It was perhaps the most awkward experience of my life, dragging unconscious men and hiding them with Milady. For a while we had worked in silence, but eventually I could not stand the tense silence any longer. "What are your intentions with my brother?" Demanding answers, I turned upon Milady with my fingers itching to be grasping a weapon. She looked at me, calm and completely unreadable.
"You mean my husband?" My brow furrowed deeply.
"In the view of the law, you are dead, and my brother a widower. You have no such claim upon him any longer." To this Milady arched an eyebrow, as if considering, before tilting her head in acknowledgement. "I noticed him with you, before he left." Stepping towards her, Milady blinked as I thrust a finger against her chest. "If you hurt him…or think to claw your way back into his heart…"
"I can assure you, I have no such designs upon Athos. That chapter of our lives is over," she assured me, but I could not take the world of a liar. I scowled at her, seething with hatred and disgust that I was forcing myself to stand in her presence, the woman who had murdered my brother Thomas. She stared back at me, her face a mask I could not translate or understand. "Once upon a time, you used to look upon me with such devotion," Milady murmured, a soft nostalgia creeping through the contours of her mask, "now you look at me as if I were diseased."
"You murdered Thomas," snapping at her, I jerked myself out of her reach when her hand had lifted towards me.
"To protect my honour, and my marriage with Athos." Once again her expression hardened, her emotions retreating behind the safety of her mask. "Did Athos not tell you what your brother tried to do to me?"
"You say that he…" for a moment, I could not bring myself to speak the words, thinking of Anne and how I had discovered her at the mercy of Rochefort. To think of such a moment but replace Rochefort with my own dear brother Thomas…my entire character flatly refused to believe it, obstinately disregarding any possible notion that my brother could be of the same cut of cloth as Rochefort. "You are so convoluted in lies, I do not believe you capable of speaking the truth."
"Believe what you will, I knew from the very beginning that you would side with your brother. You were always so besotted with him." For a moment, Milady looked as if she wanted to say more. Her face cracked, half in pain and half in anger, before she tightened her lips and turned away. "We can never go back to the way things were, so why bother digging up the past? I am the villain in your story, the witch who burned down the princess's palace…let this be the ending, then we will never have to look upon one another again." I chose not to respond.
Allowing her to leave, I mulled over her words. It was true, she was the villain in my story, but she had made herself so. My brother…Thomas…I could not bring myself to believe that he would have ever made such an assault upon another woman. Yet…in the back of my mind, I began to think of him with a mature mind and not the rosy innocence of youth. He had always been good to me. Kind. Smiling. Playful. I was his beloved younger sister, but I began to think of instances which conflicted with the image I held of him.
Catherine had been his fiancée, but now that I thought upon it, I realised that I had no memories of Thomas being loving towards her. He had never been unkind, but there was a distinct lack of warmth which had been so readily given to me. Thomas had been a boisterous character, and I also recollected that Thomas often went drinking. He loved liveliness, and often kept company which perhaps had not been appropriate. In a faded memory, I remembered one night I had been awoken by my brother's drunken revelries, a heated argument between him and Catherine drawing me from my room.
He had brought his new friends home with him, intending to partake of our father's wine cellar, but Catherine had attempted to reason with him. I had not seen it, but I had heard something hitting soft flesh and Catherine's whimper. My sleep addled mind had not fully understood what that sound had meant, but now I realised that Thomas had lay his hand upon Catherine. The matter was settled only when Athos was roused from his bedchamber, and dismissed Thomas's companions for being drunken and disorderly. I had watched through an ajar door before returning to bed and had not thought of it again until now. Doubts began to creep in, but I hastily shook them off. This was exactly what Milady did. She twisted the truth and planted subtle manipulations to make you doubt yourself. I would not fall for it. I would not betray my brother's memory.
Placing all thoughts of Milady aside, I stormed back into the queen's apartments to stay close to Constance, for we could do nothing now but attempt to look as unsuspicious as possible. We spent the rest of the evening with Marguerite and the dauphin, for there was nowhere else we could go without the presence of Anne that would not raise questions. Marguerite looked quite done for, and I worried for her health but she insisted that she was alright and refused to go, holding little Louis even as he refused to settle.
We had brought him to the king's apartments under Rochefort's orders, having cited that since the queen was unfit to care for the dauphin, he must be kept under the watchful eye of his father the king. I only cared that little Louis was safe, but even as his cries and wails increased, Marguerite would not hand him over. "Why will he not be quiet?" The king complained, pinching the bridge of his nose whilst suffering the headache which had possessed him all day. "Does he not love his father?"
"He will not settle without his mother." Marguerite answered wearily, looking quite fit to drop as she walked with the boy, jostling him to try and soothe him but to no avail.
"For heaven's sake, give him to me," I commanded a little more sharply than I intended, giving Marguerite no choice but to let me take the prince from her arms. Perhaps whatever ailed her was something little Louis could sense, for the moment he was within my grasp he quietened, seemingly recognise me as he wriggled for a moment. "There now, little love, everything is alright, hush…hush…" soothing him, I began to sing to him, taking him a little further away from the king to settle him.
"Your majesty!" Hearing the panicked gasp of Marguerite, my voice halted, looking to her to see that she had lurched forwards towards the king, who froze with his glass of wine halfway to his lips.
"What is it?" He questioned, frowning at her through the unkempt curls of his dark hair. Before Marguerite could answer, the daunting figure of Rochefort stepped into view. "Why is she staring? It's very unnerving." For a moment, Rochefort held command over Marguerite's attention until finally, she turned away.
"What are they doing here?" Now his attention was upon Constance and I, so I naturally faced my back to him to shield little Louis from his view, wanting to protect him from that grotesque man however possible.
"They offered to help."
"You don't need help." He was unnecessarily harsh upon Marguerite. Could he not see that she was about ready to swoon? "Take the dauphin away. The King needs rest." Having no choice but to obey as Rochefort held all the power, I retreated back and placed the dauphin into his cradle, soothing him to sleep until his eyes had fluttered closed.
"Should we stay with you, Marguerite?" Constance offered, but Marguerite shook her head. She could barely bring herself to speak, her voice catching upon every word as she told us that it would be best if we left, that she would manage alone. I did not wish to, thinking that I would refuse, but Constance gently took my arm. "Call for us if you have any need, or you want to rest." Then she guided me away, seemingly knowing that in this battle too, we had lost.
"I do not like this," I announced flatly. "I do not like this at all. I feel so…powerless."
"We're women in a man's world, Madeleine. We'll always be powerless," it irked me to end that she was right.
"Powerless, but not helpless." I finally determined, allowing myself a small smile as I drew myself closer to Constance and lay my hand over hers. "We must simply bide our time." Watching and waiting was a tricky business, especially whilst knowing that our enemy was just beyond our doorstep. Whatever game Rochefort was now playing, it took one nefarious turn after another. Constance and I were awoken in the night, startled from our sleep and naturally grasped for one another as we shared a bed to hear the commotion outside. The king had been poisoned.
Immediately I flung back the covers and made to go see for myself, but I was refused entry. Rochefort had tightened his grip over the palace all the more, and I feared for the king's life as the rumours began to spread of poisoning. I fretted, biting down upon my lip as I waited all through the night until finally it seemed that the king would live. I knew. Constance did too. Rochefort would come for the queen next, only he would not find her. She was long gone, and only Constance and I remained.
We sat together side by side, hands clasped tightly together as we awaited for what came next. The footsteps preceded his arrival, and Constance tightened her grip upon my hand. Saying nothing, I took a deep, calming breath to steady my nerves so that when the doors burst open with a crash, I did not flinch. Striding inside, Rochefort looked around the empty chambers, peering with his one good eye as the other was concealed behind an eye patch, bearing the still raw scar of my dagger across the stretch of his face. "Where is the queen?" He demanded, now turning upon us. "Where is she?" I watched as his hand curled into a fist.
At first, neither of us said anything, merely looked at him with unaffected gazes, holding one another's hands still. Finally, Constance answered. "Gone." For a moment I feared Rochefort was going to strike us, his fists trembling at his side whilst glaring down upon us. I was prepared to strike back, to protect Constance, but in the end, he restrained his hand.
"Take them." Upon his order, several guards approached us after Rochefort moved away and we were forced to our feet. They were not gentle with us, pulling us with pinching grip and I soon had fresh bruises to match those around my wrist. We were marched to the king's apartments and forced inside, Lemay already present. He looked to us sharply, his gaze tense in apprehension. "Madame Bonacieux, comtesse…what is happening?"
"Do not alarm yourself, professor. This misunderstanding shall soon be resolved," despite my reassurances which were solely for his benefit, I doubted that anything would be so simply. I hoped to at least put Lemay at ease for a little while, and he managed a shaky smile as Constance and I were forced to stand at the foot of the king's bed. He was clearly ailing, pallid and weak from the poisoning attempt. My accusatory glare flickered towards Rochefort, wondering what his goal was in this. If he was the culprit of the poisoning, which I suspected he must be for it was all far too convenient, then why allow the king to live? Kill the king then he consolidates power.
He moved towards the king's side, looming over him as he wallowed in pain. "We have found those responsible, your majesty, at the heart of the queen's household." Reporting his falsehoods, I started forwards but Constance swiftly grasped my hand, keeping me from bursting into a rage. Beside me, Lemay stuttered in disbelief, proclaiming that these accusations were an absurdity. "These two were the means of executing the plot."
"He's lying, sire. The queen would never hurt you!"
"You discredit us, sir," I growled darkly, forcing myself to remain as calm as possible. "Such foul lies should not be uttered in the presence of his majesty. You accuse us with no evidence." Overflowing with nervousness, Lemay continued to further our plea of innocence.
"The medicine I prescribed was a mild opiate to soothe a headache!"
"With the bitter scent of poison?" Bringing the bottle in question, Rochefort held it under Lemay's nose to allow him to catch its scent. I could not smell it myself, but from the shift in his expression, I could see that Lemay had immediately detected that there was something wrong with the medicine he had prescribed. It had been altered. Tainted.
"Someone must have interfered with the bottle," he insisted, which was not an unreasonable claim, but Rochefort was determined to place the blame upon us.
"The very fact the queen has fled the palace is an admission of her guilt."
"The queen fled out of fear for her safety!" Crying out desperately, I hoped that at the very least the king was lucid enough to hear me, that even a little of the truth might reach him. "She has been deceived by you, Rochefort, who sought to do her harm and even now you attempt to condemn her character."
"What harm could possibly befall the queen in her own palace?" Releasing a guttural snarl, I made forwards once more but Constance continued to hold me back. Behind us, I heard the guards take a menacing step closer, a silent threat for me to not cause trouble or attempt any harm upon their leader.
"Tell the king what you told me." Rochefort suddenly spoke, directing the instruction to Marguerite who until now had stood silently at the king's side, paler and gaunter than ever. I looked to her sharply, wondering what was happening until she began to speak and it all became clear.
"Constance and Lemay are intimate," she lied, speaking utter nonsense before the king. "The doctor would do anything she asked, and the comtesse is solely loyal to her majesty. The queen met with them in secret." Only then did I realise that we had a snake in our midst, and it wore the face of Marguerite.
"Liar! Treasonous witch!" Hissing between my teeth, Marguerite flinched visibly whilst staring at the floor, unable to raise her face for shame.
"Marguerite?" Hurt painted Constance's voice, so I took her hand in mind to comfort her. "Marguerite, what are you saying?"
"These are falsehoods. Professor Lemay is a respectable surgeon and an honest man. He would never forsake his profession by committing the heinous sin of murder. Furthermore, Constance and I are loyal to both the king and queen, devoted servants of France. There is no gain to us for attempting to poison the king!" I tried to plead with him, wanting to make the king see sense, but he was too weak to listen, and refused to entertain any notion of our innocence.
"I cannot look at them," he murmured vaguely, forcing Rochefort to lean forwards to hear him. "Do what you must, only let me rest." Snapping his fingers, the guards immediately responded.
"I am loyal! Sire! Please! I beg you! I beg you!" Pure terror laced Lemay's voice, crying out for mercy as we were all dragged away.
"Unhand her!" I commanded in outrage the moment someone set their hand upon Constance. "Harm her and I shall ensure that you suffer for it!" Bearing myself against my captors, I ripped myself around to scream over my shoulder. "Rochefort? Rochefort! You will pay for this! Do you hear me? You will burn in hell!" Cursing him with all the power and force I could muster, I howled as I was dragged away, even long after Rochefort was out of my sight. My thoughts turned to Constance and what might become of her, and I ventured to try and stay close to her, but they forcibly separated us.
They kept us away from one another purposefully, and in her absence I could only pace with the fear that she might be harmed. At least, I could not hear her cries of pain when I could clearly hear Lemay's. It tortured me to listen, and so I eventually clamped my hands over my ears and muted the sound as much as I was able, descending to my knees as I gasped for air. "Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with thee…" I began to pray fervently, for it was the only thing which would bring me comfort. "Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death…"
"Your prayers will not save you." Cutting through my prayer, I raised my face to look upon Rochefort. "On your knees already? It appears that you have a guilty conscience."
"The innocent may pray as well as the guilty," rising to my feet, I deftly dusted myself down as I raised my chin with pride. "God knows the truth in all our hearts. I have no fear for my soul." Tilting my head to regard him, I smirked. "Unlike others I could but name."
"Your soul is of no interest to me; all I want is the truth. I am told that you are known for your candid tongue, comtesse. I would have it now speak freely." He stepped closer, approaching the bars of my confining cell and curling his fingers upon the metal. "Tell me everything you know about the queen and her affair with the musketeer Aramis, whom I know you to be close with." So, he had come for information. "Tell me." He commanded, before all at once he rattled the door with a furious bellow. "Tell me!"
"I will say nothing, for there is nothing to say. You are deluded, and nothing more than a monster. I shall not entertain your sordid machinations." To prove my point, I faced my back to Rochefort and refused to look upon him, even as he released a guttural, demonic bellow. I listened to his enraged seething, feeling the burning of his gaze upon my back until finally, he quietened.
"Very well, comtesse. I tried to be fair," he breathed, losing the grasp of his sanity by the moment, and a dark dread began to crawl its way up my spine. "If you will not speak willingly, then I will drag the truth from you by any means at my disposal. And believe me…I have many, many tools to ensure that you scream." As my pulse quickened, my stomach wrapped itself into a tight knot, understanding exactly what this insane creature meant. "You will rue the day you made an enemy of me, Comtesse de la Fère."