Musketeer's Daughter:Unanswered Riddle

Epilogue

Ysabeau glided her fingertip along the stone warmed by the sun. Though sorrow captured her heart, she could only smile through her veil of tears. "So much has transpired since you have left, mon frère." She drew in a quivering breath, casting her gaze upon the ring Philippe had bestowed upon her. "I know not whether you are aware of Papa and ma mère's desire to wed, but fate has brought us all together." She thought of Philippe being a prince and covered her lips with a little giggle. "Life has its surprises, mon frère, though you leaving was not one I desired."

She lifted her eyes to the blue heavens and released a staggering breath.

"There is no need to worry over me any longer as you once had—he will take good care of me." The sound of a horse snorting snared her attention. She turned over her shoulder and found Philippe standing beside his destrier next to their coach. His handsome face pulled into a smile. "He is a good man, I am blessed to have come across him." The thought of him as a garçon quietly leading her little family through the deep of the night from the mad Queen at the risk of his very life flashed through her mind. "Or he across me." A sad smile curved her lips. "How I love you, Mathieu."

Again, she gazed upon Philippe. He smiled again and moved for her.

"With him, I will never find myself wanting again." She took a step back to meet her fiancé.

Philippe pulled her to him, his finger beneath her chin, his thumb drying her tear. "Life sometimes holds much sorrow in which we feel helpless against." He lowered his face until his lips brushed hers. He smiled. "Life also holds much joy." Ysabeau glanced down at his hand when he lifted it. "Open it."

She looked at him in askance and he winked at her. With a smile, she gently nudged his fingers open and there, within his palm, nestled a regal butterfly of the deepest blue mixed with shimmering violet.

Ysabeau gasped at its astounding beauty. "She's belle, Philippe."

"Oui," he lowered his head, "she's not the only one who is."

A balmy breeze wafted in eddies about them, bringing with it the parfum of the many flowers that flourished within the cemetery. The butterfly's wings caught the breeze. At first, it clung to his hand, its wings closing and opening in slow movements. Then, it fluttered and allowed the air to carry it high above—Ysabeau laughed—and at the last possible moment, flew head on to the current until it vanished.

"Like this butterfly, so are you, mon amour." He framed her face, coaxing her to meet his hooded gaze. "Your hunger for life shines and though the winds may beat against you, it will never dictate who you are." Her heart kicked at his passion and she could not help but curl her fingers behind his neck and lower him to her lips. "That is why I love you so."

She smiled, their foreheads touched, and she glided the tip of her nose over his. "Sword and all?"

"Sword and all."