Musketeer's Daughter:Unanswered Riddle

Chapter 45: Condemnation

Ysabeau darted behind a chair, kept it betwixt them. The rage on his face and ominous sword. She had lived this scene once before! The irrational fear of a bearded man—the King—giving chase, manifested. She dodged and stumbled. "It was you . . ." Had the King attempted to kill Marguerite, as well as Ysabeau, the night they fled?

The king shoved the chair into her with his foot, but she leaped over it and grabbed a silver candlestick. With it, she defended as he attacked.

"Has Andrién taught you?" He circled her, flashing his sword. Ysabeau kept her eyes fixed with his as she kept equal distance from him. "I consider myself a fair King. I go out of my way to see true justice prevail. But when one schemes to take my life for the sake of stupidity, I do not stand idly by!"

He swung with a forward leap, but Ysabeau scrambled away to the bed and retrieved the gold dagger. Their weapons collided as she kept his forward swing from completing its arc into her flesh.

He snarled as he glimpsed at it. "My lost dagger! At last, it returns to do its job as Catherine had once said."

"I have stolen it from ma mère—but she took it to protect her life from you, for whatever reason she has incensed you so! But I cannot imagine what a petit femme such as herself could possibly do to make you feel so threatened. To think I idolized you, thought you a worthy King because of what you have done for all Protestants everywhere."

With his free hand, he lashed out at her arm and it gave, the dagger flew across the room and he hit her across the face with his elbow. With his weight pinning her down and sword at her neck, he breathed. "What care I for someone who should have never been born? A blood that will never have a hope for my crown?"

Ysabeau stared in horror of him. "But I am not your enemy!" She groped her hair and pulled the pin. She raised it—it caught his eye and he pushed from her before she could jab him. He bellowed, and in came the rush of several Gardes de la Manche. Ysabeau exclaimed and snatched the covers to her chest, eyes fearful.

Philippe was the foremost person who had entered. He gripped his sword, wild eyes searching for an attacker within her room. "Your Majesty!" He bowed his head as did the others.

"Arrest that creature as she tried to kill me!" The King pointed to her.

All she could do was shake her head. Terror froze her voice and she could not help the trembling cold from showing.

"Ysabeau?" Philippe stepped forward, sheathing his sword. He nodded at the others and they stepped down, but remained at the ready.

"Merely self-defense," came her hoarse reply. Oh, how she hated the fear that cinched her throat. Her heart. How her thoughts refused to coalesce into something intelligible. How alone and vulnerable she felt. There would be no chance of living past this day. He would have her guillotined at once. She would never see Andrién or Marguerite. She would never wed Philippe nor bear his children. A sob choked her breath and she coughed, her eyes streaming.

"I know what you are thinking, Philippe. I will expose you and you will no longer be welcome in my presence as the Garde—I shall order your inheritance swiped clean if you dare to do what Andrién had done."

Ysabeau lost her breath as clouds fogged her hearing and sight. She wheezed, swallowed against the prickles in her throat, and whimpered. Philippe's jaw clenched so tight, she saw the ticking of his muscle, his eyes icing over.

He marched to her, leaned over the bed, and swept his cassock from his shoulders to hers. He then touched her so as to maneuver her from the bed. She screamed, twisted from his hold. "Do not touch me!"