Musketeer's Daughter:Unanswered Riddle

Chapter 21: Fragile

"Pardon me," she said, her attempt at sliding through them failing. She turned over her shoulder, Philippe marching after her, determination set upon his jaw. The King, bemused.

After many no's at dancing requests, and breaking through the already open doors that led to the gardens, Ysabeau stumbled onto the terrace. Glad for her sure-footedness despite the cumbersome contraption, she managed to maintain her equilibrium. Many people who dotted the grounds, turned, but soon, forgot her.

"Oh, Andrién." She walked toward the lacy shrubs and stared emptily at the moon that danced in the pond within. "What am I to do? Again, secrets haunt me all the way from home and at the heart no less." She thought of the King and his intense stare. Had he known she lived and was not dead as he had hoped? A fierce shiver roared through her body.

"Ysabeau?"

She gasped, but did not turn.

"Why did you flee?" Philippe gripped her shoulders and moved her to him.

Were the men of the court always so physical in their contact? She never touched Mathieu and she received the most touches ever in a single night than her entire life bundled!

"I wanted to admire the parterres." She indicated the masterful shrubs in their twisting designs.

He chuckled. "I fear not, Ysabeau. It appeared as if you had seen death itself upon your doorstep. What was it I had said?"

Tricks! She turned, forcing all bravery to read his eyes. They were wide, open, plain. No hidden agendas. No deception. Just unease.

"I do not do well in crowds for long, Philippe. I apologize." She curtsied, wanting to retire for the night.

"No, wait." His hand stopped her elbow and she gazed at it. "Was it something I said?" He wet his lips and pulled her to a nearby bench. They sat upon it. "I have no intention of frightening you and my question was mere rhetoric, though I did recognize some familiarity from the brat's fighting style that belongs to those of your uncle, I thought you might know if he has taken under him an apprentice? Who to know but someone who resides within his manor?"

The vice about her heart eased and she sighed.

"Though you are no musketeer, I can see Andrién's surefootedness in your every move as well. That is all, please do not feel I am insinuating any dark secrecy."

Dark secrecy. She repeated the phrase, twisting it into a different light in hopes to discover its tale. Something stirred and she knew it deserved further study. Then, it pounced upon her and she reeled with realization. If he suspected she knew of Andrién's secrecy in training an apprentice—her—then Philippe might know of any that occur within the palace.

Ysabeau delved into his verdant gaze and held them. "Philippe, Andrién has taken no man beneath his wing to train other than his son, but that you knew." She played with the lace upon her cuff, wondering how she could discover any of Andrién's riddles without revealing her purpose.