Chapter 10 Small Miracles

I know I know I'm soooooooo late but writers block and my muse was not helpful for a while. But here I am thank you to those who have stayed on and welcome new readers.

"Surrender," Athos called to Grimaud.

"WHY, would I do that," he answered with a sneer. Flipping his knife in his left hand with smooth practiced precision. The room had fallen quiet save Aramis occasional grunts of pain. Girmuad was the last man standing two three musketeers. He and Athos cireled one another in what appeared to be, a never ending dance.

"Come, now Grimand you have nowhere else to run." Athos resoned.

Grimaud smiled cruelly as he caught his knife by the tip and said, "That's what you think." He threw the dagger at a wooden torch near Aramis and Claude making it fall to the ground towards them.

Athos was no longer focusing on Grimaud as he saw Claude take her cloak and with her body shielded Aramis as the cloak burst into flames. With the help of D'artagnan and Porthos, Athos managed to get the clock off Claude on time leaving her with some singed hair.

Coughing she nodded to them in thanks and as the coughing subsided she said, "Get the wagon from the barn here and get the horses. Aramis is stable for know but he needs a real doctor I have done all I can at present."

Athos remembering spun around and cried out, "GRIMAUD." Starting to run off Claude's voice stopped him mainly from the language she use than anything else.

"Athos, let the bastards, go for now. We have more important things to deal with right now and unfortunately Grimaud is probably long gone, the devilish coward he is and all."

The Queen's Private Chambers

Ann hated waiting sometimes it felt like the only thing she did was wait. Wait for her loyal musketeers to come with news, wait for her husband to make a move. Waiting for Phillip to make a move, waiting for Constance to tell her how her meeting with Trevill went, and waiting to finally see her dear Aramis. Or waiting to hear the worst that she will never see him again.

All this was going through her head as she sat with her ladies-in-waiting there sewing circle her embroidery laying loosely in her left hand and on her lap. Her right arm resting on the arm of the chair ann her head on her and as she stares out the window. Though she was not in the most queenly position she somehow managed to make it look regal but austere.

The Musketeer Garrison

It was done she had told Trévil. Lying on her bed Constance tried to finally get some shut eye before she went to see the Queen. However the conversation kept going over and over again in her head. Once Trévil had finally found his voice she had been bombarded with questions. What? How? Who? The list went on until she had had enough and put her hand in the air to stop him. She then very calmly and slowly explain everything. Trévil was not happy about being kept out of the loop for so long but he did understand why. However that still did not lessen the blow for either.

Sighing Constance got up and started to get dressed sleep would not come so she might as well go see the Queen besides her Majesty was probably an even bigger bundle of nerve then she was. But she would take what she could get.

Sorry for the shortness but I wanted you all to have something seeing as it has been almost if not a year since an actual chapter was published.