Ten

Rumour Has It

A few days after Valjean's arrival in the compound, they welcomed another visitor. This time, the visit was planned, orchestrated by Bossuet, and it was a visit from one of their informants.

Cosette was informed of this by Courfeyrac as they waited in the kitchen for this informant to arrive.

"Enjolras asked them to gather information on why the King would want to marry his daughter," Courfeyrac explained. "Only one has responded."

That 'one' was named Paloma, and Courfeyrac had gone on to explain that she was Musichetta's maternal cousin. "She lives in the human world, like Musichetta did. She's a tattoo artist – owns her own shop – does normal tattoos for humans, magic ones for non-humans."

"Magic tattoos?" Cosette echoed.

"Oh, you know," Courfeyrac said, flapping a hand. "Protective ones, ones to bring luck, ones to take luck, although why anyone would want one of those I have no idea. She makes quite a lot of money from it, and she's popular with demons, and that means she hears a lot. But she's faithful to our cause."

"She was faithful to our cause," Bahorel grumbled, grating a lemon into a bowl of pale cream cake batter.

"She still is," Courfeyrac said, in a soothing tone, then in a lower voice he said to Cosette, "They used to see one another."

"Friends with benefits," Jehan chipped in. Bahorel shot him a murderous glance over his lemon.

"Bahorel's a bit bitter," Courfeyrac concluded. He spoke again, and dropped his voice even lower in volume. "Lemon cakes are her favourite."

"Shut –" Bahorel began, putting the lemon and the grater down on the side, but at that moment the door to the kitchen opened and Enjolras stepped in, accompanied by Combeferre, Joly, and Musichetta. The bruises on Musichetta's face had mostly faded away, and her cheeks were less swollen.

"Paloma isn't here yet?" she said, sounding disappointed.

"No," Courfeyrac said. "They'll probably be late."

"Bossuet was picking her up, of course they'll be late," Joly said, with affection in his tone.

After them came Feuilly and Marius, and then Éponine skulked in, looking bad-tempered but not as sickly as she had the last time Cosette had seen her. She sat on the stool farthest from the rest of them, and didn't try to participate in the conversation.

The last two to arrive were Valjean and Grantaire, murmuring to one another with serious expressions on their faces. Cosette gave them a hesitant smile as they approached, and didn't object when they sat on either side of her. That almost felt like the good old days – whenever they went anywhere as a trio, they would always flank her protectively.

"So who is this Paloma?" Grantaire asked. Courfeyrac filled him in, as he had Cosette. By the end of the explanation, Valjean was nodding.

"I've heard of her," he said. "Our paths have never crossed, however."

"I'm glad she got back in touch," Musichetta said. "I was worried about her, after what happened to me – her allegiance must have been noted by now..."

"Oh, you know me, I can always wriggle my way out of trouble," a warm voice said from the doorway, and then Musichetta was up and out of her chair and flinging herself at the newcomer.

When Musichetta pulled away, Cosette could finally see Paloma. She was shorter than Musichetta by a good few inches, with tightly curled hair the rich colour of muscovado sugar. Her skin was a touch lighter than Musichetta's. She had wide eyes, and a mouth with corners that were slightly upturned even when she wasn't actively smiling. Her muscular arms were covered in tattoos, but rather than being a themed sleeve, they were all small, individual tattoos. Cosette could see a golden key, a pale blue owl, a black-haired woman wearing a red swimsuit, a trio of lightning bolts, a tiger lily, the outline of a rabbit, an eye, the silhouette of a tree running up her forearm, and more. They spread down onto her hands, getting smaller and more delicate, and she could see some on the front of Paloma's neck as well, pale pink flowers twisting up towards her chin.

"So," she said, and now she was smiling properly, and looking right in Cosette's eyes. "You're new."

"I'm Cosette." Cosette nodded her head towards Grantaire. "This is Grantaire, and this is my father..."

"You can call me Valjean," her father said.

"I'm Paloma." She sniffed the air, and looked towards Bahorel. "Are you baking lemon cakes?"

Bahorel's shoulders were all stiff. He'd put the cake batter in the oven only a few minutes before Paloma had appeared in the doorway, and the kitchen had already filled with the lovely, warm, lemony scent of the cake baking.

"Yes," he said, then turned away, towards the sink, although he didn't actually do anything in the sink except brace his hands on the edge of it.

Paloma's eyebrows raised. She planted her hands on her hips. "Shall we get started?" she said, and then she took one of the free stools around the island, and then rested her elbows on the surface, cupping her face in her hand. "I have two pieces of news," she began. "Both are connected to Cosette over there."

"Did you find anything that we specifically asked you to?" Enjolras asked, in that brisk way of his that clearly hoped for a quick answer.

"Yes," Paloma said. "It's a rumour, bear that in mind, but apparently a seer has made a prophecy."

"A prophecy?" Combeferre eyebrows knitted together.

"Yep." Paloma brushed her hand through the curls around her ear, came to rest on the side of her neck. "Basically, the prophecy says that a queen of the King's blood will sit on the throne. The King has no children, apart from Cosette..."

Cosette felt sick. "Why would that mean he wants to marry me?" she asked.

Paloma shrugged. "No idea. It's just a rumour, at this point. No one knows the exact wording, you know? There could be more to it. You know seers, they're an enigmatic bunch."

"I don't know seers, actually," Cosette said, tears of frustration pricking at her eyes. "This is all new to me."

"Well, take it from me, seers are rarely straightforward people." Paloma heaved a heavy sigh. "They like to keep things as wrapped up as possible."

"That's a big generalisation," Jehan objected. "My great-great-grandmother was a seer, and she –"

"Yeah, it's a stereotype, but it's generally an accurate one," Paloma interrupted. "Besides, I know who the seer is."

Enjolras leaned towards her, eager. "Who is it?"

"You all know her," Paloma said. "It's Favourite."

Most of them groaned, and Valjean let out a small sigh. Cosette stared at him. "Do you know her?"

"Yes," Valjean said, his voice quiet and measured. "She worked in the Court at the same time I was there. She was nice enough, but...tricky."

"Tricky is too nice a word," Courfeyrac said, with uncharacteristic bitterness in his voice.

"She's notorious for telling false futures," Valjean explained. "For money. Which is a shame, as she's actually a very good seer, but her genuine prophecies are few and far between."

"So how do you know that this one is genuine?" Grantaire asked.

"We don't," Paloma said. "That's the problem. That's why I'm insisting we call it a rumour – it could be bullshit."

"We need to speak to her," Enjolras said.

"If she works in the Court, though..." Cosette bit her lip. "Wouldn't that be tricky to get hold of her?"

"Actually, if she worked in the Court it would be much easier," Combeferre said. "We have contacts in the Court. If I remember rightly, she was banished about a year ago?"

Paloma nodded. "She was lucky the King didn't order her to be executed, she sold him a false prophecy," she said. "Rumour has it that this was her attempt at getting back in his favour, and getting back into the Court. Obviously it didn't work, because the prophecy she ended up giving wasn't in his favour. That points at it being genuine, in my opinion, but that's up to you guys to decide."

"So where is she?" Marius asked.

"I can't help you with that, I'm afraid," Paloma said. "No one seems to know. Finding people isn't really my area, after all."

"We have other informants," Enjolras said. "What was the other thing you've heard?"

"Well." Paloma glanced towards Cosette. "The King is offering a bounty for anyone who can bring in Cosette alive."

Silence met her words.

"A bounty," Valjean said, quietly. "How much?"

"A lot," Paloma said. "And I mean a lot."

"Fuck." That came from Bahorel, now turned around to face them. "You know what that means, right?"

"Yes," Enjolras said, grimly.

"What does it mean?" Cosette looked at her father, alarmed. "Dad?"

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "It just means that other demons will be looking for you," he said. "Mercenaries, and the like."

"I've heard a lot of whispers about this in particular," Paloma said. "According to some of my clients – well, attacks are being planned on this compound as we speak."

Grim silence met her words. Cosette watched the demons exchange glances. Her father gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"Is that bad?" Cosette asked, leaning forwards and resting her elbows on the table. "If it's just demons – you've faced them before –"

"This will be different," her father said, gently. "These will be demons who are largely unknown to us. The King's own guard has been in place for many years now; most of them served the previous king. They were operating out of fear, and out of a sense of duty. They were following guidelines, most likely – within reason, of course, because the King is not the same as the rest – but they were probably good people. In choosing to place a bounty on your head, however, he has opened it up to a whole host of other demons, who will be doing whatever it takes to get their hands on the gold that he offers."

"Not just gold, either," Combeferre mused, staring up at the ceiling. "A fair few will be trying to curry favour, I expect; maybe get pardons from the King."

"I bet my father tries," Éponine said, her tone filled with bitterness. "If he can tear himself away from his whores long enough."

"What I mean is that the nature of the demons who may try and attack now might be less...noble," her father said.

Éponine snorted. "That's putting it lightly."

"It isn't that much to worry about," Jehan said, lightly. "We're always in danger, really, and our safeguards have never been stronger. We're well-prepared, and now we know that we need to have a watch out for this kind of attack."

"Jehan is right," Enjolras said, looking directly at Cosette. "It isn't that much to worry about."

"But we might be attacked again," Cosette said.

"Yes, but that was always going to happen," Combeferre said. "Whether it was mercenaries or the King's guard –"

"A new King's guard," Paloma interrupted. Her face was very grave. "He had the entire lot executed as a punishment for returning without Cosette last time."

Cosette felt sick. "All of them?"

"Every single one," Paloma said. "People were talking about it for weeks – it was a public spectacle. All beheaded."

"I have very little sympathy," Grantaire said quietly. "They were trying to kill us, and take Cosette."

"It was their job," Paloma said, narrowing her eyes in Grantaire's direction. He shrugged.

"I don't care," he said.

"Still, they didn't deserve that," Cosette murmured, leaning into her father. "No one deserves that."

"You're too nice," Grantaire said, as he had said many times before.

Cosette stared at him, and then pulled away from her father. "If you don't mind, I'm going to go back to my room," she said, louder, to the whole room. "I just want some time to...think."

Nobody stopped her from leaving, but she knew she was being followed; she heard someone sliding off stools and then footsteps behind her. She was just a little way down the corridor when she turned to look over her shoulder, and found her father and Grantaire walking side by side behind her.

"I still want time to think," she said.

"We're not stopping you from thinking," Grantaire said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His whole body was tense.

"I'm just worried," her father replied. His voice was soft and gentle. "It's never nice to hear this kind of news."

They fell into step on either side of her, and she didn't try and speed up to get away from them. She had wanted time to think, but she supposed it didn't hurt to do her thinking out loud.

"I don't want any more battles over me," Cosette said. "I don't want anymore people dying because of me."

"Noble," Grantaire said.

Cosette felt irritation needle at her. "I'm being serious," she said, her voice low.

"That's what worries me," Grantaire shot back.

"Is it so wrong of me to want people to live?" Cosette shook her head, the length of her strides increasing.

"As I said, you're too nice," Grantaire argued. "Cosette, I can see what you're thinking, here, and I don't like it –"

"I don't want them dying because of me," she repeated. "I thought you might be a bit more supportive, Grantaire. Wasn't it you who wanted to raid their weapon supply and then run away?"

"That was before," Grantaire said.

"Before what?" She came to a stop, planting her hands on her hips.

"Look, I've had time to think," Grantaire said, his hands clenching into fists. "I want to keep you safe, you know that. If you really want to do this, and you can't be persuaded otherwise, then I will follow you. I'd follow you into hell itself, you know that. But I –"

"Hold on a moment." It was her father, now, his voice deadly calm. "Let me try and understand what I think is going on here."

Cosette turned to face him, her face feeling warm. "It would be for the best –"

"You aren't seriously thinking of leaving this compound, are you?" Her father sounded incredulous, and his eyebrows were nearly disappearing into his hairline. "This highly guarded compound that has kept you safe for weeks?"

"It almost didn't keep me safe," Cosette retorted.

"But it did," Grantaire said.

"I don't understand what your problem is, you've been wanting to leave since we got here," Cosette snapped.

"Can't a man change his mind?" He glowered at her. "Like I said, if you really want to do this, then we do it, and I will try my best –"

"We can't protect you as well if we're on the run," her father said. "I'm so out of practise – it took all my effort to find you. And now I've seen this place, got to know the people a bit better, I don't think there is a safer place on this planet for you right now."

"But –"

"But, I agree with your father," Grantaire said. "I didn't think that it was that safe, not at first. But now I do. Like I said before, you're too nice, too nice for your own good. You might not want people dying for you, but they are willing to. I say take advantage of that, as brutal as it might sound."

"I can't ask them to die for me," Cosette said.

"You're not," Grantaire said, a note of desperation in his voice. "They took you. They've already offered. They knew the stakes when they took you in to protect you. Hell, even Éponine –"

"That was to save Marius, not me," Cosette said. Her hands dropped from her hips. "Okay, so, I get that us three running away might not –"

"That is absolutely out of the question," a new voice cut in.

It was Éponine, of all people. She looked slightly pale, as she had done ever since she was shot, but Cosette didn't think she'd ever seen the other woman looking fiercer.

"We have already risked a hell of a lot in taking you in," Éponine said, sharply. "And we're going to carry on risking it. Even if you did run off, it wouldn't make a difference, because those mercenaries would still be bearing down on this place and we'd all die anyway, got it? And if we do die, we won't be dying for you, okay, because this isn't actually about you. This is all part of a bigger picture, a bigger picture of the fact the Demon King is a tyrant, a murderous tyrant who abuses his power every second he sits on that throne. The idea of you running away now is just – stupid, to be perfectly honest with you. It's reckless, it's dangerous, it would never work. You need to listen to your guard dog when he gives you advice, okay? Take advantage of the safety we're offering you, understood? So get your arse back in the kitchen and eat some lemon cake and don't even open your mouth if you're going to suggest anything as fucking stupid as you and your guard dogs running off into the night."

Éponine pinned Cosette with an icy glare, and then slowly turned around and began to stomp off down the corridor, back to the kitchen. When she realised that no one was following her, she stopped and turned to scowl at them over her shoulder. "Well?" she snapped.

Cosette glanced at Grantaire, and her father.

"Ball's in your court," Grantaire said.

Cosette looked down at her feet. "Maybe it was a bit...hasty of me," she mumbled.

"Hasty isn't the word I would use," Éponine said.

"Nor me," Grantaire said. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Cosette. His scent and the warmth of his body was so familiar to her, and she could hear his voice in her head, saying I'd follow you into hell itself. He bent his head to her ear and murmured, so quietly she could barely hear him, "You've made the right decision. But if you really wanted to..."

He didn't finish, just let go of her, held her at arm's length. She met his gaze, and smiled.

OOO

Combeferre was sat in Enjolras' office when Éponine appeared in the doorway.

"We need to find the seer," Éponine said, with no greeting at all.

Enjolras pushed his chair away from his desk and spun around so he was looking at her. Combeferre raised his head from the book he was reading.

"Yes, we know," Enjolras said. "The problem is finding her. Paloma said she had no idea..."

"I know, but we all know who would be able to find her," Éponine said. "I can't, because I've been out of the loop for too long, and no one would trust me anymore. But Gavroche –"

"He didn't respond to our last request for information," Combeferre said calmly.

"You know him, he does things on his own terms and he moves around so much," Éponine said. "But I could find him. I might not be much good for finding strangers anymore, but I know I could find my little brother."

Enjolras glanced at Combeferre. "Gavroche is our best bet," he said, slowly.

"Are you well enough?" Combeferre asked. There was still something grey about Éponine's skin, but she wasn't having to use the doorframe to support herself anymore.

"Yes," Éponine said, firmly. "I can do this."

"I have no problems with it," Combeferre said, to Enjolras. "But you don't go alone," he added.

"Yes, that's probably for the best," Enjolras agreed.

He'd expected Éponine to scowl at the very suggestion she was not capable of going alone, but she didn't. She just nodded.

He hesitated, before saying, "I can go with you."

At this, she did frown, but it wasn't one of her angry frowns; it was a questioning one. "You?" she said. "I assumed you'd send Courfeyrac, or..."

"After today's revelation he and Joly will be adding even more safeguards to the compound, he can't be spared," Combeferre said.

Éponine's eyes were narrowed slightly. "Fine," she said, slowly. "I guess you're probably better at dealing with Gavroche sometimes." She swayed against the doorframe, folding her arms over her chest. "We go tomorrow?"

"First thing," he promised.

"If you're not back by seven in the evening, I'm sending out a group to look for you," Enjolras said, spinning back towards his desk.

"One more thing," Éponine said.

"Yes?" Enjolras said, not turning back.

"I didn't mention it before, but I think you should be aware," she said. "When Cosette left the kitchen before, she was thinking of trying to break out. Run away. Her guard dogs were trying to persuade her not to, but I think they would have gone. I just thought you should know – I mean, I think I got her to agree to stay, but it's a definite possibility."

Combeferre thought back to how quiet Cosette had been when she'd slipped back into the kitchen with her father and Grantaire earlier on. She'd eaten lemon cake fresh from the oven with the rest of them, sipped at tea, but she'd not joined in with any conversation. She'd clearly withdrawn into herself, and he had wondered...

"Thanks for letting us know," Enjolras said. "We'll..." He looked over his shoulder, at Combeferre. "Can we do anything about that?"

"Short of putting her under guard and locking her in her room, I'm not sure," Combeferre said. "Maybe keep an eye on her?"

"Have a word with one of her guard dogs," Éponine suggested.

"I don't know them particularly well but I doubt they'd be happy talking about Cosette like that," Enjolras said. "Particularly not...Grantaire." His nose wrinkled when he said the man's name, and Combeferre tried not to smile.

"You might be surprised," Éponine said, with a shrug. "They were trying their best to persuade her not to leave, so..."

"I'll have a word," Enjolras said, rubbing a hand over his face. He groaned. "I'm tired," he murmured.

Combeferre stood, closing his book properly and clapping Enjolras on the shoulder. "You need to rest," he said, gently. "Go to bed. Goodnight." He gave Enjolras' shoulder a small squeeze and then herded Éponine out of the doorway, and down the corridor.

"You should get some rest as well," Combeferre said. "As I said before, we'll leave first thing tomorrow morning. Bring your own weapons. I'll need to go and have a word with Courfeyrac so we can leave with no problems."

"Okay," Éponine said. "I'll see you tomorrow morning then."

"Yes," Combeferre replied. "See you."

OOO

Cosette lay staring up at the ceiling. Or what she imagined would have been the ceiling; as it was, all she could see was blackness, swirling with sparks of orange and red. She closed her eyes. On the floor, she heard Grantaire rolling on his mattress with a rustling sound.

"Grantaire?" she murmured. "Are you awake?"

"No," he replied, voice muffled. "What's up?"

"Did you mean it?" she asked.

"Did I mean what?"

"Before. What you said. If I really wanted to leave..."

More rustling. A hand gripped hers in the darkness, tight and strong. "Of course," Grantaire said. His voice was no longer muffled, but was clear, as strong as the grip he had on her hand. "You don't even need to ask."

She squeezed his hand back. "I'm not going to," she whispered. "I'm not."

"Good," he said.

They continued to hold hands. Minutes passed by, maybe an hour, maybe more. Sleep wouldn't come, not for a long time, but Cosette felt better for the comfort that Grantaire's hand around hers brought. It made her happy, to know that she wasn't alone.

Eventually, Grantaire's hand slipped out of hers. She drew her hands back beneath her blankets, folding them over her stomach. Her eyes closed, and finally, she fell asleep.