As Louvois stared and the royal brothers clasped hands, a footman rushed in.

“Sire! Quickly! The Queen!”

Followed by several guards, Louis rushed to Marie-Therese’s apartment to find the Queen writhing on her bed, sweating heavily into the sheets. The room smelled of blood and agony.

Masson had ordered his daughter to prepare a poultice, but Claudine had refused. She knew the Queen’s illness was because of the birth and knew only one thing that could save her life. She opened her journal to the drawing she’d made of a uterus, and placed it on the bed. Then, shoving her father aside, parted the Queen’s legs and inserted her arm deep into Her Majesty’s raw vagina.

“God in Heaven!” cried Masson.

As her heart pounded mightily, Claudine moved her fingers until they located a slick mass. Then carefully, slowly, with a firm grip, she pulled it from the Queen’s body. It was a portion of placenta, left behind following the birth.

Masson, still horrified, checked the Queen’s pulse. “Stronger,” he muttered. “And it appears the bleeding is easing.”

Claudine let out a breath. “I knew it would work, Father.”

“But we shall never speak of this!”

“Speak of what?” It was the King in the doorway, flanked by Bontemps, Fabien, and guards. He instantly noticed Claudine’s blood-soaked arm and looked sharply at Masson. “You may leave,” he ordered. Masson, devastated, exited the room.

“What is in your hand?” Louis demanded.

Claudine lifted her chin. “Afterbirth, Sire.”

“Is this how you stopped the bleeding? Lie to me, you lie to God.”

“I removed it from her uterus.”

The King stepped closer. His face was dark, challenging. “How did you know it would stop the blood?”

“I am a midwife. Trained by my father. But I’m also a student of anatomy and medicine.”

“I do not recall signing a law allowing women doctors. A justice would assume the worst and have you burned at the stake.”

“If that is your command, Sire.”

Louis glanced at his wife then again at Claudine. “My command is that you stay close to me on medical matters. You father will remain our physician in the eyes of the court, but the advice I will heed will come from you. Bontemps, let in some air. Unless,” he said to Claudine, “you advise against it?”

Stunned, but refusing to let it show, Claudine answered, “As long as we cover her, fresh air will offer much benefit.” Claudine gently pulled the Queen’s blanket up over her, and Louis reached out to help.

“Don’t look so surprised,” he said with a small smile. “I’ve put many women to bed.”