The Painter's Apprentice

Chapter 11

A ballerina soars through the air and crashes bodily into her partner in a carefully choreographed embrace. The music of the orchestra soars. The Water-Theatre in the gardens of Versailles is like something out of a fairytale. The grove of trees provides a backdrop and jets of water dance behind the pair along long allées that cut through the woods. I watch from the back of the crowded amphitheater with Lavernia at my side.

The king and his queen watch from their thrones at the front of the audience. Couriers titter quietly as if this is any social gathering, but I can't take my eyes off the dancers. They break apart only to come back to each other again and again as if there's a string between them that can never be severed. Something in me hungers as I watch the tenderness of the silent communication between their bodies. A hand on her waist. Her elbow. Her face.

I know they are playing at romance, but there's a small part of me that wishes someone wanted to look at me the way Romeo looks at his Juliet. The want brings a sickening hollow feeling to my gut.

Lavernia hands me her handkerchief before I even start to cry.
"Thank you," I whisper as tears well in my eyes.

"Beautiful, is it not?" She doesn't take her eyes off the stage.

"Beautiful," I confirm.

Lavernia has a glisten in her own eyes but she refuses the handkerchief when I try to return it to her.

I hazard a glance at the crowd and spot the movement of a familiar figure. Destan, dressed in the uniform of a Garde du Corps de Roi, moves our way with intense purpose. He wears a dark blue coat with bright red facings. His straight, white trousers meet a pair of polished black boots below his knees. I've waited days for him to find me after my conversation with Lafayette and my pulse races accordingly. He stops in front of Lavernia and tips his head to her as if our meeting is nothing but ordinary.

"General," Lavernia says almost tauntingly. Knowingly. Perhaps she knew he would find us here today.

Destan turns to address me. "Mademoiselle Florette, may I have a word with you? In private." His words are clipped and I can tell he isn't pleased with me.

"I can step away for a moment," Lavernia offers.

"No, please," I say. "Do not concern yourself. I will speak with General Bordelon in private if he wishes."

Lavernia fixes me with an arched brow and a reassuring squeeze to my arm before she returns her attention to the dancers.

I follow Destan's lead through the gardens. Once we have moved away from all the other courtiers who meander through the grove, he stops behind a gnarled cypress with a trunk thick enough to hide the both of us. "Florette, what do you think you are doing?"

I meet his blue eyes and clench my fists to hold my resolve. "I'm going to help your cause."

There is anger in Destan's face, but something closer to loathing flashes across it. "Please Florette, you have no idea what you're trying to get yourself into—"

"Lafayette told me what you're planning to do. He also said he needs my help."

Destan rounds on me and fists his hands at his sides. His eyes are marked with anger. "And he had no right to—"

"Please." I smooth my brows in hopes of softening the contempt from my face. "You don't need to let me in on everything, but can't you give me something to do? I am a nobody with nothing to lose. If you can use me, use me."

Emotions flicker across Destan's face, but despite my desperate plea, he seems resolved. "Look. You do not understand—"

This does nothing but further fuel my rage. "You are right. I do not understand. Because if there was anything else I could do to see power taken from these Fae and given to the people, I wouldn't hesitate; France is on the brink of destruction. I want a future that rebellion might afford us, and I am willing to risk my life to get it."