Musketeer's Daughter:Unanswered Riddle

Chapter 13: Forbidden

“Are you not feeling yourself this eve? You are behaving rather odd.” Andrién rolled his head about his well-massaged shoulders with a contented sigh. “Merci.”

“There is the matter that I was stupid enough to be caught as well as having to wear a woman’s gown at the King’s court no less.” She tilted her head and forced eye contact. “How else am I to behave?” Remember, obtus, Ysabeau.

“A fight, not tame.”

“Do you wish one?” Oh, and how she could call forth her demons, which they so readily did as now.

Andrién chuckled, shook his head, and stood. “No need for hostility, I know you have been fretting this moment since the day I caught you.” Again, he chuckled, giving her a warm smile as he tugged on her hair. “Nice coif.”

Ysabeau dodged his touch in her hair and moved out into the hallway, Andrién behind. “It was my hair that saved me.” Who knows what his men would have done to her if they discovered her true sex. There were many tales of women losing their virtue. Like the one by the well. A ferocious shiver worked its way between her shoulders.

“It was I who did and no more of this nonsense. Go to your bedchamber and try the frock that awaits you.  Mathieu—” And that was it. Forgotten and dismissed, Ysabeau hunched and glared at him as he joined Mathieu in the antechamber. They sat together as old companions, laughing about old times and old adventures. “That would have been me if ma mère had not left.”

With a jut of her jaw, she stomped to her chamber and slammed the door. Once the key turned with a satisfying snap, she took a few steps backward, dreading the object occupying her bed. Dare she? Though she had never seen a real lady’s frock, she recalled how her mère elaborated on their laces and satins and many layers. Perhaps Andrién presented Marguerite at court as well?

Sudden loneliness assailed her and she sighed. “Too many secrets that break my soul. How can I go on?” Ysabeau squeezed her eyes tight, her fists just as, and she spun around, facing her bed. “On the count of trois. Un, deux, trois!”

Her eyes bulged. At first, at the sight of the mounds of material that drowned her poor bed into oblivion. Then, at the strange contraptions that resembled strongly of the torturing devices Andrién often spoke of. The myriad ranged from yards and yards of fabric, to singular pieces that made no sense. How it spanned the entirety of the bed and part of the floor. She snorted.

“Am I to don every article of drivel?” In fact, the more she studied every whit of material, the more dread engulfed her. “I am not going to wear this!”

She whirled around and stomped to meet the men where they reclined like fat lazy hens in their nests. Andrién sat up expectantly and Mathieu choked.

“I do not suppose you expect me to put on such, such needless absurdity?” Ysabeau stabbed her index finger toward her chamber.

“Of course I do.” Andrién’s lips smiled beneath his mustache, the hair moving with ease below his pointed nose.