Louis turned to see Henriette entering the room in a white gown and Pierrot mask. She moved slowly yet directly to the King. He took her hand and found it clammy.

“Ah,” said Louis. “The princess we’ve been waiting for. You will dance with me?”

Philippe feigned a pout. “Why not with me?”

“She shall dance with us both,” said Louis.

A minuet began. Louis led Henriette onto the floor and Philippe followed. The masked nobles moved into position and the dance began.

She was swept along with Louis guiding her, surrounded by the other couples pacing graceful patterns on the floor. It was all she could do to keep her feet moving, to keep from stumbling. Her legs were weak and the music was too loud.

“None of this would have been possible without you,” said the King.

“I’m honored you think so,” Henriette managed.

The men traded partners, with Louis stepping away and Philippe sweeping in to take his place. “His Majesty is in a flattering mood this evening,” her husband said.

Henriette licked her lips. “Why do you say that?”

“Because I know him. And he knows you.”

Another change of partners and Louis was back again. He turned Henriette around, the motion making her head spin. She struggled to stay focused.

“It strengthens me to know I have you at my side,” said the King.

Henriette fought a rising nausea as sweat beaded on her forehead. “You…you have many advisors better qualified than I.”

“But you are so much more than an advisor.”

Partners changed again, a discomfiting swirl of fabrics and candlelight, masks blending into a frightening collage of fangs and hollowed eyes. Philippe took Henriette’s hand and turned her about. His smile was twisted and his voice distorted.

“He no longer loves you. Yet you dream of hearing his footsteps on the floor and the midnight knock at the door.” Henriette could not reply.

Then Louis was spinning her. “You were and are my first love. Whoever I’m with, a part of me will always be with you.”

Then Philippe. “He will promise and beckon and you will continue to hope.”

And Louis. “You would have made a wonderful queen.”

And Philippe. “But you are just a puppet now.”

Back and forth between the two, the music becoming more discordant, the room swaying violently, Louis and Philippe’s words bleeding together. Henriette rocked with the room, feeling it rising up around her like a sea determined to drown her. She tried to speak, to cry out, but there was no voice in her throat, and she crashed to the floor.

10

10

Rohan’s chamber was modest in size yet furnished with the best Louis had to offer. A bed with the best feather mattress, an elegantly designed writing desk, table, cushioned chairs, a fireplace always stocked with wood. Clocks and statuary on shelves, portraits of royals on the walls.