Musketeer's Daughter:Unanswered Riddle

Chapter 44: Indictment

"Come, let us go to the center so the King will not find you so easily." He hooked his arm through hers and led her through the concourses of people. They counted down for the ripe hour, laughter upon their lips.

Ysabeau trembled and she steadied her breath and heart. "What do you mean 'by Andrién has no daughter'?" She fisted her hands and stepped into his line of sight. "Philippe, are you jesting with me?"

He shook his head, his lips still clamped, and did not meet her gaze. "The King has found us."

There was a roaring sound in her head, and she needed to sit. "Philippe." She covered her ears. "Tell me you are jesting. You swore there were no secrets between us."

"The time is nigh, let us remove our masks." Everyone screamed, their masks falling from their faces. Laughter and excited conversation ensued.

"No, I shall not—tell me now!"

He finally met her gaze, his mask in his fingers. "Ysabeau, that is one in which Andrién must divulge—you need to hear it from him, not myself." His expression was so tender, her heart wept. "Mon amour, it is best hearing it from him—believe me when I say I have warned and pleaded and nagged him these many years."

"No." Tears washed everything to a singular color. "This cannot be."

"Your mask, mademoiselle." The King was beside her, his smile forced as it did not reach his eyes.

She yelped, and jumped into Philippe. His big hands steadied her and she shook as she pulled the ribbon from beneath her chin. The feathers swayed, and she parted her lips as the mask dropped from her eyes.

The King leaned forward, his lips pursing. "You are not her,"—he tilted his head, eyes narrowing as they moved over her face in painstaking slowness—"though there may be a resemblance—."

"Ah, Your Majesty, if I may. I have asked Dame Ysabeau for her hand and am hoping for Your Majesty's blessing for announcing before the fireworks display?"

The King straightened, his face one of blanched shock. "You? You have asked this dame for her hand? What of—."

Philippe grinned and gave a swift bow. "It is my right as I have fallen for her and she has consented." He stilled, his eyes holding the King's and they spoke volumes in silence. It was as if they carried a full swordfight in their thoughts because, when the King broke contact, Philippe smiled in brilliant triumph.

Ysabeau stared with horrified fascination. There were far too many things weighing upon her that she had quite forgotten why she was angry with Philippe, for the King's presence scattered her wits.

Before she knew it, every person upon the courtyard silenced and she gazed upon the dais where the King stood. She blinked. When had he moved from her side, Philippe with him? Her beau stood beside His Majesty, his hat removed and his cassock tossed in the sweeping breeze. Why had she agreed? What was it that she saw in him to say yes? Why did she love him? What was love? What was love? Who was she? Where did she come from? Was Marguerite not her mère as well? Why did the King behave so strangely, even after he knew it was her and he had met her before? She was old news, no?

Everyone turned to Ysabeau, applauding and congratulating her. Philippe was suddenly beside her, sweeping her away to a dark corner as the fireworks shook the walls and surrounding panes.

His lips moved, but she did not hear him. She lifted her eyes and felt someone watching. The King. He stared openly, his expression hidden yet screaming something she could not decipher. Philippe placed his finger under her chin and raised her mouth to his. But she could not remove her gaze from the King's whose expression was not altered by Philippe's open show of affection, though short lived.