The King's Eye

Chapter 27

"Marat?" Jacques flipped the pamphlet over in his hands. "The sewer rat?"

I could not find my voice to speak, letting my eyes wander out the carriage window as we returned to Versailles. My arm brushing against Jacques's made something in my heart ease. Hours ago he had entered my room to let Elodie sleep and told me he knew what I was feeling. That he knew the hurt that anchored my soul to the depths of my mind and how I struggled to stay over the waves that filled my lungs as I gasped for air.

After two weeks of fighting Elodie every second, I let Jacques give me back the humanity that he often took from others. Letting his hands gently glide through my hair, I sat between his legs in the bed, his presence a steady reminder of everything I had to lose. When Elodie had finally returned she visibly sagged with relief.

"He lived in the sewers." Elodie rolled her eyes. "And now writes from a claw tub."

"The face of a revolution," Jacques said through a laugh, his eyes meeting mine for a moment before I turned back to the carriage window. "Although, he isn't very..." He tilted his head closer to me as he said, "beau?"

Elodie let out a noise of annoyance. "That doesn't really matter when he is titling his work—-"

"A Plot Uncovered to Lull the People to Sleep." My voice sounded foreign to my ears as I forced the words out. My throat fluttering with confusion as I tried to say more, but after two weeks of silence it faltered hoarsely. "He attacks the reforms."

"He is radical," Jacques said, eyes longing at my mouth as if he waited for more words to be said. "More so than Desmoulins."

Elodie tried to hide her expression as she spoke, still shocked that I had said anything. "Marat hasn't beheaded anyone."

"Not literally," Jacques countered. "But his words will do just as much damage." His hand squeezed mine, before pulling away.

Outside the window the trees began to line up in perfect rows, gardeners already out plucking loose leaves and trimming branches. The dirt that dusted their pure white capes proved their hard work to the appearance of the crown.

Through the morning dew Versailles glistened like a jewel, its white and gold glowing as if the heavens themselves had opened to the world. His majesty although benevolent, was to be feared just the same as the facade of the palace. I sunk lower into my seat at the thought of facing the king. Our last interaction had been too quiet on my part, and Elodie had already briefed me on what was expected.

The words were too hard to say. To admit.

All my mind could muster was I was a fraud and that it was me who should have been dead. Simone sacrificed herself for someone she barely knew, I did not know if I would ever be capable of that. If I could be so valiant. Would I have let her die if the roles were reversed? I swallowed painfully, making Jacques shift his gaze to me.

His eyes burned into me, blazing with a worry I had never seen.

Elodie pushed the curtain on her window aside, her eyes narrowing in on the palace. "We're here." She dusted away imaginary dirt from her skirts. "We will drop you off at the front as expected and enter via the servants entrance."

Jacques cleared his throat, his throat visibly bobbing. "We must maintain our image," he said, again looking at my lips. Waiting for me to say anything. I could only manage the dipping of my chin into a nod. As the carriage came to a stop against the gravely path, he leaned over and brushed a kiss against my temple. "Just go with it, duchess." He forced a smile as he pulled away and the door swung open.

A hand appeared to assist me, leading me out into the early morning sun. Already it's rays blinded painfully, not even at full strength. The hand my fingers rested in lowered slowly.

"You look well, your grace," Francis's voice grated against my ears.

Finally looking at him, I yanked my hand away from his grasp. "What are you—"

"I am your husband. People would talk if I was not here to welcome my wife home."

"This is not our home. The Paris House..." Francis gave me a mischievous smile as he grabbed my arm and looped it through his. "His majesty didn't summon us here, did he?"

"You're catching on." His voice lowered. "Finally dear Sophie, you are catching on."

⚹⚹⚹⚹

Francis locked me in our chambers, leaving me to pace in front of the open windows. As the day dragged on in silence I watched the shadows shift across the floor, counting the minutes that passed as if the candelabras were sundials. I didn't know how he tricked us so easily into coming here, but he had succeeded. Somehow he had gotten his way.

I could only hope this was not his way of retaliating against me. For hours I had waited for the worst, leaving my stomach in knots. When keys finally jingled on the other side of the door, I found myself bracing against the desk.

Creaking open inch by inch, Elodie peeked around the door with panic in her eyes. "Hurry," she said, her voice telling me everything I needed to know.

We walked hand in hand down the hall, my heart thundering in my ears. "Where is Jacques?"

"Waiting for us."

"Francis he—"

"We know," she said, cutting me off. "That is why we are leaving." Her words were short, but she added, "Now." She stopped at a tattered tapestry before lifting it from a corner to reveal a doorway.