Chapter 4. Stranger Than You Dreamt It
In her three months working at the palace, Corinne had learned more about swordsmanship and fighting than she had in seventeen years of training back on her family farm. Her days were spent cleaning the corridors, then fencing with her teacher below into the wee hours of the night. It was exhausting. Some days she felt like quitting her midnight lessons, but then she remembered that musketeers never quit and she certainly wasn't about to simply because she was tired. In the end, she knew it would be worth it. Her teacher promised that much.
Corinne still did not know much about the man who now claimed lordship over her. He hardly spoke at all during their sessions unless it was to chastise her and he never once removed the porcelain mask covering the right half of his face. She often wondered if he was some sort of criminal and the mask helped to hide his identity, but then why not cover his whole face. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. Perhaps he was just eccentric. She tried not to think about it as the mirror slid open.
He was not there.
Corinne's brow furrowed. He was never tardy to their sessions and would sharply scold her if she was even the slightest bit late. What if he didn't want to teach her anymore? Anguish washed through her. How would she become a musketeer now?
A dim, flickering light caught her attention. She moved towards it, though it was further down the passageway than she had ever been. The light seemed to beckon her.
He was there surrounded by countless open books, scribbling furiously in an open volume in front of him. He flipped the pages of a few books and wrote more.
"Teacher?" Corinne called. He did not turn. "I am here for my lesson."
He made no motions to suggest he had even heard her. His focus was entirely on the books he was reading.
Corinne dared to move closer. Still, he did nothing. A dangerous thought seeped into her mind and before she could stop herself, her hand tore away the mask.
An inhuman wail filled her ears as he advanced upon her. Corinne toppled backwards, eyes wide.
"Damn you!" He roared, his brown eyes wild. "Curse you!" He caught her by the wrists. "Is this what you wanted to see?!" The left side of his face was like any normal man, handsome even, but the right… Corinne gasped, stifling the urge to scream.
The skin was a deathly pale pulled taut over crooked muscles. His eyelid sagged and drooped, and Corinne swore his right eye was a lighter brown than the left. The right side of his nose collapsed in on itself. There was a deep gash on his forehead, exposing what she hoped wasn't bone, that looked as if it had never healed. His upper lip was swollen and distorted.
"Damn you," he said again, though much quieter, and released her. Corinne crept away from him quick as she could.
Another wail washed through the great underground corridor.
"Oh Corinne," he moaned, his face in his hands, shoulders hunched and shaking violently. It took her a moment to realize he was sobbing.
Pity swelled in Corinne's heart. Feeling rather guilty for what she had done, she inched towards her grief-stricken teacher, and with a trembling hand held the mask out to him. He snatched it greedily and replaced it, smoothing out his long dark hair.
"All right then," he cleared this throat and rose to his feet, pulling Corinne up with him. "You have to leave now. Our normal lessons will resume tomorrow night." He presented her a rose produced from thin air and took several steps back. Before she could blink, he was gone.
Corinne stood there feeling cold and alone, wishing it had all been a dream.
...
Corinne, why would you do that? Poor Louis. He's got some strength if he still plans on teaching her after that. Do you think she'll come back? What's going to happen?