The Painter's Apprentice

Chapter 4

I'm still on edge when Destan arrives at my studio just after my breakfast. He opens the door hesitantly like he isn't sure what he'll find.

"Good morning, Florette," he says with a tug on the sleeve of his uniform.

"Good morning." My greeting comes out high and clipped. Does he still think I'm sick? He seems more reserved than last night — like there's less sparkle in his eyes. My face heats when I remember how I had spied on him and Lavernia. I don't know what to make of either of them anymore. They were both nothing but kind, but there's clearly something hidden between them. My stomach clenches when I remind myself to keep my guard up. And then there's Lord Gardet, who makes my skin crawl. Destan hadn't looked comfortable around his father, which makes me want to ask about their relationship since Destan doesn't use the surname Gardet. I think better of it. The unexplainable fear I felt around Lord Gardet still lingers, an unsettling tremble lodged deep in my bones. I listen to my gut and don't risk my tongue getting me in trouble with a dangerous man.

"Are you in better health this morning?" Destan asks. His tone is even and measured, but I catch the flicker of another emotion on his face.

"I am well, thank you." I flash him what I hope is an encouraging smile. "I believe it was my dinner last night that made me ill. The food here is quite rich and I believe I am not used to such delicacies yet."

"That is not uncommon," he replies and a smile cracks on his lips. He almost looks relieved.

He's believed my lie.

"I'm afraid it will be painfully obvious to everyone that I'm a stranger to the extravagance of court life." I gesture for Destan to take his place at the column, and he obliges. He strikes the same pose and to my surprise, he hits each mark with ease.

"It feels like customs change almost daily at Versailles, but some things never do," he says. "I may have been gone a few years, but I first came to court when I was a child of eight. I can answer more of your questions if you have them."

Eight? He's spent most of his life here.

"Thank you." I meet Destan's gaze so he knows how much it means to me but I know so little of Versailles that I don't know where to start. Something inside me begs to ask Destan things about himself so I can form a more solid opinion of him, but every question that comes to mind seems too familiar when we are, in reality, still strangers.

Instead, I go back to the one thing I know: painting. After making sure I like the things I blocked in yesterday, I begin work on Destan's face. Morel never spoke to me when he worked, so I'm not bothered by silence, but there's no one to scold me now for letting my lips run away. I finally let my curiosity get the best of me and ask, "Why did you come to Versailles so young?"

Destan's face softens. An impulse in me wants to capture some of that softness in my painting, but it doesn't quite fit the military portrait beneath my brush. "My mother took a position as one of the queen mother Marie Antoinette's ladies maids. She brought me with her to keep me close — I suppose that was my father's wish as well. "

"Lord Gardet."

Something about the way I say his name makes Destan chuckle. "Yes. My father and I..."

"Are very different," I blurt out.

"Her Royal Majesty, Marie Antoinette says I only take after my mother." This brings a wide, genuine smile to Destan's lips.

"I'd like to meet your mother," I say.

A shadow passes over Destan's brow. "She died during the Revolution of 1789."