The King, Bontemps, Colbert, Masson, and Claudine flanked the birthing bed. The Queen’s ladies-in-waiting, courtiers, several guards, and the Queen’s pet Nabo, stood behind them, filling the room with tangible expectation. Marie-Therese’s eyes were red-rimmed and exhausted. “Too many people,” she managed. “Too many.”

Then she bore down again, wailed, and pushed. Louis smiled encouragingly. My son. My son is here.

“Here,” said Masson. “The child comes.” He peered into the folds of the blanket where, at last, a baby’s wet head was visible between her legs. The Queen cried out and pushed again. The child was expelled, squawking with life.

Masson stood straight. He blinked.

Claudine, who had been watching closely, stared with terrified eyes.

Masson turned from the bed. “Everyone must leave,” he said.

Louis frowned.

“At once!” said Masson.

Louis jerked his head and everyone cleared the room, leaving only the King, Bontemps, Masson, and Claudine.

“What is the meaning of this?” Louis demanded.

Masson looked at the Queen and baby still hidden by blanket. He swallowed hard. “I…Sire, I –”

“Speak! Where is your tongue?”

Claudine lifted the blanket to shield the sight of the child from the Queen, who lay panting on her pillows. Masson gently picked up the baby. It was a little girl, wailing with healthy lungs.

And the child was black.

2 Late Spring – Early Summer, 1667

2

LATE SPRING – EARLY SUMMER, 1667

Impossible. This cannot be true! Louis’ mind raced, determined that this thing, this child, was a hoax. A nightmare! A horrific trick!

Yet it was quite real. The child the Queen had just delivered was not only female, but had skin as dark as an African.

Bontemps swept in and gathered the child from Masson’s arms as Marie-Therese pushed herself up to see her baby. She gasped, whimpered, and dropped back to the pillows.

Bontemps folded the towel over the child and hastened it from the birthing chamber, through the outer room, and into the corridor. A young chambermaid nearly collided with the valet, and in that moment a flap of the blanket fell away and the maid saw the child clearly. She shuddered and looked away, but it was too late. Her eyes had witnessed what no one was supposed to witness. She quickly retreated down another corridor with her face downcast.

As Bontemps spirited the baby away, seeking a wet nurse he was certain would be trustworthy, Masson stood in the Queen’s bedchamber, trembling and glancing from Her Majesty to the floor to the King. Then he offered a stumbling explanation as to the child’s condition.

“Sire, I…I believe that soon after the Queen became pregnant, her pet Nabo jumped out and…and he gave the queen a stare that corrupted her royal womb with darkness.”