a fight."

She turned to lean her hip against the windowsill and look up at him. "So you'd be my guardian angel?"

Flynn turned his head down to her. "You could almost say I'm protecting myself as well as you. It would greatly grieve me to see you come to harm. So whatever influence I can push in the National Guard, or if that fails, whatever I can do individually to defend you from a riot, I will do."

"Thank you, Flynn." As she had so many times before, Estelle struggled with the urge to reach for him, hold his hand, kiss his cheek, press herself against his chest. At this point, the court was far too unstable to withstand the scandal that would cause if they were seen. "I really wish there was something I could do for you. I hate feeling like a burden on you."

"I nearly died of boredom this morning while sitting through a lecture, yet here I am resurrected from a conversation with you. I can thank you for that, at least."

Estelle giggled. "I hardly think that's comparable."

Flynn looked around the room and down the adjoining halls to make sure no one was looking. He kissed his fingers, then rested them gently on her cheek. "Really, cara mia, I just enjoy being with you. These last few years when you invited me into your world of palaces and balls have been like a dream. I haven't felt this happy since I left Corsica. Eventually, the revolution will come to an end. Wherever we are then, you can pay me back with your continued company."

The sound of approaching footsteps caused him to yank his hand back and clasp them together. Estelle turned in time to see her uncle enter the drawing room, followed by a small train of courtiers and servants. Flynn stiffened and dropped his head, eyes fixed on the floor.

"Ah. Estelle."

"Good afternoon, Uncle." Estelle curtsied and smiled, which he didn't return. Louis so rarely smiled these days.

"Who is…? Oh, is this the Italian lawyer you've so often mentioned?"

Estelle nodded. "Yes, Flynn Scifo." She considered correcting, 'Corsican law student,' but decided it wasn't worth the effort.

"I see. Well, Flynn Scifo, my niece speaks quite highly of you. You are not a member of the aristocracy, correct?"

Flynn, who had never been addressed by a king before and was clearly finding it hard to breathe, continued looking at the floor as he said, "Th-that is correct, Votre Majesté."

"Hm. With the way things are, the future may be looking brighter for you than me. What strange times."

Flynn glanced sideways at Estelle and scrambled to think of a response. "Uh - um - i-indeed, sire."

"Very well. Have a nice afternoon, Estelle."

"You too!" she chirped, though she had a feeling nothing Louis had to deal with today would be pleasant.

As he left, she heard him mutter, "At least some people still know how to treat royalty."

12 March, 1794

Estelle sat on her bed and rested her chin on her arms as she leaned on the windowsill. She'd pushed the window open to let the chilly air shock her eyes out of crying. She hadn't cried since the day Flynn arrived, and she was determined not to. Below, a stray cat prowled the street, delicately stepping around pools of muddy water as the snow melted into the dirt road.

Their house here was dirty, cold, and crowded. They all worked hard to keep La Comète running and her fingers were frequently pruned from washing dishes. Life here was so different from her childhood of castles and palaces, but… it was homey. She loved the friends she'd made here, and a simple life wasn't so bad. She would miss Yuri, and Rita, and everyone else if she went to England, and that wasn't even starting on the mess with Flynn. He had made it very clear that he had no interest in going to England with her, and she'd watched his face while she'd explained the situation and seen how little he cared if she left and never came back. He probably wished for her to leave and never see him again.

That thought made her have to fight off tears again. She'd hoped that Flynn's rejection of her would be short-lived, but it had been a month now and he still wanted nothing to do with her. Perhaps this would be a permanent situation. It was just so… so frustrating. Flynn's feeling for her had been so strong, they led him down a path to ultimately forgetting them. Estelle trailed a finger through snow built up in the corner of the window. She liked this house, but if Flynn was going to stay here - and of course he would; he was in no shape to move out - perhaps it would be better for both of them if she left and moved on.

Someone knocked on the door with a few sharp raps. Even this was so different from Versailles, where knocking was considered uncouth and the proper thing to do was scratch a door with your pinkie until the person inside heard you. Estelle had never liked that custom, because it reminded her of being a cat. "Come in."

It was Yuri. "How you holding up?"

Estelle took a deep breath of frigid air to clear her hair and then twisted around. "I'm all right, really."

"So… have you decided yet what you want to do?"

"I… no." She studied her bedspread. "I'm really torn. I want to stay here, with Flynn and the others and you, too. But, maybe Flynn would be better off if I left him alone."

"Only you can decide. Don't base it entirely on what Flynn wants, though. He's still not in his right mind, remember. I just had a talk with him about why he's so determine to blame you, and he said it's because if he doesn't, he'd have to blame himself for being tortured."

Estelle lifted her head and dropped her chin. "He - what? Oh, no, how can he think that? How could he ever blame himself for the things the Committee did to him?" She leapt to her feet. "I need to tell him-"

Yuri grabbed her shoulders before she could rush out the door. "Whoa, slow down. What do you think you're going to say to him that I didn't?"

"I… he…." She slumped in his grip. "I don't know."

"Let's go for a walk and get some fresh air."

Twenty minutes later, the pair of them were strolling up the main street toward the river. Estelle realized it had been weeks since she'd left Rue du Ciel. In the past she'd gone out regularly to attend executions in case she saw Flynn, but now that they had him home, she only ever went between the house and La Comète. Spring was beginning to creep into the city, though it was early enough that the only sign was the roads turning brown with mud rather than white from snow. It was a relief to reach the cobbles on the main street.

"I'm going to try a new recipe at La Comète." Yuri had his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket because he hadn't bought mittens, and mud splattered the hem of his trousers. They hadn't mentioned Flynn since leaving the house, and Estelle enjoyed the break from her daily worries. "A kind of broccoli souffle. Cheap to make, but it looks fancy."

"That sounds nice. Hopefully it will draw in more customers, too."

"Yeah, that would be good. We're doing all right, though. I mean, considering the general state of the city, I can't really complain."

They paused when they reached Pont Neuf and Estelle leaned over the side to watch debris float through the green water. Not far upstream and on the other side of the bank, she could see a crowd of people gathered in the Place de la Révolution. Her heart sank as she wondered who was being executed today, and what the chances were that the victim had actually done anything warranting execution. Not wanting to stand here and listen to the distant cheers, she kept walking across the bridge.

She and Yuri turned once they were on the Île de la Cité. Estelle had loved coming to the island with Flynn during the year they'd spent together at Rue du Ciel. The city had been founded here back when it was little more than a medieval village and she could almost feel the history dug into the ground. It had lost its charm recently, though. She and Yuri drew to a stop when they walked past the front of the Conciergerie. It had once been a royal residence, but Estelle couldn't imagine happy memories like her ones from Versailles coming from this place. When she looked up at the stone towers, all she could picture were the scars that littered Flynn's body. Yuri stood silently beside her, no doubt thinking about the same thing.

Their reverie was broken by a snide voice. "And what are you two looking at?" The speaker was a thin man in the uniform of the Committee of General Security.

Yuri rested a hand on his hip. "Is looking a crime?"

To be honest, Estelle couldn't keep track of what was and wasn't a crime these days, so she'd rather Yuri not push his luck.

"Loitering outside a prison might be," the officer said. "And what is a healthy young man like yourself doing here, anyway?" He smiled like a cat closing in on a mouse. "Perhaps you should come with me and explain to the Tribunal why you didn't respond to the draft."

Yuri failed to fall into the role of cowering rodent. "I'm married. You'd have me abandon my wife? Leave her behind to run my business?"

The man's smile slipped. "Ah… true, women are not fit to operate businesses."

Estelle's lips cracked but she held back her indignant response. Luckily, the man wasn't looking at her because his eyes were fixed on Yuri's face.

"Don't I know you?"

Yuri shrugged. "Not that I can recall."

The man puffed his chest out a little. "I am Capitaine Cumore of the Committee of General Security. And you are?"

Estelle couldn't keep the shock off her face as her eyes whizzed to Cumore's. She'd never seen him before, but of course she knew his name. This was him, the man who'd taken Flynn away and orchestrated his suffering. It was all she could do not to slap him.

Unfortunately, Cumoe noticed her reaction as well. "Your little friend seems to be familiar with me." He peered around Yuri to inspect Estelle's face. "You also appear familiar… what's your name, mademoiselle?"

Estelle's lips parted before she knew what to say, but Yuri wrapped an arm around her shoulders and took over. "My name's Luc Gaumont, and this is my little sister Célia. We've heard of a Capitaine Cumore, the great commander in the Committee who's made so many arrests. She was just surprised to meet someone so legendary."

Estelle thought Yuri was laying it on a little thick, but Cumore lapped it up. "Ah, yes, I see, of course."

He still had his eyes on Estelle, though. She could feel them boring into her and she wondered if royalty was visible if you looked hard enough. She was very glad she'd bothered pinning her tricolour cockade to her hat today, just in case.

"Are you quite certain I've never met you before, though? I'm sure I've seen you. Come to think of it, you somewhat resemble Madame Royale…."

Yuri's arm tightened around her at the mention of her young cousin. "O-oh?" Estelle covered his mouth and giggled. "I've never heard that before. I'm quite sure we haven't met, though. I'm certain I would have remembered a man so handsome and renown as you."

This effectively distracted him from his train of thought. Thoroughly chuffed, Cumore nodded a few times. "That's perfectly understandable."

"Excuse us." Yuri began pulling Estelle away. "We need to be going. Thank you for your service to our country."

They left the street as quickly as they could without it looking like they were running away. As soon as they were around the corner, Yuri let go of Estelle's shoulders and she shook herself like a dog out of a river.

"That was him, wasn't it? The same Cumore Flynn mentions. The one who did all of that to him."

Yuri nodded, grim-faced. "It was, and honestly I wish you weren't here so I could give him a piece of my mind."

"You should have, anyway." She glared at the cobbles on their way down the island.

"Not with you here."

Estelle balled her hand into a fist. "Then I should have done it for you! He's so awful. I just want to punch him!" She smashed her fist into her palm to demonstrate. "Why are you laughing?!"

Yuri patted her back. "I'm not sure if Monsieur Cumore would find you all that intimidating. That was some smooth ass-kissing you gave him, though. Probably saved your neck."

Estelle wrinkled her nose at the memory. "I wish I hadn't. He's just so… ugh."

"Hey." Yuri rested a hand on her shoulder. "We beat him, didn't we? He was all set to execute Flynn, and then we rescued a whole cartload of prisoners from right under his nose. I bet he's still fuming about that."

"I… suppose that's something." They came out in a broad paved square and Estelle stopped to gaze up at the twin towers of Notre Dame. The doors were shut, and most people walked by without looking at it. "Yuri, do you think we can go in?"

Yuri surveyed the area, making sure Cumore was nowhere to be seen. "Probably. Let's not be too visible about it, though."

They meandered across the square to the far corner rather than making a beeline for the doors, and then stuck to the shadow of the cathedral as they skirted its front toward the entrance. When she stepped into the alcove in front of the centre door, she felt the eyes of every tiny angel carved into the stone looking down at her and wondered if the entire square was staring at her slipping into the door. She let out a breath of relief when Yuri shut the door behind himself and they were left alone in the cavernous hall. None of the torches had been lit, so the only light available was filtered through the massive stained glass panels high in the walls.

Yuri passed her and wandered down the aisle of wooden pews. He put a hand to his mouth and called, "Bonjour?!" The words bounced around the pillars and up to the domed ceiling far above. He turned back to her. "Looks like nobody's home."

Estelle didn't need to call out to feel the cathedral's emptiness. It was readily apparent from the statue of Lady Liberty sitting at an alter where the Virgin Mary ought to be, and wooden skeleton of beams that still sat at the front, where a fake mountain had been built last fall holding busts of philosophers. Her fingers trailed along the edge of the pews as she wandered down the aisle. The government said this was no longer a cathedral; it was a Temple of Reason, where they could worship a generic Supreme Being and the glory of logic. She'd read about the Festival of Reason last fall in horror - to think that such debauchery had taken place inside a church! It was heartbreaking to see such a beautiful building abandoned.

At the front of the church, Estelle sat on a pew. The view in front of her was a heartbreaking display of rejection and destruction, where the crosses had been torn down and statues broken. She shifted her gaze to her left, to the circular stained glass window made of gleaming blue and purple. At least the looters hadn't smashed the windows and their intricate depictions of biblical figures. Yuri came up behind her and leaned on the pew. "Did you ever come here?" Estelle asked without looking away from the window. "Before the revolution, I mean. When it was still a proper church."

"Nah. I was never big on the whole church scene."

"Really? Not at all?"

"I'm pretty sure my mother had me baptized when I was a baby, but that's about it. Why? Are you?"

"Hm… I went to the chapel every Sunday with my family. It was just what we did. The little chapel in the castle I grew up in, and then the chapel in Versailles. They were always beautiful, but I had read about the mighty cathedrals that took centuries to build and always wished to attend a service in one at least once, just to see it. This is my first time inside a great cathedral like this, and it's… ruined."

Yuri craned his neck to look around the deserted church. "Not too different from the rest of France, then."

She tilted her head back to look up at him. "Yuri, what do you think I should do?"

"About leaving? Tough choice. We'll miss you if you go, but I can't help thinking about Cumore just now. He came pretty close to recognizing you."

"I know. If he had, you would have been arrested and killed, too. In fact, he'd probably start torturing you to get you to tell him where Flynn is, so he can finish the job and behead all of us." She studied the hands folded in her lap. As long as she stayed in Paris, she was dangerous to all of her friends. If she was ever discovered, anyone who was caught sheltering her would be killed. This wasn't just about whether she was willing to risk it; she had her friends to consider, too.

Estelle gazed around the empty church. Not too long ago, the Catholic church had been one of the most powerful organizations in France, second only to the king. Now, it was as impotent as the ancien régime. Most of the statues of Judean kings that had once lined the front facade of Notre Dame had been torn down and beheaded - a grim reminder of what the revolutionaries wanted to do to anyone who represented the old regime. There was no longer a place in France for Catholic cathedrals or orphaned princesses. "Did you know," Estelle said idly, "that in almost every other church across the country, they took down the church bells and melted the brass to make cannons?"

Yuri snorted. "Everything you need to know about the state of France in one sentence. God, this country's a mess."

"I think…" Estelle spoke slowly as she put her thoughts into words, "that the general public has made it pretty clear that royalty is no longer welcome here. For a little while, Antoinette hoped that there would be a way to restore the old order, but I really don't see that happening now. And then, France isn't my country. I like it here, and I'm very fond of France, but I can't say that I feel a personal attachment to it. The only reasons I have for staying are, well… you guys." She looked up at Yuri, but he was silently letting her mull through this on her own. "I don't want to say goodbye to you or Rita or any of the others… or Flynn." Her voice caught for a second, but she powered on. "But I also don't want any of you to be hurt. If Cumore had recognized me today…." She shuddered and squeezed her eyes for a second, then pressed her fists to her forehead. "I just couldn't bear to see what happened to Flynn happen to you, too. As long as I'm with you, you're in danger. And as long as I'm at Rue du Ciel… Flynn isn't comfortable. I'm just causing problems for people, j-just like I caused Flynn to be-"

"Hey." Yuri grabbed her wrist and Estelle turned her eyes to his concerned face. "You didn't cause anything. It's not your fault that people want to kill you, and it's not your fault that Flynn wanted to protect you."

"I… right." She breathed deeply and rubbed her eyes - no more crying. Estelle forced herself to shift all the guilt she could onto Cumore.

"I won't tell you what to do, but don't base your decision on feeling like you're responsible for what happened to Flynn. They still would have arrested him even if you had left the country right after running away."

"Yes. You're right. But you will only arrested if you're caught with me, since no one knows you're involved yet. So if I stay, then it would be my fault. I can't let that happen. I can't put all of my friends in danger based on the silly hope that Flynn will snap out of it and run away with me soon enough."

"So, have you decided then?"

Estelle rose from the pew and ran her hands down her skirt. She let her eyes fall on the immaculate stained glass window, sitting protected from the destruction below. If Estelle stayed down here in the thick of the revolution, she - and everyone she cared about - would share the same fate as the smashed and beheaded statue of Mary. "Yes. I'm going to leave France."