It was about nine o'clock when D'Artagnan and Celeste made their way down the long hallway leading to the royal apartments. As they reached the door to the King's rooms, they found a knot of royal advisors gathered outside the door.

"We already know about the riots," said Claude.

"Does he know?" asked D'Artagnan.

"We will tell him," said Pierre. "When it is…"

Claude rolled his eyes. "Convenient."

D'Artagnan and Celeste exchanged glances. They bowed slightly to the advisors and returned the way they had come, but stepped into another hallway. They came to the Hall of Mirrors.

D'Artagnan touched the golden frame of the one of the mirrors at the right hand corner and it swung open.

Celeste went first and D'Artagnan came behind her, closing the door. From the outside, no one was any the wiser.

Celeste and D'Artagnan stepped into the King's bedroom.

Louis whirled. "D'Artagnan! These passages were constructed for the King's security! Not so you and Celeste could step from behind my Father's portrait and startle me to death."

Celeste stood slightly behind her Uncle, dressed in a white and black silk dress, her black hair tumbled down her back. She had not wanted to come with D'Artagnan to see the King but he had insisted she not leave his side after the riot.

"It is for your security that I have come, Your Majesty," said D'Artagnan. "For the security of your honor."

"I already know about the riots, D'Artagnan," said Louis. "I heard them out there whispering. Some fool gave the order to distribute rotten food. I will deal with it later."

Celeste almost opened her mouth to point out that it had been he who had ordered the distribution of the food, but decided against it.

"Then there is one more thing," said D'Artagnan, "of an even more personal nature."

"A personal nature?" Louis's eyes went to Celeste.

She met his gaze with a steady one of her own.

"Mademoiselle Michelle Beaufort," said D'Artagnan. "She is betrothed to Raoul, the son of Athos the Musketeer, who has served France through many crisis's."

Louis began eating from the food that was laid out of the table in front of him. "Betrothed? I think not."

"In his mind," said Celeste. "And in hers as well. She has written him many love letters."

Louis began poking at his food. "Mademoiselle Beaufort has accepted our invitation. By this we can only suppose that she wish to come. As we wish her to be here."

"Your Majesty has had many women," began D'Artagnan carefully.

"This is my desire and my desire is what should concern you, not the sentiments of some commoner!" snapped Louis.

"It is not Raoul's heart alone that concerns me," said D'Artagnan. "It is also yours. I know that you find women compliant, especially the poorer ones like Michelle. But do they love you? Do you love them? What about a queen to love? A son of your own?" asked D'Artagnan.

"What quaint notions, D'Artagnan!" exclaimed Louis. "But they contradict my father, who only picked his queen when he was old, and only then to bear me."

Something flickered in D'Artagnan's eyes. "There is more to love than he knew, or that you know."

Louis sat up straight and looked at D'Artagnan coldly. "You dare criticize my father! Or lecture me!"

"Not criticize, plead. Love. Love your people and you will not bear to see them hungry. Love women and they will love you. Love yourself…"

"That is enough!" snapped Louis. "You are a good servant, D'Artagnan, but you forget your place!"

Celeste stiffened. How dare Louis call her Uncle his servant! She seethed inwardly and longed to get out of there. She couldn't even bear the look on his face. But she stepped forward. "At least help Raoul," she said.

Louis glared at her. "Silence! I order you!"

But Celeste would not be. "Order Fromberege to keep in safety! It is the least you can do!"

Louis opened his mouth, but stopped. He studied Celeste for a long moment. "I will consider it. Now leave me."

Celeste curtsied slightly.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," said D'Artagnan. "Come Celeste."

A young musketeer ushered Michelle in the palace bedroom that was previsouly occupied by the King's last mistress and left her quietly.

She stood, frozen at the center of the room.

There was handcarved, richly upholserted furniture scattered throughout the bedroom. The bedposts where carved with the figures of cherubic and overlaid with gold.

Suddenly, the door opened and a handmaiden bustled in carrying a beautiful dress in her arms. "After your bath, put this on. It's the King's favorite color," she said softly. Her eyes flickered to the desk in the corner. "That letter on the desk came here for you this morning." She set the dress on the bed and was gone.

Michelle went to the desk and lifted the letter. Her eyes lit up. "Raoul!" she whispered. She quickly opened it and read it even faster. She sank into a chair. "The army? Oh Raoul!" She pressed the letter to her lips. "I will always be faithful." Her eyes wandered around the room and fell on the gorgeous dress. They narrowed slightly and she stood. Her gaze then fell on the murals painted above the bed. She gasped and her face went bright red.

They where of naked gods and goddesses, in Olympian orgies.

Michelle quickly took her bath and dressed. She stood in front of the mirror for a long time. She turned to go and get Raoul's letter to read one more time. She picked it up and looked at it for a long moment. Then turned to go to her chair. She gasped and jumped back.

Louis was standing there, looking at her.

"Sire!" Michelle stared at him. "How…"

"How did I get in?" Louis smiled. "You're new here, and will soon learn many secrets." His eyes went to the letter in her hand. "What is that?"

"…Nothing."

"A letter. May I see?"

Michelle didn't resist him as he took it from her hand. He read it. His eyes hardened for a brief moment but then he smiled. "From Raoul." He looked at her. "He urges you to guard your honor, as if it could be in any danger…from your King."

"Raoul…"Began Michelle. "Raoul is in love."

"Enough of this," said Louis. He tossed the letter aside. "Our dinner waits." He offered her his arm.

She looked it, guilt rising in her heart. But she took it and allowed him to escort her from the room.

Michelle stared at her plate as the servants attending her, piled it high with food.

"The food doesn't please you?"

"It's lovely," said Michelle quickly. "It's just…"

"This more than you are used to you," said Louis gently. "Your mother is a seamstress, your father is dead. You have three young sisters, two of whom suffer from consumption. And the other is in the family way and has no husband."

Michelle stared at Louis.

"Don't look so surprise," said Louis with a slight smile. "Kings know such things."

"I…" began Michelle. "We are humble people."

"No!" exclaimed Louis. "Do not be ashamed. The straits of your family need not be permanent. It is a simple matter to have them brought to one of my country estates, where they may have fine meals and physicians to look after them."

"You would do that, your Majesty?" asked Michelle, wide eyed.

"My dear, I've already done it."

Michelle's eyes filled with tears. She jumped up and rushed to him, throwing herself at his knees. She began to cry with gratitude.

Louis's face filled with embarrassment. For a spilt second, he felt guilty. But then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. "Please, darling, that isn't necessary. We are friends now." He signaled one of the servants. "Mademoiselle needs wine."