The Day Before – The Drawing Room of Glass and Smoke
The Duchess d'Artois lounged on a velvet chaise, the lace fan in her hand moving rhythmically as she listened to Madeleine recount the morning's gossip. It was all meant to reassure her.
But even the air seemed too still.
"There are whispers the Queen has grown curious," Madeleine said softly.
"About what?" the Duchess asked sharply.
"About the letter. And the girl."
The fan stopped.
The Duchess narrowed her eyes. "Marie is gone."
"She was seen again yesterday. Not in uniform. But it was her."
The Duchess stood, slowly. "And Montmorency?"
"He is quiet. Too quiet."
That, more than anything, disturbed her.
Silence was a nobleman's blade—more dangerous than shouting, more final than scandal.
"Then we must strike first," she said, turning toward the window. "Before he has the chance."
"Strike how?" Madeleine asked.
Geneviève smiled, cold and glittering. "We offer peace. A gesture of grace. Let the court think I have nothing to hide."
"And Marie?"
"She'll never be accepted again. No one will believe a servant over me."
Madeleine hesitated. "And if they do?"
The Duchess paused only a beat.
"Then I'll make her disappear properly."
---
That Evening – The Conservatory, Candlelit and Crooked
Marie met Montmorency between the rose-trellised walls of the conservatory. Vines tangled above, sweet-scented and quietly watching.
"She'll come," he said. "She thinks she's leading the narrative now."
Marie arched an eyebrow. "You flattered her?"
"Of course. I told her it was time for the court to forget petty rumors—that you had vanished quietly—and that the Queen had grown bored of scandal."
"She believed you?"
Montmorency's mouth twitched. "She wants to."
Marie's hands folded tightly in front of her. "And what of the Queen?"
"She's agreed to be present—but neutral. She knows this court is a nest of serpents."
Marie's voice lowered. "Then let's give them fangs."
---
The Following Day – The Queen's Outer Chamber
The room was golden with morning light, every inch of it drenched in luxury: embroidered chairs, mirrored paneling, candelabras lit despite the sun.
But no warmth lived here today.
The Queen sat on her silver-backed throne, her face unreadable. On either side of her, high-ranking ladies stood in poised silence.
Duchess Geneviève d'Artois entered with grace, head high, gown trailing like spilled ink. Her fan snapped open as she curtsied. "Your Majesty."
"Duchess," the Queen said.
Geneviève turned as Montmorency entered next, followed—unexpectedly—by Marie.
The room shifted. A flicker of murmurs. Eyes widened. A courtier gasped.
Marie stepped forward, her head uncovered, eyes fierce and clear.
Geneviève's smile faltered.
"Your Majesty," Montmorency began, bowing, "I thank you for granting audience. This concerns the matter of a royal letter that was allegedly stolen."
Geneviève interrupted smoothly. "A servant fled with the Queen's correspondence. What else is there to say?"
"She fled," Marie said softly, "because she was set up."
The Duchess turned, mock disbelief etched into every expression. "Set up? And who would bother with such things for a mere chambermaid?"
"You did," Marie said. "You and your lady-in-waiting."
The Queen leaned slightly forward.
Marie withdrew a folded paper from her sleeve. "This is a copy of the kitchen shift ledger. It shows Brigitte's signature the morning of the incident—placing her near the Comtesse's salon, though she was never assigned there."
"And?" the Duchess scoffed.
"She confessed," Marie said. "Said she was promised reassignment to Paris if she unlocked the door and walked away."
"You expect the court to believe the word of a kitchen girl?" the Duchess sneered.
"No," said another voice.
The court turned. Madeleine stood at the edge of the room, ghost-pale.
"I told her to do it," she said quietly. "By your order."
The room fell silent.
The Duchess turned to her, face paling.
"You lying traitor," she hissed.
But Madeleine didn't flinch. "You said no one would question it. That the Duke would tire of her and that it would end cleanly. I didn't know the Queen would be dragged into it."
The Queen's voice rang out: "You involved me?"
Geneviève stiffened. "Majesty, I never—"
"Do not speak," the Queen said, voice like frost.
Then, to Marie: "And you? What is it you seek?"
Marie lifted her chin. "Not revenge. Just truth. I would like to return to my duties—with the court's knowledge that I was falsely accused."
The Queen's gaze lingered. Then she nodded. "Granted."
A murmur rippled through the gathered nobles.
And then the Queen added, to Montmorency, "And if you should require this woman's service closer to your own household, I shall not object."
That alone was a quiet endorsement. A signal.
The Duchess, trembling, curtsied. "Your Majesty, I—I acted rashly. Out of—concern for appearances—"
"Your grace," the Queen said sharply. "Leave."
Geneviève turned, humiliated, humiliated publicly, and swept from the chamber with every eye on her.
But none were as cutting as Marie's.
---
Later – The Marble Terrace
The garden glowed in the golden dusk.
Marie stood by the balustrade, the breeze catching loose strands of her hair. Montmorency approached quietly, his coat unbuttoned, his face relaxed for the first time in days.
"She won't try again," he said.
"No," Marie replied. "She won't need to. She's already lost."
He offered her a look—half admiration, half awe. "You frightened her."
Marie smiled. "Good."
He paused beside her. "You know, the Queen hinted I should bring you into my household."
Marie looked out over the gardens. "And would you?"
"Yes," he said simply. "Not as a servant. As you."
She turned to him, heart thudding.
"Then perhaps," she said softly, "the war is only just beginning."
But now… she was no longer fighting alone.
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