VIOLET EYES | LES MISÉRABLES

chapter eleven

The piece of card sat in Javert's study, glistening from its position on the mahogany desk. It entranced Sonnet, and just so happened to be the shining beacon of hope she was longing for.

Dear Inspector Javert and Sonnet Javert,

You are cordially invited to a ball at the Palais de L'Or on Samedi Vingt-Trois Juillet, celebrating the return of the missing Princess Éléonore.

"Are you going to be accompanying me?" Javert's booming voice interrupted Sonnet's train of thought, and she glanced up at her father with a startled expression. He stood in the doorway, his eyes immediately finding the girl sat in his chair. Sonnet's widened features smoothed into an easy smile, and she nodded her head.

"My name is written on the invitation, Papa," Sonnet teased, holding up the embellished card she was carefully examining. Javert chuckled before rolling his eyes, stepping forward into the room. Sonnet noticed his uniform, and sighed loudly.

"Must you work today? We've had such a lovely few days." For the first time since they had moved to Paris, Javert was granted three days leave. The duo spent the time strolling through Paris and sitting in cathedrals, enjoying their family of two and the bond they shared. Sonnet was overjoyed to have her father become a father again, if only for a few moments in time. It was more important than her revolutionary and fiancée status, the latter happily abandoned.

"We mustn't wish for more leave, Sonnet. It's greedy, and you'll only get sick of it." Javert remarked, sounding only partially genuine.

"I feel as though I will be a married woman by the time you are granted your next holiday." Sonnet commented miserably. Javert huffed, pressing a kiss to Sonnet's temple before walking over to the door frame.

"Let's hope not," Javert nodded, before bidding her farewell. "I'll be home by supper, stay out of trouble."

The topic of Sonnet's engagement had hesitantly been brought up over the course of the three days, and it appeared that both sides were dreading the occasion. Although it remained unspoken, they were silently pleased to notice each other's distaste.

Javert's dislike could be whittled down to his overprotective nature towards his daughter. Sonnet was simply in love with a poet.

The thought of Jehan pushed Sonnet to her feet, although she wavered at the idea of facing him. She had confessed her love and disappeared for three days, which didn't create the best impression.

But romance pushed itself away, making room for the revolutionary spirit to bound through. Sonnet wasn't getting dressed and lacing up her boots to see a boy. She was going to meet her friends and discuss ways she can create a free future for the people of France.

Sonnet bounded out of the house, her fingers knotted in front of her. A confident grin graced her cheeks, growing whenever she glanced downwards at the invitation she rested against her stomach.

The route to the Musain was incredibly familiar to Sonnet, but never unpleasant. Her eyes would glance up at the retreating figure of Notre Dame before she slipped into alleyways and turned corners, feeling at home amongst the dull brick and the iron-woven gates.

It was a Thursday, meaning that the girls would be working at the local dressmaker. The boys would hopefully be lingering around the café, depending on whether they were at the university or their own jobs. If it was empty, Sonnet would be reminded of her own privilege and retreat to the rose gardens.