Shadows of liberty (Book 6 of the Legacy of Love Series)

Chapter 2: Into the Shadow

The chill of dawn crept through the narrow streets as Elise, Henri, and Sabrina clung to the shadows, moving with cautious haste. Behind them, the echoes of a city waking to yet another day of revolution hung in the air, every creak of a door and shuffling footstep a reminder of the dangers they now faced.

Elise tightened her grip on Sabrina's hand as they turned down another narrow alley, Henri leading the way, his eyes constantly scanning for signs of trouble. Rowland and Margaret were somewhere close, Elise knew, but in the chaos of their exit from Madame Laurent's, they had become separated. It was unthinkable to leave them behind, yet they had no choice but to keep moving, clinging to the hope that they would find each other before it was too late.

Sabrina's small face was pale, her eyes wide with fear, though she said nothing. Elise could feel her sister's trembling fingers in her own, and she forced a reassuring smile, bending to whisper, "Stay close to me, Sabrina. We'll find Mother and Father soon."

Henri's face was tense, his gaze flitting from the street to Elise and Sabrina with a mixture of determination and concern. "We can't stop," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the distant sound of footsteps. "If we're seen, we'll have more than separation to worry about."

Elise nodded, feeling the weight of his words press down on her. Their family was now marked, hunted by forces that would show them no mercy. They were aristocrats—symbols of a world the revolution sought to erase. Every corner, every shadow held the possibility of betrayal.

The distant rumble of voices reached them, growing louder as they approached a busy marketplace. Elise felt her heart pound as they moved closer, knowing they had no choice but to pass through it. The narrow alleys were too exposed; in the crowd, they might blend in, slipping unnoticed through the bustling morning.

Henri pulled a tattered cloak from his bag, draping it over Sabrina to hide her finer clothes, then handed one to Elise. "Keep your heads down," he whispered, his voice urgent. "We're just another family in the crowd. No names, no eye contact. Move quickly and quietly."

Elise wrapped the cloak around herself, pulling the hood low over her face. She felt a pang of loss, knowing that even in the smallest of ways, they were forced to shed their identities, to become strangers to protect themselves. It was a strange, disorienting feeling, but there was no time to linger on it.

They stepped into the marketplace, the sounds of vendors and townspeople rising around them. The air was thick with the scent of fresh bread and morning fires, the energy of early trade masking the undercurrent of fear and suspicion that had become a part of life in Paris. Elise kept her gaze on the ground, her hand never loosening from Sabrina's, guiding her sister through the maze of bodies.

She could feel Henri's presence beside her, solid and steady, but her mind kept drifting to her parents. Were they safe? Had they managed to blend into the crowd, or had they been recognized, dragged into the chaos that seemed to consume every corner of the city?

The thought was unbearable, and she forced herself to focus on the moment, on the immediate task of reaching their next safe point. Madame Laurent had given Henri directions to a seamstress's shop that doubled as a hideout for those fleeing the Committee's reach. It was hidden within the winding streets beyond the marketplace, tucked away from prying eyes.

But as they moved, Elise became aware of a tension in the air, a subtle shift that sent a chill down her spine. She glanced up just enough to see a group of armed men pushing through the crowd, their red and blue sashes marking them as members of the revolutionary patrol. Her pulse quickened as she ducked her head, hoping to pass by unnoticed.

Then she saw him—a figure at the head of the patrol, his presence unmistakable even in the throng of bodies. Jean-Luc Moreau. His intense gaze swept over the crowd, and Elise felt a surge of fear, followed closely by a strange, defiant anger. Here was the man who hunted people like her family, who saw their name as a mark of shame rather than heritage. She wondered, fleetingly, what he might think if he knew her, if he understood the complexities that lay behind her family's noble title.