“Killing?” said Rohan. “Like this?” He spun around with the spike and shoved it deep into the eye of the guard, who fell with a hideous wail. Rohan snatched the guard’s dagger as the second rushed forward, and he hurled it, catching the guard in the throat. The guard gurgled and grappled for the knife for only a second then he collapsed to the floor. As both writhed, whimpered, and died, Rohan cut Mike free. Then he drew a monk’s cloak from beneath his coat.

“Here,” said Rohan as Mike took the cloak and slipped it on. “A guard is expecting you by the laundry room. He’ll show you how to get out. Visit our friend in Paris. Tell him I want the best men he has at his disposal. You will take them to the usual place and wait my instructions. Hurry!”

A cozy fire popped and danced in the fireplace in Philippe’s outer chamber, warming the room but not the tension. Seated side by side, Philippe and Chevalier stared at the fire, watching the logs heave and crack.

“Do you remember the first night we spent together?” Chevalier asked.

“No.”

“And do you remember what I said to you in the morning?”

“No.”

“I said, ‘Henceforth every day I do not touch you, taste you, feel you, breathe you, will be a day of death and mourning.’”

Philippe shrugged slightly.

Chevalier leaned over in his chair, trying to meet Philippe’s gaze. “I meant it then and I mean it now. I’ve made a mistake. I offended the King and I offended you. But my love remains as strong as the day we met.” He held out his hand.

Slowly, his focus still on the fire, Philippe likewise reached out, and their fingers touched.

After a wait that dragged on mercilessly within the chilly, barren room, King Charles II of England entered, dressed in an ermine-trimmed robe. He was followed by Henry Bennet, the Earl of Arlington, Lord Henry Arundell, Sir William, and four blank-faced guards. Henriette curtseyed. In return, the men bowed, their lips smiling yet their eyes showing hints of condescension.

“My dear younger sister,” said King Charles, stretching out his arm. “The last time I saw you, you were scared there was a ghost under your bed. I hope you got rid of it.”

Henriette kissed Charles’ hand. “I come not as your sister but as an emissary of France.”

“Indeed,” said Charles. The advisors looked at one another and then at Henriette as if she were merely a child to be tolerated. “And more besides, I understand.”

“I…I represent His Majesty King Louis XIV,” she said. I cannot even speak calmly! I cannot do this! She glanced down and away from her brother and the moment she did, she knew she’d made a mistake.