Sixteen-year-old Evienne de Roussel has dreamed of one thing since she was a little girl. More than anything, she wants to be a part of the glittering court of Versailles, flirt, dance, and wear beautiful clothing like her idol, Madame Pompadour.
Ti...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life is made up of light and shadow."--- Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
When Evienne's emerald green eyes fight to push themselves open, it is as if she is emerging from a dream or perhaps a cocoon. There were no palaces, no crowds, no executioners, no brides with false smiles or assassins waiting in the dark. Her body floods with relief, letting out a shudder. This time, she doesn't have the strength to jolt up in fright, though her face makes the shape of a scream.
"Mama. Another nightmare." Evienne's eyes see Corinne, and she recognises the tired and overwhelmed face of her mother before making any sense of where she was. The furniture she was on was velvety, sumptuous.
There is a man she does not know, closer to her mother's age than her own. The grey around the temples is real, not accentuated with powder, and he has no affectations. He must be a soldier, Evienne decides.
"A nightmare, yes, but I am sorry this one was real. Do not worry. You are far from the only woman to faint at this sort of occasion. It is shocking to the sensibilities. We call you the fairer sex for a reason."
The man flashes Evienne a winning smile, indicating he finds himself charming and humorous. She instantly dislikes him. "Faint? I've never fainted in my life. Who are you and where am I?" An edge of hostility creeps into Evienne's voice, and it has no intention of leaving. "Mama? What is this about?"
Corinne's hand smooths her daughter's brow. "There, there. Calm yourself. Your nerves are unsettled. You did truly faint, Evienne. I told you girls not to watch..." Corinne's voice trails off. "It is a natural reaction for many. Young ladies are sprawled out all over the Chateau with fans and smelling salts. Here, Evie. Drink this."
Corinne hands over the glass and Evienne notices her mother's face is tired and drawn, but her hair perfectly coiffed and smelling of an alluring fragrance. "It's just cognac. It shocks the senses and makes you feel more relaxed if you've never tried it before." Corinne holds her glass, sipping it and tossing smiles to the gentleman. "Evie, this is Monsieur Bochart. He was a friend of your father's for many years."
