Louis stood and pulled his coat from a chair. “I’m going to war. Where it is safe.”

Henriette blinked. “I do not understand.”

“And you are coming with me.”

Henriette frowned and pushed her hair back from her face. “Why?”

“Would you wish to be somewhere else?”

“Of course not.”

“A new day is coming.” Louis buttoned his coat and walked to the door.

A private meeting was held in the King’s apartment, with only the King and the Emissary from the Holy Roman Empire in attendance. Bontemps and Fabien waited obediently outside the closed door with a pair of guards.

Louis, dressed in his most royal garb and wig, sat in his chair while the Emissary sat upon a lower stool, presenting his case. “The Spanish grow weary with our silence, Sire,” the Emissary said. “They wish us to intervene.”

“You have claim by inheritance,” Louis replied. “We have claim by the law. We need not fight each other for the prize. Though many in your council would benefit from war, I am sure.”

The Emissary folded his hands on his knees and took a deep breath. “The circles are divided. But if our present discussions were to establish a policy between us –”

“Your Prince Auersperg, of the noble Austrian family, might get his cardinal’s hat.”

The Emissary smiled, impressed. “Indeed, Majesty.”

Louis leaned forward, fingers linking. “Let us move, then, to a treaty.” A small trickle of blood began to run down his face from under his wig. “A treaty in secret between the Kingdoms of France and the House of Habsburg to divide the territory on the death of the Spanish king.” The blood continued to run, a wider rivulet now, covering his cheek and his chin. “The health of the ruler is paramount to the security of state.”

“Your Majesty.” The Emissary’s cheek tightened with concern and a bit of embarrassment. “Your face.”

“My face?” Louis touched his face then studied his hand, now coated with bright red.

The Emissary hurried to the door and pulled it open. Fabien saw the Emissary’s face – it was the man Fabien did not know, the man he had worried about, had asked about. He drew back in surprise and distrust.

“Quickly!” shouted the Emissary. “A doctor!”

Fabien hesitated.

“Did you not hear me, man?”

Louis appeared at the door, blood still streaming, holding on to the sill, his vest now soaked.

“I will fetch Masson, Sire!” said Bontemps.

“Not that doctor,” said Louis. “The other one.” He closed the door.

Bontemps raised a warning finger to Fabien. “No one must enter,” he said, and then he took off down the hallway.