"I have no idea," said D'Artagnan. He began pacing as he waited.
Celeste kept her eyes on the doors.
When Louis regained consciousness, he gasped.
Phillippe was standing in front of him.
Aramis, Porthos and Athos bowed to him. "Your majesty."
Louis was tied up and in Phillippe's clothes. "What…"
"Don't look so shocked, Phillippe. Come, you're going back to prison."
"Phillippe!" exclaimed Louis. "Why do you call me…" Suddenly, understand dawned on him.
Porthos shoved a rag into his mouth.
Aramis tip toed across the room and opened the door a crack.
Celeste saw the door open. She turned to D'Artagnan. "I guess I'll return to the ball."
D'Artagnan turned to her, his back to the door.
The door shut.
"Of course," said D'Artagnan. "Go and enjoy your night."
Celeste disappeared. But instead of returning to the ballroom, she lifted her skirts and ran down the hallway. She knocked on Anne's door.
Anne herself opened the door.
"It's time."
Aramis returned to the others. "D'Artagnan guards the hallway. You must go back the way we came."
Athos put his hands on Phillippe's shoulders. "Now, your majesty, it is time."
Aramis and Porthos bowed.
Phillippe looked exactly like Louis but his mouth was dry and he swallowed hard as he followed Athos up the hidden stairs.
"Celeste will be there," said Athos. He stopped. "Alright." He adjusted Phillippe's outfit one last time. "You know the way."
"Phillippe nodded.
"You have your note?"
Phillippe nodded. Suddenly he hugged Athos and then without a backward glance, opened the door and walked down the hallway.
Athos stood and watched him go. "You have the heart of a king," he said softly. Then he shut the door behind him.
Phillippe stood in the doorway of the ballroom.
Everyone stopped and looked at him.
He froze, for what seemed like an eternity, but what was really a few seconds. Slowly he waved his hand. "Continue."
The music struck back up and the dancing resumed.
Slowly Phillippe moved through the crowd and sat down on his throne. he had made it this far. He looked around. Where was Celeste? He spotted a musketeer and waved him over. "Go and find D'Artagnan for me."
"Captain?"
D'Artagnan turned. "Yes?"
"The King wants you."
D'Artagnan blinked at him. "King?"
The soldier nodded. "Yes. In the ballroom."
D'Artagnan glanced at the doors. "But…" his words trailed off. The secret passages. He sighed as he went back to the ballroom and came over to the King. "Your Majesty?"
"Where is Mademoiselle Celeste?"
"I'm…not sure."
"Find her and tell her I wish to see her."
"Celeste?"
Celeste was standing in a dim hallway, looking out the window. She turned. "Yes, D'Artagnan?"
"Louis wants you."
Celeste sighed. "Very well." She gathered her skirts in her hands and swept past D'Artagnan into the ballroom.
D'Artagnan stared after her. She had never gone to see Louis without an argument. What in the world… his thoughts trailed off and he followed his niece.
Celeste swept a deep curtsey in front of the throne. "Sire."
The King nodded and rose. He held out his hand to her.
Wordlessly she took it and he swept her across the floor.
"I made it," he said softly.
Celeste was carefully to keep her face an emotionless mask but her eyes glowed. "I am so proud of you, Phillippe," she said softly. "Or as I should say, Your Majesty."
"No," said Phillippe. "I am always Phillippe to you."
Suddenly, Celeste stopped. She was staring at something behind him.
Phillippe turned.
Michelle was standing a few feet away. Her eyes where glassy and riveted on him. She was wearing the gown that Louis had given her on her first night there, but one shoulder strap was dangling sloppily. Her lips and cheeks where roughed brightly and her hair was messed. It took only one glance to see that she was drunk. She staggered toward him and made an elaborate curtsy, which she amazingly kept without falling over.
"My gracious noble lord…" she slurred.
Phillippe's heart was pounding as he looked around for help.
"Michelle," whispered Celeste.
The advisors saw her and quickly began moving. One ordered the dance to continue and Claude looked for D'Artagnan.
"How are you…Michelle?" Phillippe asked slowly, unsure of what was happening.
Michelle glared him as she wove unsteadily on her feet. "How should I be? I came to give this back to you!" She began tearing her dress off.
Claude, who didn't see D'Artagnan standing in the smaller doorway, grabbed a couple of younger musketeers and they grabbed her. But Michelle began fighting back. She slapped and clawed at the musketeers. One of them grabbed her from behind, his arm to her throat.
"Stop!" shouted Phillippe. "You're hurting her!"