Musketeer's Daughter:Unanswered Riddle

Chapter 16: Unscathed

All Ysabeau could do was wonder about in her undergarments—without the corset of course. Each magnificent painting captured her for long amounts of time as did the pieces of ample furniture and graceful sculptures.

A deep, rumbling sound met her hearing and she stilled her breath. Had Marie heard as well? With senses keen, she took silent step after silent step. She had heard of the many secret passages within these walls and how notorious a lover the King was according to Andrién’s accounts. Her heart thrust from her chest.

“Marie?” she whispered, panic seizing her body with chilled shivers. Nothing. Ysabeau backed against the fireplace, but soon imagined beringed fingers reaching out in wanton grasps for her flesh. With as squeak, she leaped away from any and all walls, wondering if the King hid trap doors from the floor. Eyes wide, she bent, staring at her reflection upon the polished floor.

Again, the deep rumble sounded and she jumped. “Marie!” Silly femme! Why would she not answer?

Hurrying from the center of the room, she scurried from the suspicious spot and scanned the area. Marie was nowhere. Had the King seized her maid instead? Flutters of dread made her dizzy and she stumbled to a fainting chair.

The sound moaned again, and she yelped, spinning into the direction from whence it came. Expecting to see the King in his full and fearful glory in such proximity stepping from a hidden door, she placed her hand upon her heart. If only she had her sword! Rather than find the lust-filled King, she found Marie. She lay sprawled across the sofa, mouth open with moisture leaking down her chin. Ysabeau could not help but laugh, her heart returning to normal.

“Aw, poor Marie.” On quiet feet, she walked over to her maid and watched. The woman slept deep . . . The woman slept deep! Though she did not understand her mind insisted upon thinking such insignificance, it moved something big and deep and thrilling.

“Yes, the woman sleeps deep.” With a kick, she ran to her pillows and pulled several goose down feathers that pierced the case. Once rolled into two tight balls, she pushed them into Marie’s ears and shut the drapes. It was nice and dark. “Let her sleep.”

It took no time to remove the women’s undergarments from upon her person and slip into the full uniform she had stowed into her valise. Andrién had insisted she bring it to stow her chemise and other femme things.

A long, delicious sigh filled the air, and Ysabeau glided her thirsty palms along the thick cassock with intricate embroidery. These were the clothing of Andrién when he first started out, the same that the lower rankings wore, the same that dilly dallied within the château. She would blend in quite nicely.

Among Ysabeau’s many weaknesses, an excellent sense of direction was not one of them. She made her way past ladies who openly gawked at her, batting lashes in hopes of capturing her attention. The gentlemen paid her no heed, few nodded at her presence with sophisticated grace, while others gazed at her twice. The wandering musketeers cocked their heads and blinked in wonderment, their brows knitted high over their noses.

This was how it was meant to be. She felt powerful, strong, invincible. How she loved strutting down the fancy corridors in her outfit with swords swaying at her knees. Oh, her silly femme walk would not give her away, she had long ago mastered that.