Fabien studied her, his face unreadable in the night. “Follow me,” he said at last.

They walked in silence for several minutes, away from the celebration and into the obscurity of a dark garden maze, and then Fabien said, “I need to know more about you.”

Beatrice cocked her head. She would not let the conversation go as she feared he wanted it to. “Are you someone who enjoys music?”

“Where were you born?” asked Fabien.

“Do you enjoy theatre, perhaps?”

“Where would you like to die?”

“How do you spend your time away from your work?”

Beatrice stopped. Fabien did, as well, and gazed at her with a mixture of longing and hesitation. “I would like to ask you all of these things,” he said, “but my problem is I cannot stop looking at you.”

Beatrice smiled, her lips pouting ever so slightly. “Well, that is most kind of you to say.”

“I find you distracting. For when I look upon you –”

“All thoughts stop.”

Fabien stepped closer. Beatrice felt his desire enveloping her, almost burning her. “Then we are in agreement,” he whispered.

“I suppose we are.”

His hand touched hers, briefly, a spark ready to ignite a blaze. She moaned in expectation. Then he threw his arm around her waist, pulled her into himself, and kissed her. She kissed him back and then drew him down with her to the grassy pathway. Where their fireworks exploded.

The party was over. The Montespan entered her apartment, shut the door, and moved to the hearth, where she leaned on the mantle and wept openly. I am strong! I must be strong! Nothing matters but cunning and strength and beauty! Yet now, alone, she felt as vulnerable as a newborn foal.

There was movement behind her. She turned to see the King standing by her bed. Quickly she blinked away the tears and lifted her chin.

“I’m grateful to you, Madame,” said Louis. “You understand more than all of them.”

“Understand what, Sire?”

“In order to rule, the first thing you must learn is sacrifice.”

The Montespan watched, waited, as the King came to her, and ran his hands along her face, her shoulders. Yes, she thought. At last!

He kissed her cheeks, tasted her lips, and pulled her gown off her shoulders, releasing her breasts to the cool of the room. She closed her eyes and cupped them, lifting them so he could touch and suck the nipples. He did so fervently, drawing on them so hard that a most delicious pain coursed through her body. Then he lifted her, carried her to her bed, and she gave herself to him completely.