This chapter happened a lot faster than I thought it might, so I hope it ends up being interesting to some of you! Please feel free to leave me a review when you finish reading! I'd love to know what you think thus far!

Chapter Four

It was growing dangerously close to nine o'clock, the time appointed by the King for his council to gather and the meeting to begin. Each had taken their place around the table that sat in the midst of the room for their use, papers and glasses of water sitting all over the top among the scattered quills and bottles of ink that would likely be put to use. Everyone sat in stony silence, each collecting their personal thoughts as eyes glanced around the room and took note of the empty chairs that sat near the musketeers. D'Artagnan had seated himself between Aramis and Athos, having left the chair on Aramis's other side vacant for Katherine to use. It was to be her first meeting of the Privy Council since Philippe's declaration the night before, and he didn't doubt for a moment that she would need the support of her father once the other council members settled in for the attack. Last night, while Kate had been over consoling Athos, they had made it rather plain that they did not welcome the input of a woman in their meetings.

Their words were still fresh in the mind of Aramis though, and it had taken much of his self-control not to voice his displeasure to them the night before. It was only the tension in his jaw and the hard look in his eyes that betrayed his animosity toward them now. But the older man wisely kept his thoughts to himself as he waited anxiously for the moment that his daughter would finally arrive. It would look poorly upon her if she were to arrive after the King when she was only newly appointed to such a high position. He knew that it would do nothing to lessen Philippe's trust in Katherine, they had been through far too much for that to happen. But it would not endear her to the rest of his council.

As the doors began to open, everyone leapt to their feet and looked toward the opening expecting that the King would be walking into their midst. Yet it was not the King who immediately appeared, but rather a company of two who hurried inside and toward the empty chairs.

Porthos was only a few steps behind her as they made their way inside, but it was Katherine's choice of clothing that immediately brought back the harsh stares of disapproval from the more senior members of the council. Her hair had once more been plaited in that single braid that lay down the center of her back, wisps of her dark brown locks having come loose so that they framed her face a little more than before. On her body she wore clothing that closely resembled the attire she had chosen when she had accompanied her father and uncles to the Bastille to rescue Philippe. No skirts or petticoats or anything else that might look feminine in nature, but a peasant styled blouse that hung off of both shoulders and tucked neatly into a pair of male trousers.

"Now really, mademoiselle, this is outrageous," spoke one man, a stout man with a rotund belly who glared heavily at the young woman from behind his spectacles. "You cannot present yourself before the King in such an unacceptable fashion!"

"It is unseemly for a woman to be dressed like that!" put in another.

Katherine turned sharply to face the both of them, her eyes narrowed dangerously as she felt her fingers tighten around the backrest of the chair she was to occupy beside her father. "Clearly you gentleman don't appreciate how difficult it is to train properly in skirts," she told them evenly. "Perhaps you have not heard, but I was ill for quite some time. My uncle was kind enough to allow me to train with him this morning."

She left out the fact that she had been unable to sleep the night before. Though Philippe had returned to his own chambers shortly after she had, he had quickly drifted off to sleep with his arms wrapped firmly around her body. But at some ungodly hour, perhaps three or four o'clock that morning, Katherine had finally given up on the notion of sleeping and slipped out of his embrace so that she could return to her own rooms undetected. It had been a relatively easy task to accomplish due to the changing of musketeers on duty at the time, and soon she had found herself creeping up the final staircase so that she could step into her room and close the door silently behind her. Even then, however, she hadn't been able to sleep. So when six o'clock had chimed its arrival she had left her rooms behind in the hopes of finding something to occupy her time. Porthos had simply been in the right place at the right time and more than willing to help his niece regain some of her strength by practicing with her.

"Regardless," sputtered another of the council. "You are a woman and should behave yourself as such!"

"As what?" Katherine rounded on him, eyes narrowed dangerously as the challenge resonated in her tone. "As yet another subservient person who buckles under the pressures of men? His Majesty did not appoint me to this Privy Council because he thought me weak and addle brained, or easily manipulated to the minds of others. He appointed me-"

"For reasons beyond our comprehension!"

Aramis bolted to his feet as he glared heavily across the table at the last man to have spoken, rage evident in his eyes and words. "How dare you!" he spat, looking as if he might jump across the top of the table in order to reach the offending man. "You have no right to speak to my daughter thus!"

D'Artagnan was on his feet in an instant with Athos quick to his side, each wearing a murderous look to rival the one that Aramis wore as they bore their teeth and flared their nostrils in anger. Even Porthos looked as if he were in the mood to join in the fight that looked to be happening. With the room now divided in half over their squabble it fell to Katherine to place herself tightly at her father's side, reaching across his body to place a hand firmly across his chest as she turned her bright blue eyes upward at him.

"No," she murmured to him, ignoring the presence of the others across the table for now. "We cannot fight them, Papa. The King needs his advisers to stand together if the presence from the English proves to be a genuine threat."

"But they-"

"Are foolish and misguided in their opinions," she interrupted smoothly. "And that is something they will one day have to answer for. But we need to be in control of our emotions now…for the sake of the King."

Aramis turned his greying head to look down at his daughter, his gaze instantly beginning to soften as he registered the wisdom in her words. Though he knew that she was just as angry as he was about the ill treatment she was receiving from members of the council, he had to agree with her. In the grand scheme of things this was but a squabble that would eventually be put to rest. There were larger, far more important matters to tend to now that a threat from England was looming on the horizon, and it was their job to advise the King as to the best way to handle the situation.

Philippe was still new to his position. He would need all of the guidance that they could give him before hell broke loose once more. France had only just started to regain some kind of stability and the people were slowly being won over to the side of their King. A threat of invasion from England would certainly strengthen their devotion to him to a degree, for no Frenchman alive wanted to see their country governed by their natural enemy. Yet one wrong move on his part could bring the very foundations of the country toppling down once more. And none of them wanted to return to the threat of civil war again.

Leaning toward her, Aramis pressed a quick kiss to Katherine's temple as the doors of the chamber were once more opened and the announcement of His Majesty's arrival was announced. Anyone who had been left seated was quick to rise to their feet and face their sovereign, bowing as low as was required of them. But it was not just Philippe who approached the table, as most had thought. Instead he lead Queen Anne into the room as well with her hand tightly held in his, her gracious smile bouncing from one side of the council to the other as she observed them. But as she took note of the manner in which Katherine had dressed herself, the Dowager Queen could not help but laugh softly.

"My dear," she began smoothly. "If I did not know better, I would say that you were outside this morning."

Ahead of everyone else, Katherine slowly lifted her hand and rose to her full height once more, smiling back at Anne. "Her Majesty is most observant," she acknowledged.

"Was it you I heard in the courtyard?"

"It was, my lady. Uncle Porthos was kind enough to work with me this morning."

"You are getting your strength back then. Very good."

It was abundantly clear to everyone in the room what that conversation meant. Anne had openly demonstrated her approval of the young woman who had been appointed to the council only the night before, her very presence standing as a testament to her support in the matter. Never before had the Dowager Queen been permitted to sit through these meetings, not even in the days when her husband had been alive. And the King had never brought her with him until then either. It didn't appear that Anne was going to be leaving them anytime soon either, for Philippe offered his mother a chair with a bow of his own head and a small gesture of his hand.

Obviously their way of life was now changing drastically around them, and without the authority to gainsay the King in this regard his older advisers could only bow their heads and plaster fake smiles across their lips. They did not like the fact that they would have to submit to the opinions of a woman in great matters of state. They had made that clear the night before. But with the King standing so near they knew that they could not risk angering him further. And certainly not with the Queen Mother there as well.

Katherine was careful to show her respect to her King without meeting his eye, lest Philippe foolishly try and catch it. His charming smile would certainly make her pause and smile in return, a reaction that would surely be noted by those who had no business in knowing of the relationship they shared. What good would it do either of them to raise suspicions like that? It would only serve to attach some kind of scandal to his crown, if he hadn't already managed to accomplish that with his actions at the ball.

Once Philippe and Anne were both situated, the rest of the council lowered themselves into their individual chairs and turned their attentions to their King.

"You are all aware of the situation," he began, getting straight to the point without formally addressing the council, a fact that did not go unnoticed by his older faction. "What remedy is there?"

"War."

Every eye in the room turned at once to the face of the rotund man who had initially decided to attack Katherine over her choice of clothing that morning. He looked his monarch boldly in the eye, ignoring all of the others who happened to be present. Even those who were nodding their heads in firm agreement and muttering under their breaths were ignored for the moment.

Maurice LaMarque was perhaps the most unpopular member of His Majesty's Privy Council in the eyes of the common people of France. He had gotten his position not through any heroic act on his part, but by charming the previous King with money and jewels and an abundance of flattery that had gone straight to the man's head. He was one of the oldest members of the council, a public figure of hatred who maintained that those who had been born beneath them should remain there. For a brief period of time he had been rather closely connected with Cardinal Richelieu before his death, and was all too happy to try and fill his shoes by whispering poison into his master's ear. For this alone Katherine knew that she needed to keep an eye on him and be careful to keep her distance whenever possible. LaMarque was going to be one of her biggest rivals now that she had been included in matters of state, and she didn't doubt that his resentment toward her would cause further issues down the line for her and her family.

Standing at approximately five feet and seven inches tall, LaMarque was a little shorter than Katherine was but certainly a great deal wider. It was almost impossible to know what sort of hair lay beneath his overly powdered wig, but she could only guess that it was sparse in nature if his diet was any indication. But his eyes were what unnerved her the most. Unlike ones she was familiar with, his were of a dark brown nature, so much so that they were almost black. But when she felt herself under his disapproving stare she could feel absolutely no warmth resonating with them. It was more like a dark tunnel with no light at the end. Just an emptiness that threatened to consume you and never again allow another positive or peaceful thought to enter your mind.

"The English cannot be permitted to encroach on our territories without consequence," LaMarque pressed forward, his tone dark as if he himself would lead the battle that he so desired to see. "We must show them and anyone else who desires to overtake us that we are not so easily moved by threats."

Porthos shook his head quickly. "But there has been no threat as of yet, Your Majesty. The ships were discovered to be English, yes, but blown off course by the storms that hit the coast a fortnight ago. They were only merchant ships on their way to Spain."

"And the spies?" LaMarque demanded hotly, turning his eyes to Porthos for the first time. "I suppose those were discovered to be nothing as well?"

"The spies were not caught, nor were they seen again," D'Artagnan confirmed coolly, looking LaMarque directly in the eye without the slightest hesitation or sign of submission. "Those we cannot discredit. But as no harm was done we have no just cause to declare war with the English."

A lanky man from across the table scoffed loudly at this. "If we delay in this then they will mostly certainly catch us off our guard and take the advantage!"

"A war at this time is a foolish endeavour we are sure to lose," D'Artagnan argued firmly.

"Your Majesty, if I may."

Silence filled the chamber almost immediately. All heads turned to look at the young woman who boldly directed her gaze toward her monarch while dressed in clothing that had been deemed inappropriate and unacceptable for the presence of the King. Her bright eyes remained locked on Philippe's face as he turned his attentions toward her, his own gaze softening slightly as the bickering around him came to a temporary halt. A hint of gratitude shone in his own blue orbs as he nodded his consent to hear her speak.

"The war with the Dutch was a costly affair in many respects. There was not enough food to send to the army at the front lines, barely enough men to even serve at the front and now your coffers are depleted as a result. Your Majesty should look to make peace with England, not war."

The King tilted his head slightly, intrigued by the idea being put before him. "And just how do you propose we go about that?"

"By inviting their ambassador to your court in order to negotiate a peace treaty."

The uproar that sounded in that moment was deafening, and caused Katherine to momentarily close her eyes against the harsh clamor that sounded in her ears. While it seemed that her own family was mostly in favour of the idea, the remainder of the council was certainly not. In their eyes it was treasonous to suggest allowing a foreigner anywhere near their King at this time, especially when their spies had been seen only a few days earlier. LaMarque was quick to show his aggressive stance against Katherine's idea, which caused both sides to rise angrily to their feet as the shouting match continued anew. The fact that Anne was sitting in the room was completely lost on the men, who were all but openly brawling in her presence.

Unfortunately, the tensions were running higher than they ever had before, and with a handful of musketeers in the room there was a dangerous chance that things might not remain verbal for long. Kate was already on her feet attempting to get her father and uncles to retake their seats, insisting that to argue this openly would benefit no one. But his words fell on deaf ears. Nobody was paying her the slightest attention anymore.

Then there was a crash on the table.

In an instant the arguments ceased as the room started to register the growing agitation that was growing inside of Philippe, who had risen to his feet and slammed a water glass down on its surface, causing the glass to shatter in his hand and create a mess. Anne and Katherine seemed to gasp in unison when both noted the hints of red that had begun to mix with the pieces of glass and the spilled water, alarmed that Philippe would so injure himself in his rage. His eyes were menacingly wide as he stared at the men who were supposed to be advising him in the great matters of state. They didn't need to be told twice that they had pushed their young King beyond his limits in this matter.

"Your hand-"

"You were saying, Katherine?"

The brunette breathed slowly for a moment, her mind barely registering the fact that Philippe had cut his own mother off in her concern so that he could beckon her to continue. The blood was still dripping from his hand in the places were the glass had broken the skin. Each passing second added another droplet to the puddle that was slowly beginning to form on the table.

Aramis nudged his daughter gently as he wadded up the handkerchief he kept in his pocket and offered it quietly across the table to Philippe to take with his injured hand. "Kate."

She gave herself a bit of a shake, coming back to the meeting. "Everyone knows that Charles II is not the man who truly rules England. That power is held by Oliver Cromwell, and he would never dare to leave so that another could take control in his absence. But the Duke of Buckingham might be invited to court as his ambassador. I understand that he is sympathetic to an alliance with us moreso than any other great power in Europe."

Philippe nodded slowly, continuing to stare his council down. "Then an olive branch shall be extended to him," he declared. "From you, as a hero to France."

"Your Majesty, I must protest!" LaMarque cried out. "Mademoiselle Katherine may well be a member of this council by your good grace, but she is hardly worthy of writing to a man such as the Duke of Buckingham! He will be insulted by the very notion-"

"You are rather bold, sir, to question the judgment of your King so openly that you would disrespect him not only before his council, but also before the Dowager Queen," remarked Kate, calmly turning her attentions back to LaMarque as she frowned heavily at him. "When you yourself have yet to offer nothing but the demand for further bloodshed in a battle that you do not intend to lead."

His gaze narrowed dangerously. "You presume-"

"I presume nothing sir," she quickly countered. "For these are only the facts that you have presented in this meeting. You call for war, which will lead this country further into debt, cost us numerous fathers and sons and achieve what? Absolutely nothing, for you have no way of knowing that war is what the English are seeking. You only presume that this is their goal."

LaMarque continued to stare across the table at Katherine, his dark gaze settled so firmly on her slender form that he barely seemed to register the looming presence of her father who stood closely to her side. With both of her hands firmly pressed into the table and her weight shifted forward the young woman stared him down. It was just the two of them, battling it out silently to see which would buckle first. Neither was willing to relinquish their stance, yet it was clear that LaMarque did not at all appreciate the words that had slipped through her lips. She had accused him of cowardice before his King, of selfish desires that would ultimately lead to a savage outcome. She cared not that she was standing in the presence of royalty. And worse, they would likely stand in support of her because she was currently basking in the King's favour.

The harlot, he thought angrily to himself. She had the King wrapped around her little finger at this point and she well knew it. It was written across her face. Even if they were to openly deny any form of relationship before the council he was convinced that she was only the latest mistress that his King had taken into his bed. How she had wormed her way beyond her normal duties as his lover was beyond him. The only thing preventing LaMarque from challenging her on standing in that position was the fact that she had musketeers on her side, and certainly the affection of the King.

But she would fall, he thought pleasantly. Like all others before her, the King would soon tire of this Katherine woman and set her aside. There was nothing special about her that would keep her in his good graces for much longer, regardless of how skilled she might be in bed.

"The King has made his wishes known," Anne said lightly, her dark eyes glancing around at each person present from where she sat in her upholstered chair. "Katherine will write to the Duke of Buckingham on behalf of His Majesty, inviting him to attend a peace summit here at the earliest convenience. And with any luck, we shall have peace."

That was the end of the matter, and they knew it. The fact that Anne had spoken to the council was a sure sign that they were now dismissed from the privy chamber, and had the whole council bowing in her direction as they muttered their hurried apologies at her. Even LaMarque hastened to collect his papers as he bent as low as his pudgy waist would allow. He left with the rest of the council, but not before shooting one last threatening glare in Katherine's direction as he went. Aramis stirred at his daughter's side and quickly stepped as if to place himself between the two of them, but Katherine's arm stopped him. If this man thought he was going to intimidate her then he was going to be sorely disappointed, she had decided.

As the older faction of the council began to disappear the others slowly began to show their own respects for the King and his mother, moving to follow quietly from the room. Only D'Artagnan remained with Kate and Aramis, hesitating for a moment to share a concerned glance with Anne before she quietly shooed him away with a small gesture of her hand. Again he bowed. He could do nothing further for the moment.

"You should have that hand tended to, Your Majesty."

And with that he removed himself from the room, Aramis hot on his heels at Katherine's silent behest. Sensing that the two of them needed to be alone for a moment, Anne rose elegantly from her chair and waved her hand when Katherine made to curtsey before her. There were no other eyes upon them, and as of late she had taken to trying to convince the young woman to cease her courtly formalities. It hadn't worked as well as Anne had hoped, but it was a slow progress that she hoped to improve in time. The Dowager Queen paused long enough to give her son's shoulder to gentle squeeze and then she two was gone.

It was just Kate and Philippe now. But the King had turned his eyes away from her and stared intently at something before him, something that she hadn't been able to name even as she turned her head to follow his gaze. He was troubled, anyone could see that. His council hadn't exactly come to an agreement over how to handle the presence of English spies in his kingdom. If anything, they seemed to be entirely divided. And that could only serve to plague his mind further as he struggled to adopt the persona that had been handed to him upon the death of his twin brother.

"You lost your temper today," Katherine told him softly, leaning back against the edge of the table as she dropped her eyes to the floor. "That is unlike you."

"How can I be expected to keep my temper when my council argues like that?"

Katherine sighed softly and turned her head a little, eyeing the handkerchief that was held so tightly in his closed fist. Even now she could see hints of red from where the material had captured the blood from his wounds and allowed it to spread along its cotton surface. He clenched it so tightly that his fist was beginning to tremble, a movement that immediately brought Kate away from the edge of the table and found her kneeling before him as she took his quivering hand in her two smaller ones. Immediately it seemed that she had an impact upon him as their skin made contact.

All at once Philippe sighed heavily and slumped forward, bringing his other hand across his eyes as the tension slowly began to fall away from his body. His fingers grew slack and nearly dropped the soiled handkerchief in the process, leaving it up to her fingers to hold it against his palm. Then he leaned backward into his chair and let his head rest heavily against the cushioned back as his eyes turned upward to the ceiling.

"Forgive me," he murmured softly to her. "You were the only one to say anything useful and I am snapping at you…I don't mean to."

The brunette shook her head quickly and pressed a soft kiss against his knuckles. "There is nothing to apologize for," Katherine told him firmly. "You were angry. I understand-"

"But I should not be taking that anger out on you."

He looked at her with such intensity now that Katherine was momentarily taken aback, lips parted slightly as she gasped. This was twice now in as many days that the two found themselves to be alone together when they could so easily be seen by others, and yet she couldn't bring herself to pull away from him as she should. She knew how bad it would look for a young woman to be discovered kneeling before the King in such a fashion, even if there was not the slightest piece of clothing or hair out of place to disgrace her. But the court thrived on rumours, whether they were true or not. They lived on the piece of gossip that could be provided to them, and she was absolutely certain that after last night there were whispers of the relationship that the King shared with her.

And when she felt her cheeks flush under his eyes, she knew that her emotions had betrayed her yet again. Any passing soul who might happen upon them would know without a doubt that she was taken with the King of France. And he with her.

"Summon the physician to look at your hand."

Philippe frowned. "But you-"

"Yes, I know I could," she offered gently, letting the fingers of one hand graze his cheek. "I know, my love. But if you allow for the physician to tend to you, it will be one less thing that people can whisper about later."

"He won't do nearly as good a job as you would."

At that, the young woman had to smile. "Perhaps not. But he will do his duty. Of that I am absolutely sure."

When he reached out to cup the one side of her face with his hand, Katherine instinctively leaned into his warm palm and smiled gently at him. "You are far wiser than I am, you know that?"

"No," she told him smoothly, pressing a quick kiss into his palm. "Not wiser. But I care more for your safety and your reputation with the people that many others do. And I will do nothing to compromise their new love for their King."

Philippe breathed another sigh as he allowed his thumb to graze the soft flesh of her cheek, wishing once more that they were not forced to keep their love so carefully hidden. It nagged at him each and every single day that he had fallen in love with her and yet was unable to express his affections even the slightest bit. Still he was urged by his council and by many others of high rank to take a bride and create a political alliance with a foreign power to protect the interests of France from those who might see her destroyed. But he couldn't do it. Not when his heart was already given to another.

"Go to your father. Much of this talk will have upset him, I'm sure."

She bit gently down on her lip as she hesitated, but she knew that she couldn't argue with him now. Bowing her head, Katherine allowed her fingers to slip away from his injured hand and instead press against her own knees to help her get up off of the floor. Once on her feet she dropped into a small curtsey, her eyes locked on the floor. And then she moved toward the door, leaving Philippe alone with his thoughts in the vastness of the privy chamber. She paused only once more before as she stood in the doorway, turning back to see if perhaps he had moved. But he hadn't, not even to watch her leave. So Katherine dropped her head and slipped out the door, an expression of sadness now on her face. There was nothing else that she could do now.

Nothing but begin composing a letter to the Duke of Buckingham.