"This is ridiculous," said D'Artagnan as he paced outside of Louis's door.
"What is?" asked Celeste.
"This ball."
The doors opened.
And they went in.
D'Artagnan's face was full concern. "You Majesty. This ball, with an open invitation to all the nobility of Paris…we have no way of checking…"
"You will protect me as you always have, D'Artagnan," said Louis carelessly. His tailors where fitting him into the outfit of a golden peacock as he stood at the window and watched young ladies pour into the castle. He turned and saw Celeste. "Mademoiselle Celeste."
She curtsied. "Your Majesty," she said graciously.
"We are pleased to see you have returned."
"And I am pleased to be back."
Louis looked at her for a long moment. "Will you be attending the ball tonight?"
Celeste favored him with a small smile. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, your majesty."
D'Artagnan breathed a sigh of thanks that she was indeed making an effort.
Louis turned to his advisor. "By the way, Claude, inform Mademoiselle Beaufort that she will be moving from her rooms…"
The doors behind them burst open and they all turned.
"Never mind," said Louis. "It seems we have already told her."
But Michelle's appearance startled them all. It was not the look of someone that had been brushed off. She was harshly different. Her eyes where red from crying and her lips where tight in anger. "Murderer! Murderer!" she cried. She held up her fist, in it, was clutched a letter. "I wrote Fromberege! Under your seal! I wrote as you, demanding to know why he disregarded my order to keep Raoul from danger! He writes back: 'But your majesty! Your last letter ordered me to put him in front of the cannons!'" Michelle hurled the crumpled letter in Louis's face.
Everyone was frozen.
Michelle staggered toward Louis, but fell to her knees, weeping.
Celeste jolted as if she had been smacked. She ran forward to Michelle. "Oh Michelle!" she whispered. She fell to her knees beside the girl and held her close. "Don't cry," she said softly. "Please, don't cry."
D'Artagnan came over. He helped both girls to their feet and turned to guide them from the room. He looked at Louis.
"Hysterical woman," Louis said coolly.
Celeste turned and looked at him.
Louis was stunned by the look of hate that had come over her face.
"Sire, the misuse of the royal seal…" began Claude.
"She'll be gone by tomorrow," said Louis. He turned back to the mirror.
As D'Artagnan, Celeste and Michelle moved down the hall, they passed Anne, coming to the King's door.
Anne's eyes landed on Michelle and she stopped. Her and D'Artagnan exchanged a look.
He respectfully nodded to her but she turned moved past him and into the King's dressing room.
Louis turned in surprise. "Mother…?"
"May I speak to you?" asked Anne. "Alone?"
"I am preparing for a ball!"
"We haven't visited in three years. And we should have privacy."
Louis waved his attendants away in exasperation. "What is it, Mother?"
Anne sat down. "I wish to discuss your brother."
Louis stiffened. "He is dead! By God's choice! There is nothing to discuss."
"First, they told me he had died at birth. Then your Father admitted he was alive, but well cared for, in secret. But the message that told of his death, said he had been a prisoner."
"I am King, Mother! And I do not wish to discuss this with you."
"He was my blood," said Anne. "My son. And I demand to know what happened to him."
Louis sighed. "Why would you ask now? You never asked before!"
"Because I've heard rumors," said Anne.
Louis stopped. "Rumors?"
"In the church."
"You pray too much. Your mind is weak." Avoiding her eyes, Louis turned and picked up a plaster bust of his father and stared at it.
"I had a dream, Louis. And I believe in dreams. They are our souls speaking to us. From that world beyond our eyes. And that son I never saw in daylight, was standing in the moonlight of my dreams. And he wore an iron mask."
There was no sound in the room, except for the plaster bust falling to the floor and shattering.
"It…It doesn't matter now, Mother! He is dead! Dead!"
"Yes. Dead," said Anne coldly. "Two nights ago. The night of my dream." She rose t her feet and glided to the door.
"If…if he was wearing an iron mask in your dream, then how could you know he was your son?" asked Louis with a smile.
Anne turned and looked at him. "Then you did do it, Louis. You did put your brother in an iron mask."
All the blood drained from Louis's face.
Anne walked out of the room and past Louis's waiting tailors.
Louis swallowed. "I have a ball to attend!" he snapped. The tailors rushed in and scurried about, dressing in his gold. Slowly Louis's composure returned. He stared at himself in the golden mirror. He liked what he saw and smiled.