"Given the distance of our travels, majesty," Richelieu said, and folded his fingers together in his lap, "perhaps you and I can put our differences aside?"
Anne raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to the left. "Is that what you call it? Differences?" She said and looked out the window of the carriage as the sun started to descend. "I didn't realize your hatred of me could be categorized as a difference?"
Richelieu swallowed and took a deep breath. "While there is nothing I can say or do to prove my sincere apologies for my wrongdoing, majesty, I will be forever in your debt and do not wish you any ill will."
Anne curled the corners of her mouth and glanced from the scenery to the cardinal. "I love my husband," she said, and met his eyes, "but I also know and understand that his… predilections at times are spontaneous and sometimes irregular — We must," she paused, "protect him from his whims. That is your responsibility — he trusts in you, depends on you, and when you fail him." She shifted, tightened her fists around the fabric of her skirt, and then grasped the cloak around her shoulders tighter as the cold nipped at her skin. "When you fail him," she met his eyes, "it crushes him."
Richelieu nodded and took a deep breath. "I will endeavor to be worthy of his opinion of me, majesty." He ran his hand along his goatee. "He seems distracted of late?"
"He's only a few months away from becoming a father," Anne said, and brushed her hand along her skirt. "He's terrified." She looked out the window toward the landscape and listened to the rattling of the carriage.
Richelieu nodded and watched her for a moment before he clutched at the edge of his seat. "How have you been feeling?"
Anne cocked her eyebrow, turned a knowing gaze toward him, and returned to look out the window.
"I only ask because while you seem to be glowing, you're also —"
"I'm what, cardinal?" Anne shrugged and raised her eyebrows. "Concerned about my husband and his overwhelming desire to see his legacy be equally as great as his father's? Or that my husband has suddenly found himself in a state of melancholy because his wife was nearly killed a just a few months ago? Or that, perhaps, I may be aware of his infatuation with the young Charlotte Mellendorf? But then," she inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, "maybe it's because he feels that I'm hiding something from him… something that might devastate him."
Richelieu cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head.
"That his most trusted councilor was behind the attack on me and had it not been for the musketeers… the child I carry may never have been realized." She met his eyes, tightened her jaw, and pursed her lips. "My husband is not a fool, cardinal. He may act erratically, but he is still your king, and as your king he deserves your respect and your duty."
"And he has it," Richelieu said and looked downward. "Again, your majesty," he looked up and met her eyes, "my sincere apologies."
Anne nodded and again adjusted the grip of the cloak around her shoulders. They continued in silence, shifting, rocking, and jostling as the wheels hit bumps, stones, and irregularities in the road. It was miserable, and while she tried to maintain a stoic facade, the pallor of her skin defied her will. She shifted as the carriage hit another bump in the road and she exhaled with a shake of her head. She looked through the branches of trees as they continued.
"I need to stop," Anne said. She leaned her head back against the carriage wall. "Please."
Richelieu knocked on the platform behind him and called toward the driver to stop the carriage. He watched Anne hastened for the door, but was quickly greeted by Treville who grasped her hand and helped her step down. She stepped past Athos and d'Artagnan as they followed her toward the edge of the small clearing. She stopped suddenly, pressed her hand against a tree and vomited.
Athos pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, handed it to her, and motioned for d'Artagnan to turn around. She took it, wiped at her mouth, and nodded in thanks. She paused a moment, took a deep breath of fresh air, and clutched at the fabric. Anne leaned against the tree and looked over the water, watching the gentle waves and wishing there had been a way to travel by boat.
"So undignified," Anne said, and glanced toward the entourage. She glanced toward Athos, who stood far enough away to allow her dignity, but close enough should she need assistance. Treville and Richelieu remained by the carriage. "Can I get you anything to settle —"
"No," Anne smiled and shook her head, "I've suffered this for weeks," she said and inhaled again. "It's just a part of my condition." She wiped at the corners of her mouth and looked toward the water. "Sitting in the carriage isn't helping, I'm afraid." She turned when she spotted two of her ladies-in-waiting walking toward her. "Athos," she said, "could you please stall them? I have little patience for their frivolity at the moment."
Athos bowed, turned, nodded toward d'Artagnan, and then walked toward the two women.
D'Artagnan stepped toward Anne and shielded her from the view of the women. "Is there anything we can do for you, majesty?"
In a moment of weakness she said, "Do you know of someone I can trust?" Anne chuckled and shook her head. "Someone who is devoid of mindless chatter and gossip." She shrugged and pinched at her cheeks. "I have often found myself wanting for company — Louis is busy and concerned with matters of state — and I…" she paused, "well, I'm the queen — what is it I could possibly need?" She glanced toward him and shook her head. "Please, d'Artagnan, don't repeat —"
"Constance Bonacieux, your majesty," d'Artagnan said. "You'll find no one more loyal or devoted… you have my word."
Anne turned toward him and met his eyes. "Something about the way you speak of her makes me believe you." She smiled, grasped his arm, and walked with him back to the carriage. "I'll take your suggestion under advisement." She nodded toward Treville and Richelieu and then stepped back into the carriage.
Treville nodded toward the driver, mounted, and once again continued toward their destination.
The sun's light glimmered off the gentle waves of the water and Anne watched the flickers through the window. The carriage continued to bounce and shift as they progressed. The sounds of wood creaking, wheels turning on rocky soil, hooves striking stone, and the groaning of wood rebelling against its shape grated her nerves.
It was dark by the time they arrived. Anne smiled toward Treville as he opened the carriage and offered his arm. She smiled, grasped it, and carefully stepped down and took a deep breath. Torch lights illuminated the encampment. A fire blazed and several musketeers stood and bowed at her presence as she walked toward the tent.
"Thank you, Treville," Anne said, released his arm and entered the enclosure. She listened as the horses were unhitched and paused a moment to look at her surroundings, before she walked forward. She nervously licked her lips at the tent entrance, closed her eyes for just a moment, and then opened the flap.
Louis looked up from the book he was reading at his desk, the lantern flickered, and he carefully slipped a piece of cloth between the pages. "How was your journey?"
Anne curled her lips into a subtle smile. "Long," she said, "but beautiful."
"Are you well?"
Anne nodded. "Of course, just a bit tired." She shifted. She turned suddenly when she heard laughter outside and then looked toward the ground when Louis stepped beside her.
"Rest then," he said, and left the tent.
Anne paused, rubbed at her belly, and took a seat as one of her ladies-in-waiting joined her.