It's been another crazy busy day! Thank you all once more for the wonderful feedback. It means a lot!

Onward we go...

Cooked chicken had a distinct smell. It didn't matter how it was cooked, roasted, baked, boiled or stewed, the aroma was always the same. While strong herbs and vegetables could add to the aroma, causing mouths to water and stomachs to growl, the chicken itself was distinct. Amelia added cooked onions, garlic, carrots, turnips and mushrooms seasoned with salt to the pot while the water continued to gurgle and burp as it worked to boil. It was the first time in months that she had the pleasure of serving someone other than herself and she took pride in her efforts.

"You must be someone of importance if a King's Musketeer is escorting you," Amelia said.

She cut up the liver, gizzard and heart for her cat and placed the organs into a small dish on the floor near a bowl of water. A scratch at the door indicated that the orange tabby knew it was dinner time and Amelia cracked it open enough for him to enter. She glanced toward the lean-to and saw Athos sitting on the ground with his back to the underside of the saddle and his feet near the fire. "Are they all like him?"

Anne frowned and asked, "Like him?"

Amelia shrugged and tilted her head knowingly. "He has chosen to face the harshness of the cold to allow you your privacy." She looked around her simple home. "He was going to join us until he realized my home lacks privacy."

Anne swallowed, turned toward Amelia, and said, "Most of them," she said. "They're the most honorable group of men I've ever had the pleasure of knowing." The amount of respect in the tone of her voice caused Amelia to take a deep breath and looked at her in question.

Amelia closed the door. "You know more than one?" She returned to the fireplace, stirred the thick stew, and then looked again at Anne, who nodded.

There was an uncomfortable silence until Anne cleared her throat and said, "They're the king's personal guards… They protect their queen as well."

Amelia paused in her actions while hunched over the pot that hung from the trammel hook. The heat of the fire caused beads of sweat to dot her brow, and then suddenly she tapped the handle of her long wooden spoon on the edge of the pot. Amelia swallowed, cleared her throat, and then swung the iron pot back over the fire. "Your Majesty?" Awkwardly she bowed.

"Please," Anne said. "You've been so gracious to allow me into your home… there is no need for formality." She wiped at the dirt on her dress.

"Why aren't you in Paris? Why are you traveling alone?"

"I wasn't alone," Anne corrected. "Our convoy was attacked on the way to our destination — we were separated. It was Father Andre who helped us."

"The king?"

Anne sighed and shook her head as she looked again toward the fire. "I don't know."

Amelia wiped her hands on her apron. "We must get you back to Paris —"

"No," Anne said. "I need to travel to the Chateau de Fontainebleau… it's where we were traveling before the attack."

Amelia exhaled and then exhaustedly took a seat in the chair across from Anne. "What can I do?"

Anne smiled warmly and said, "You've done enough. You've provided me with the warmth of your fire, the comfort of a chair, and food to eat. You've done enough —"

Amelia raised her eyebrows and looked toward the cauldron that stood next to the door. She then turned her attention back to the queen and looked critically at her, the circles beneath her eyes, the chill that persisted, her belly that she frequently rubbed. "How far along are you?"

Anne swallowed.

"I gave birth to three girls and two boys," Amelia shrugged. "I know the signs."

"A few months," Anne said sadly. She didn't know this woman, but after years of listening to her ladies-in-waiting gossip and merely tolerate her presence, she felt comfortable speaking to someone she didn't know, someone who didn't see her as a threat, as the "Spanish bride," as someone who was just as scared as anyone else. Anne didn't feel the need to hide, to raise her chin and defy her feelings, to prove to those around that she was stronger than all of them combined. Anne exhaled slowly and licked her bottom lip. "I'm terrified I'm going to lose this child."

Amelia cocked an eyebrow and said, "Are you cramping?"

"No," Anne said. "No… I just fear—"

"You're going to be a mother — there is always fear involved," Amelia said with a smile. "You're exhausted, Your Majesty. You need some rest, a good meal… and," her smile broadened, "a warm bath." She stood and dusted the front of her apron. She returned to the pot of steaming soup, and using a long hook, pulled the pot toward her. "My children are your age," she said as she walked to a cabinet and removed several bowls. "I still worry about them."

Anne chuckled and nodded in thanks when Amelia handed her a bowl. Steam billowed, but Anne closed her eyes and placed her face over the bowl and appreciated the aroma.

Amelia spooned several large chunks of chicken into another bowl and topped it off with a ladle of broth and vegetables. She then grabbed a heavy quilted blanket from the narrow bed. "I'll take this to your musketeer. He needs his strength to get you where you're going."

"Thank you," Anne said and watched Amelia open the door and leave.

Anne took a sip of soup and closed her eyes. It was warm, flavorful, and satisfying. She had gone days with little to eat and the broth Athos had made the night before did little but warm her belly. Father Andre's gifts of supplies had helped them survive, but it was hardly enough for both of them and Athos was just as exhausted, and in need of sustenance as she was. She looked toward the flames and listened to the snapping of wood and then looked at the cat that was licking himself after his satisfying meal.

She was grateful for Athos' presence, his calm manner and his determination. He had made her safety his priority, persisting despite his discomfort, and keeping her engaged when she moments of melancholy overwhelmed her. While she admired him and appreciated him, he wasn't Aramis. Right now, she wanted to be held, comforted, and supported in a way that Athos could not offer, and she regretted her feelings of wanting Aramis here with her. Had he been with her, she quietly wondered if she would have left everything she knew to be with him and if he would not do the same.

Anne turned toward the door when it opened and watched Amelia, with Athos' help, carry a large tub into the room.

"Majesty," Athos said, and positioned the tub in front of the fireplace. "Are you well?"

Anne smiled and said, "Very."

Athos nodded once and then looked at Amelia.

"Go eat, young man," Amelia said. "I can manage the rest of this."

Athos bowed, looked at the queen and then at Amelia, and then left the house. He closed the door behind him and walked back to the lean-to.

Amelia sighed, wiped the front of her apron, and placed her hands on her hips. She looked at Anne and said, "Are they all as good looking?"

Anne giggled, covered her mouth with her fingers, and deliberately avoided eye contact. "Most of them."

Amelia exhaled through puffed cheeks. "Goodness — that must be quite a distraction."

Anne's cheeks turned red, and she nodded. "It is."

Amelia smiled and then said, "He has agreed that you need to rest. After a warm bath, you can rest and then you'll both depart in the morning."

"Thank you," Anne said.

"If the other musketeers are as devoted to their queen as he is," Amelia smiled, "you're very protected."