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Back Joan
Chapters (43)
  1. Cover
  2. Epigraph
  3. CAST OF CHARACTERS
  4. Map
  5. Part One
  6. I
  7. II
  8. III
  9. IV
  10. V
  11. VI
  12. VII
  13. Part Two
  14. I
  15. II
  16. III
  17. IV
  18. V
  19. VI
  20. VII
  21. VIII
  22. IX
  23. X
  24. Part Three
  25. I
  26. II
  27. III
  28. IV
  29. V
  30. Part Four
  31. I
  32. II
  33. III
  34. IV
  35. V
  36. VI
  37. EPILOGUE
  38. afterword
  39. Dedication
  40. acknowledgments
  41. By Katherine J. Chen
  42. about the author
  43. What’s next onyour reading list?

“I see now I was wrong to take offense the last time we spoke. For that and my hesitation I rebuke myself. But I did not think I would see you again.” It is as polite a way as possible to say, I thought you were a fake. I thought you would be dead.

She bows her head. “I am glad to see Your Majesty.”

He nods. “You see how…” Smiling, he shows her the green-and-red-striped hat with tassels. “I prepared this outfit especially for your arrival. It is my first time wearing it. I thought it appropriate as a celebration of our victory.”

Joan glances over her shoulder. She sees no one is actually praying. With narrowed eyes, La Trémoille is watching her, and le Maçon, two courtiers away, is watching him.

“Do you like it?” the Dauphin asks.

She reddens. She wants to say, I like a suit of armor better. Instead she says, without thinking, “It is not clothes that make a king.”

The Dauphin frowns: Try again.

She improvises: “I only meant…Your Majesty could wear a beggar’s cloak and no one would spare you a single coin. They would see at a glance that you were a prince of royal blood born to wear a crown.” Better?

He nods. Better. His hand floats back to hers.

His eyes flit to the altar as if it were an afterthought for prayer. “I have made mistakes. There are nights when I have gone to sleep and felt cursed by the hand of God. He alone knows how I have been tested. I have asked in my prayers, ‘Why must I endure so much? When will my heart be light again?’ and received no answer.”

He strokes the tassels of his hat. Despite the celebratory mood, he wants a moment for self-pity. “You do not know what it is like for the world to hate you. Not only the English. Not only my cousin Burgundy, who wants to see my head on a pike. My own people despise me. They see how I am reduced and laugh behind my back. How can a king rule when his sovereignty extends only as far as the place he has run to for sanctuary? This is why they call me King of Bourges. But I would tell them I have plans, and they are not only plans to take back my throne and my kingdom. I should like to build…” His voice falters. He sighs.