Musketeer's Daughter:Unanswered Riddle

Chapter 20: Haunting

The King tarried, a twinkle in his eye as he turned to her. The only one not lowered in submission. As quick as she could, Ysabeau recalled her curtsying skill Andrién had taught her and dropped her weight carefully, her head bowed in such a way so that the wig would not tilt.

"Is this your niece I have heard so much about, Andrién?"

"Oui, Your Majesty. Ysabeau de d'Azay-le-Rideau."

Her legs trembled from holding, but she dare not shift. She felt the King moving toward her, everyone's awareness following his whereabouts filled the air.

"Lovely." Harsh glints reflected from his clothing as he neared her, his hand rising, the crook of his beringed finger grazing beneath her chin to lift her head. With a soft intake of breath, she raised her eyes to meet his directly. "Lovely indeed."

Ysabeau's head swam in clouds of haze, her thoughts screaming for attention, yet, incoherent to a dumbfounded state. Once the king past, his entourage tailing Andrién included, she trembled.

"I have you, mademoiselle," Philippe's capable hands gripped her once again.

"I fear I owe you my life by now for the many times you have caught mine." Her voice raspy and soft.

The courtiers rose, their voices a soft whisper. Many eyes turned and glared or studied or admired Ysabeau.

"Your favors are all I require." He smiled and she was not sure whether to entertain what that entailed or not. Ysabeau was on a mission and could not afford love. It complicated matters and not only that, what would Mathieu think? Feel?

"Does Andrién know you have a specific interest in me?" She whispered from the corner of her mouth.

Philippe's chuckle was warm and deep. She liked it. "Why do you think I am your protector, your escort?" He, too, kept his voice low.

"You are not the only one, I fear." A second voice entered their conversation.

Ysabeau turned to see who it was that spoke. One of Andrién's comrades who traveled from home with her.

"Oh, do not be alarmed, the King has his eye on you and he will have you," the blond spoke, admiration evident.

"He what?" Ysabeau felt her skin pale, her head became lighter.

"Do not tell her such things, André." Philippe stood between her and his comrade as if his body could shield his words.

"I am only saying what is true, Philippe, though I know you are quite taken with the girl. I suppose it is safe to assume either way, she will give in."

"I most certainly will not!" Ysabeau hissed, sure to keep their conversation private from hot gossip. She scowled at André and picked her way from both. How presumptuous men were! The memory of the drunkard forcing himself upon the fille at the inn entered her brain and she faltered. Is that what they meant? Would they force themselves upon her? "Let them try." She smirked.

Her name was announced and vision blurred as well as her breaths thinned to a near halt. She panicked. Where was Philippe when she needed him? Before another thought could leave her head, he stood beside her.

"Go," he murmured, "the King expects you."

"But alone? I shall faint for sure." Sounds and color and air mixed into a great dizzy potion.

"I shall remain at your disposal. Now go."

She moved forward with the encouragement of his gentle nudge. Ysabeau glanced behind her, longing to remain fixed to his arm. The crowd parted for her, their eyes attentive with their various emotion regarding the King's attention of her.