Aramis opened his eyes. He was alive. That was good. And he was indoors, lying on a feather bed, his chest bound tightly with bandages. And a beautiful woman was beside him, holding his hand and gazing at him with gentle concern, her hair loose over her shoulders -

He blinked.

Then he struggled to rise. "Your Majesty -"

Anne put her fingers to his lips. "Hush. I am incognito." She smiled, and it was a smile of humour and affection.

Aramis fell back on the mound of pillows. His doublet lay draped over a chest. In it, he hoped, was the Queen's glove, since this morning his dearest possession. He shifted, and found the ache around his chest bearable.

"The women helped me to dress your injury," Anne said. "They have been very kind. They tell me it is not a serious wound."

"It's nothing," said Aramis. He sat, and flexed his sword arm. It was good. All other parts appeared to function. He had been lucky.

Anne watched his trials with amused eyes. "Your friends have gone off to Racaut's. You're missing all the fun."

Aramis sighed and touched his bandages with wary fingers. "Where are we?"

"An inn called the Cockerel. Their best room. Athos insisted on it for me, and then I insisted on it for you." Anne laughed. "He didn't know what to say."

Aramis smiled too. "Athos is the noblest of us all. His pure heart cannot imagine you troubled by woodlice and stag beetles."

"An unpleasant creature tried to crawl over my pillow at the Duke's house," Anne said in a different tone. "I smashed it with my hair brush."

She looked away.

Aramis raised himself on the pillows a little. Anne poured him a cup of water from the jug on the floor. He did not truly need her to hold the cup to his lips, but her tender ministrations were so pleasant that he did not resist.

"Athos will ensure that your ladies are safe," Aramis said.

"I trust he will also arrest the Duke," Anne said. Her mouth twisted. "And throw him into whichever oubliette is deepest and darkest!"

She caught herself, and breathed deliberately.

"Are you well, your Majesty," Aramis asked cautiously. " Perhaps some water -" And it was his turn to pour, and then proffer the cup.

She was staring at him, eyes wide. She had regained the colour in her face after the terror of the climb and the robbery, but still she seemed fragile and young, unrecognisable as a monarch in her simple dress and bare arms, a single ornament at her throat. Also, Aramis saw, she still wore his cloak.

"Tell me," Aramis instructed with an edge to his voice. "What did that brute do? If he has harmed you in even the slightest -"

"I am well. Thank you. It was dread of his intention which was so distressing."

So Racaut had intended -

Against the Queen!

"They will kill him for this," he reassured her.

"Good," she said. Then she stopped. "But - these accusations must never be made. I was alone with this man. My honour -"

"D'Artagnan will think of something," Aramis said. "He always does."

"You should rest," Anne said after a while. "If you like I will sing to you."

"Your M-"

"Anne," she said. "I am only Anne, here."

She smoothed his hair back from his brow.

"You are truly regal," he whispered.

"Hush. Go to sleep."

And she took his hand again, quite firmly, and glared at him until he shut his eyes. Then in a sweet voice she sang an old country song, and another, and then in Spanish, and then he was asleep. Anne watched him a little while and then, overcome with the excitement of the day, she lay her head on her arms and slept too.

Anne was woken by the sound of Aramis coming through the door of the little chamber, fully dressed in boots and cloak. He was unbuckling his sword and taking off his feathered hat quite matter of factly, like a farmer coming back from the fields or a gentleman returning from an afternoon of sport. The sun was slanting soft and low through the tiny window.

"Where have you been?" asked Anne. Her hair was in disarray. She pushed it back from her face and peered at Aramis. "You're better!"

"It was only a scratch," Aramis said. He waved a hand, dismissing the wound. "I woke up restored, and went to find the others and Racaut."

"That dog!' cried Anne, leaping up. "I insist that you allow me to punish him."

"Ah," said Aramis. The feathers in his hat wafted guiltily. "That might be a little tricky. I must apologise, madam."

"What? Why?" Anne was unaccustomed to being denied.

Aramis eyed her warily and decided to bow, long and low and with great grace. Anne was mollified, until Aramis explained, "He's already dead."