Musketeer's Daughter:Unanswered Riddle

Chapter 41: Happiness

After a long and drunken sleep and a delectable bath, Ysabeau chose a simple gown to wear for the picnic Philippe had invited her to upon the floating garden. A smirk crossed her lips. As long as you do not drink café, she had joked. He thought it a brilliant rejoinder, fodder for courtier gossip.

There would be a boule de mascarade later this eve at la Cour des Fontaines. The unmasking would take place just before the fireworks over the King's mirroring carp pond. How grand it would be! How dangerous. She paused, thinking of the man in black. How would she know to find him? As a lady, she would never know. But as the musketeer . . . She would be glad to use herself as a decoy to lure him out.

How would she present such a scheme to Philippe when he longed to dance with her there?

Side by side, Ysabeau and Philippe rode to the hilltops overlooking the château. The late morning sun shined hotly upon her neck and how grateful she was for her headdress.

"Since we are gladly far from prying ears and eyes; did you know it was foolish of you to return to the nest from whence the viper has sprung?" He regarded her over the rim of his chalice.

"Since when have I ever been afraid?" She lifted her chin with a scowl. "He killed my frère. He stalked you and me. He—."

"Hush." He leaned over and pressed his fingers to her lips. "Surely he is aware of your presence here."

"If he will strike, it will be tonight when everyone is in character and that is why I must strike first."

"You must not."

A hot surge of indignation and fury wrung through her and she rose. "Do not presume to tell me what to do, Philippe. It is obvious he was sent to kill me and ma mère as depicted in the missive and since we have broken the confidentiality, we are now in danger. I have no reason as to why, but we are a threat to the King or Queen and neither shall rest until we are dead."

He lowered his head, the wide brim shadowing his eyes. "It is my duty at the Garde de la Manche to protect my King, I cannot stop you so long as no harm comes to His Majesty." An involuntary smirk slid over her lips and she breathed out quickly with mirth. "However, mademoiselle," his grip tightened about the chalice, and he stared at her through the edge of the brim, "I must say this: If you should cause any harm to His Majesty the King, I will do what I can to protect him—understood?"

"I am done." Ysabeau tossed her napkin to the blanket and lifted her skirts. Though the sun slapped her body with fire, it steeped along her neck and flowered to her face. How dare he threaten her like that! She would never hurt the King. Never. Unless . . . "Dupré!" But she did not wait for the destrier to meet her. Rather, she lifted her hems and ran for him.

"Ysabeau, wait!"

And wait she did not. How foolish she was to confide in him. How foolish she thought him to be a friend. How foolish of her to be so foolish. She was no match for a man in breeches and boots in her monstrosity and he caught her up easy.

"Ysabeau, please do not take my oath as insult. I am a man of honor. My King comes first, and next, the woman I love."

"I pity the woman." She glared down her arm where his hand clutched her. "Release me, Philippe."

"Please, please, this is all going wrong. I need to, I want to. There is something rather urgent I must ask you, but not like this. Please join me?" He directed his gaze to the innocent blanket's edges fluttering in the warm breeze, the assortment of delectable foods spread over.

She closed her eyes, inhaled a quivering breath. Mathieu's smiling face floated into view and she opened her eyes. "Very well." Moving from his grip, she marched to their spot and lowered to the blanket. With hands folded upon her lap, she stared off into the distance. The blaring of horses faint in the lonely wind.