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Chapter XXII

"He's late."

Philippe paced nervously between the walls of his room, hands folded tightly behind his back with eyes downcast on the floor. The ceremonial robes that would have marked him as King had been shed and thrown carelessly on the edge of the bed near where Anne had quietly placed herself, watching her son with growing concern as the minutes ticked by. Uncertainty lingered in the room like a poison but neither of them dared to speak further in case fears were spoken outright, bringing forth a new manifestation of fear that they were desperately trying to ignore.

Crowds had been gathering outside of musketeer headquarters all morning, anxious to get themselves a place so that they could hear this mysterious announcement that was being brought to them from the palace. Porthos had stepped into his chambers only briefly to tell him of the news before he left to join Athos and Andre in delivering that speech, the one that would begin the web of lies they had created to serve as their cover story. Philippe felt guilty for misleading the people in such a manner, knowing that for a great number of them, the truth would probably be far more welcome then the thought that their King had seen the error of his ways after an attempt to remove him from his throne. He couldn't help but wonder how many of those people would walk away with a new impression of him…of Louis. Would they truly believe that he had changed? It felt as if there would need to be some kind of large scale miracle for that to happen, which did nothing to ease his troubled mind over the matter.

And then there was Katherine to think about as well. The physician had said that if her fever did not break by sometime that evening then their chances of losing her would increase dramatically, a thought that made Philippe's stomach churn violently. Aramis had not yet left her side since bringing her up from the ball the evening before, and even D'Artagnan was hard to coax away from the room for too long before he was back inside and watching over her like the parental hawk Philippe now knew his father to be.

"You must not worry, my son," came his mother's gentle voice as she watched him continue to move throughout the room. "They will return as soon as they are able."

But the soothing tone of his mother's words did little to erase the worry and fear that were already running rampant through his mind. There were too many things that could happen with this plan that they had created, and while he had the utmost confidence in the men who had saved his life, Philippe couldn't help but concern himself with their safety and well-being, especially now. He could only imagine the frame of mind that Aramis was in at that very moment, hovering by his daughter's bedside day and night as he prayed fervently to God that her life be spared. D'Artagnan too would be close to sharing that same internal panic, for while he had known nothing of Philippe and had been forced to watch Louis from a respectable distance, Katherine had been the one child in his life that he could dote upon without question for all of those years. She was the daughter he had never had, the child who was given the fatherly love and affection that he was unable to shower upon his own children. Not even he could dismiss his feelings in this instance.

"How long does it take to read the announcement to the people?" he demanded in frustration, his pacing becoming a little quicker as he moved back and forth about the room.

As he approached the window, Philippe came to a stop, his bright blue eyes looking almost distantly out into the gardens that surrounded the palace. His movement stopped all together, his hands falling to his side as a sigh escaped his lips. From where she had placed herself, Anne watched her son with concern in her eyes before a spark of understanding crossed her mind. While the concern that he outwardly expressed was for the return of his friends from their ride into the city she knew there was something more to his thoughts then what he was sharing. And without a doubt in her mind, Anne would have bet her life that it was Katherine who now clouded his mind.

He'd taken a liking to the girl, any mother could see that. And despite the lack of knowledge that he was sure to have about women from the number of years he had spent in solitude between his country home and time in the Bastille, he had taken great strides in attempting to tell the girl of his affections for her. She had noticed the way in which the two of them had danced together at the ball the night before, seeing how easily Katherine was led around the dance floor in Philippe's arms and how his eyes never once left her face. D'Artagnan had seen it as well, for he had shared a small glance with her as he continued to keep his watch over his son. And yet she couldn't help but notice that there seemed to be something more in his gaze, something that fell much deeper than simply fear and concern.

For a moment she hesitated. "Philippe." He turned rather sharply toward her, startled out of his thoughts. "There is more, is there not?"

Lips pressed tightly together as his eyes turned down to the floor. Words battled for dominance in his brain as he struggled to find the correct way of phrasing things, of somehow dispelling any anxiousness that his mother might be feeling. And yet there was nothing, nothing at all that he could piece together that might persuade her to put aside her concern. In truth, there was nothing he could say that would erase the overwhelming emotion that he found to be taking control of his own consciousness at that moment. But the look in his eyes was one of pure guilt when at last he did lift his eyes to meet his mother's.

"It's my fault."

In an instant Anne had risen from her place on the edge of the bed and crossed the room, wrapping her arms tightly around her son as he buried his face against the warm skin of her neck. His shoulders quivered with the tell-tale signs of tears that would shortly follow, his own arms moving to hug her just as tightly to him for some kind of comfort. Anne's fingers gently stoked his hair as she held him, closing her eyes to better center her frame of mind as she began to think of how it was that she would console her son at this time. Was there anything that a mother could say that might actually help to make him feel better? Or was she simply going to make things worse? This was an entirely new part of motherhood that she had previously not known, and so the two of them were constantly testing new waters to see where their developing relationship would go and what it could handle.

"There is nothing you could have done to prevent this from happening," Anne told him gently with a firmness in her words. "You are not to blame."

A sob fell from Philippe's lips. "She saved my life that night, Mother. Louis wanted me dead and she kept me alive."

Casting her glance upward, Anne couldn't help but sent a silent prayer to God, asking that something good come from this situation. "Katherine did as she was asked," she said, allowing her gaze to return to the room once more. "She protected you because she knew that the future of this country rested with your safety, even if she was not privy to all of the details. I would not have let her go out of concern for her own safety, but I trust that Aramis did what he thought was right as her father. And so too must you believe that Katherine did as she believed to be right."

This did nothing to soothe his heart of the ache that he felt, but he could not bring himself to tell her so. Anne was only doing her duty as a mother, attempting to dispel his concern and put it into an alternative perspective that might be more appeasing to his ears. And yet he found that he was at a loss for how to react now, knowing that there was still some kind of truth that rang clear in her words. His heart told him that he would have reacted the same way if things had been reversed, that had Katherine been in danger that night he would have done his utmost to come to her aid despite having known nothing about her before. She could have left him there, Philippe thought to himself. As the absent brother of a King, especially one who had been as cold and calculating as Louis had been, there was no real reason for her to risk her own life and go with her father and uncles that night. And yet she had gone, allowing herself to place all of her hope for the future in him without knowing even his name. She had dared to let herself believe that there was something better than Louis out there, an alternative that could spare France and her people from the years of cruelty that they had already endured under his reign. Without knowing a single thing about him, save for that he was the King's twin, she had gone to rescue him.

"We cannot lose her," he whispered against her shoulder, trying to compose himself once more and brush the strands of his hair away from his eyes. "I cannot lose her."

Straightening his posture and pulling away from his mother's embrace, Philippe inhaled deeply and quickly began to remove the tears from his skin with the back of his hand. It would not do for the King of France to be seen in such a state of emotional turmoil, not when he had just finished a large celebration and laughed off the very thing that he was crying over. No one else aside from his mother understood the way that he felt about Katherine, at least to his knowledge. And for the time being, it needed to be kept that way.

No sooner had he pulled down the edges of his tunic then the wall to the side began to move, signalling the arrival of another body through the secret passage that had been placed in his quarters for the safety of the King. Having expected there to be a knock at the entrance doors, Philippe jumped a little at the movement and turned himself to face the person who emerged, breathing a slow sigh of relief when he took note of Athos' head becoming visible.

"Your Majesties," he said quickly, bowing as low as his aging body would allow.

"How was it?" Philippe asked quickly, brushing a hand aside to show his disliking for the continual bowing that they all seemed to do when there were no other people present who might find out their secret. "Did the people accept it?"

Athos raised his head slowly and looked between the two other occupants of the room. He could see the nervousness that radiated from Philippe's eyes while his mother had once again taken her place on the edge of the bed, refined and regal in every possible way from her years of experience on a throne. He knew that she too would be feeling the very things that her son was, but she knew how best to conceal it from the eyes of outsiders and so used her skills to her advantage. But there was something else that Athos took note of as he stood there, something that caused a thousand endless questions to prod at his mind. While he saw no tears in the young King's eyes, there were definite traces of red within the whites…had he been crying? What could upset Philippe so deeply that he would become that emotionally overwhelmed? Those questions, however, were not currently being brought forth and so he knew that they would need to wait for another time and place to be dealt with. There were far more pressing things at hand right now.

"The people seemed to accept your statements with surprise and awe," he reported, watching some of the tension sink away from Philippe's shoulders almost immediately. "They were whispering for a good while afterward about the amount of mercy that was being shown toward these traitors, some of them going as far as to say that they had rather expected a public execution as an example."

The young man nodded. He had expected that much. While he was slowly working toward earning back the trust of his people, Louis had done a rather remarkable job of destroying their faith in their King, and so Philippe knew that the task ahead of him would be difficult one. But that was a step in the right direction, was it not? Knowing that there had been no riot, no jeers from the crowds as the announcement was delivered to them, that had to be a good thing. And yet the look that Athos wore told him that there was something else he needed to be told, something that might very well put a wrinkle in their plans or cause further worry for them all as they tried to assimilate Philippe in place of Louis.

"What is it?"

For a moment Athos did not speak. His eyes were so firmly set on Philippe that he seemed banish away the rest of the room in a single gaze, singling out that lone body for his mind to focus upon. "There are whispers in the streets that something is soon coming."

Philippe didn't understand and turned his head a little in question. "Something? That is not overly specific, Athos."

"Nobody seems to know what to expect. But there are rumours being told in the village that all is not well at the palace and that those who attempted to remove the King from his throne are not yet giving up on their task."

Now he understood the seriousness in Athos' face. They had been the ones to instigate the plot of removing Louis from the throne, not an outside group of people. Hearing that there were rumours of future attempts meant that dangers were sure to follow him even now that things had been set into rights, and so meant in turn that there was someone else who might know the truth of what had happened that night in the Bastille. But there had been no one else there who was not in on the arrangements. Even Andre had been allowed to know most of what had been decided after that, having heard every word that was spoken by D'Artagnan as he believed himself to be dying of the wound that Louis had inflicted upon him. There had been no one else in that room to know the truth of that moment except for one person.

But that was impossible, and Philippe told Athos so with the firmness of his gaze as he looked back at the aging musketeer with disbelief. "There has to be another explanation for it," he insisted as he shook his head in defiance. "Word must have somehow gotten out from one of the other musketeers who was there."

"Perhaps," Athos agreed. "But regardless of how this came to be, we still have an issue on our hands. These rumours make it clear that you're in danger and we both know that D'Artganan will not take kindly to this news, especially right now."

Without saying it out loud both Philippe and Anne understood that this news coupled with the anxiousness that everyone was feeling over Katherine's well-being was sure to cause further strain for their group. And worse than that, there was sure to be even more danger for D'Artagnan as he struggled to repress the new fatherly urges that he was now permitted to display a little more than before. Despite all their efforts to put the past behind them and move on with their lives, there always seemed to be something else that threatened their way of life and the people they cared for most. Would there ever be a day when they were not constantly looking over their shoulders for the next sign of danger that was headed their way?

"We cannot keep this from them," came Anne's soft voice as she pushed herself back to her feet and approached them to lay a hand on her son's shoulder. "It would not be fair."

Athos bowed his head in her direction. "No, we cannot. D'Artagnan would never forgive us for keeping this from him," he murmured. "And neither would Katherine."

Silence filled the room as everyone seemed to pause and say their little prayer for her health before they dared continue, a look moving between the three of them.

"I should go and check on her," whispered the boy, looking to his mother with pained eyes. "See if there is any change."

Though there was likely to be none, Anne nodded in silent agreement. He would be accompanied by Athos, for knowing what he did there was no way that the older man would dare leave the boy unattended now. Every shadow would need to be checked, every piece of food that was placed before him would be tested, every goblet of wine sipped to ensure that poisons did not make their way into his body. The musketeers would be on high alert with this new threat looming over their heads, and his small circle of friends would become even more protective then they had ever been before. Their life at the palace would again change, but not necessarily for the better.

And there was nothing Anne could do about it.