Chapter Eight

Alexander was getting really sick of waking up in unfamiliar places.

"Meester 'amilton," The French woman purred as his eyes fluttered open. Alexander's heart sank. He had been hoping that the robbery had been some kind of nightmare. "'ow nice of you to join us."

Alexander sat up, wincing at the pain in his head, before looking around his new environment. He was in a shabby little shack, sitting on a cold, stone floor. The French woman was sitting beside him, smiling at him with something that might have looked like affection on a less-threatening face.

The French woman wasn't alone. There were three other men in the room, all looking at him.

"What am I doing here?" Alexander demanded, looking around the room suspiciously.

"We have taken you," The French woman said, matter-of-factly. "You will be of much use to us."

"Who are you?"

"I am Sophie," The woman's name was Sophie. She waved at the men in the background. "These are my brothers. They are not so important."

"Why have you taken me, Sophie?" Alexander knew that patience would be his friend in such a situation.

"Because you are 'andsome," Sophie answered with a smirk. "And the queen likes 'andsome men."

"The queen?" Alexander was having trouble keeping up.

"Yes," Sophie seemed more amused than impatient. "There have been rumors around the palace that the queen grows restless. Whoever 'as the queen's ear 'as the queen's influence. I intend to 'ave both."

"You can't think that I…"

"You go to court tomorrow. We already 'ave your papers."

"That's ridiculous, I can't…"

"Non-negotiable, Meester 'amilton," Sophie said firmly. "You play our game, or you die."

"Monsieur Hamilton," Alexander could not believe that he was bowing in front of King Louis XVI, let alone the fact that the King of France had just said his name. "Welcome to my court. I hope that you will find everything to your liking."

"I'm sure that I will, sire," As he stood up from his bow, Alexander was careful to shift his gaze to the queen, Marie Antoinette exactly the way that Sophie had coached him to do. She had been looking at him as though he were no more exciting than a piece of furniture, but the moment their eyes locked, her demeanor changed. A wry smile played on her lips before she opened her fan, hiding her mouth. Her eyes, though, they still contained the same flirtatious laughter that her smile had conveyed.

But Sophie had instructed him not to let his gaze linger. His eyes had to suggest the idea of an interest, but his behavior had to suggest that such an interest would not be maintained without some sort of gesture on the queen's part.

Once he left the king's audience and was permitted to join the party among French nobles, Alexander found himself a glass of wine and set to work gulping it down. He was supposed to be rescuing John. He was not supposed to be vying for influence in the French court for a woman who had kidnapped him.

But to rescue John, he had to be alive. If he was going to survive, he was going to have to ensnare the queen.

John woke up sprawled on the floor of his cell, greeting the world with spotty vision accompanied by a splitting headache and the taste of blood in his mouth. "Ow…" He rubbed his head as he struggled to stand.

"Be quiet, Laurens," a guard barked from outside.

John felt aches in his limbs, probably from falling forward in the chair during the interrogation. He shifted around so he was sitting up against the wall. He let out a tired breath, looking at his arm. There was a bruise where Levi had punched him, all shades of purple. "That can't be good…" he mumbled. He felt his face. He couldn't see it currently, but he had a black eye and multiple scrapes and cuts from hitting the floor. His lip was sliced a bit, which was why he could taste the blood.

His legs also ached. He didn't know this since he'd been unconscious, but Levi had thrown him back into the cell like a rag doll before leaving. John had been unconscious for a little over a day.

He noticed that his journal was gone as he looked weakly around the room. "No…" he muttered.

What he also did not know was that Levi had returned the journal to whom it belonged to. According to a small inscription on the front cover, it belonged to Eddy.

"Hey, Reg, give this to that brother of yours." Levi threw the notebook hard at Reginald. It hit him in the chest and he winced.

Not questioning Levi out of fear, Reggie regained his composure and handed it to Eddy the next time their paths crossed. "Officer Wyatt told me this was yours. He found it in Laurens' cell."

Eddy paled at hearing Levi's name. Everyone knew he was merciless when it came to beating on people, both physically and mentally.

He took the journal back to his quarters and began to reluctantly page through it. He saw the picture of him and Reggie and stared.

He flipped to the next page to a sketch of someone clearly close to John. It was very detailed unlike some of the other sketches, with the man's name scrawled across the bottom. "Alexander," he read out loud. No other sketch was labeled.

He closed the notebook, put it inside his coat, and walked to the tower. He went into John's cell to see him curled up against the wall, clearly injured. "Oh no…" He rushed over and knelt down in front of John. "You need a doctor." This was clearly Wyatt's work. He cursed under his breath.

"Huh! Someone there?" John mumbled. "Everything hurts…"

"Laurens, I'm going to get a doctor. Don't move." Eddy stood up and walked out of the cell.

"Don't leave. I'm lonely…"

"I have to. You need to stay there, okay?"

"Fine, be like that." John had tears in his eyes.

Eddy looked away so he could focus. He'd ask about Alexander later. Now, he needed to hurry.

He found the doctor and told him there was an injured prisoner.

"What? Take me to him."

Eddy nodded and led the doctor to John. "Oh my…Help me get him to my quarters. I have supplies there."

They took John to the doctor's room, where he immediately fell asleep as he was placed on the cot.

Eddy could see John's injuries clearly now, and they looked awful.

"He may be in here for some time. We can't waste it, if some diplomat found out about this, they'd find some way to make it into a war crime." The doctor shook his head.

"Thanks, Doctor Sherwood." Eddy left. He winced as he heard a scream of pain as the doctor began to examine John's wounds.