I'm relieved to learn that the girls from the brothel all find themselves a place to stay, until I figure out something. Sarah and Julienne need the money as badly as I do. Neither of them are married. Lora, I don't know her situation. She moved in with her brother. I've still yet to find myself a place to stay. There's one option I won't consider—Rowland.
With the help of the girls, I rummage through the burned remains. There's not much to scavenge. Charlotte and Marie will be devastated upon their return. At least I know they're okay, far from here.
Horses clomp toward us. I brush my hands, attempting to rid the ash and soot away. It does little good. Two guards ride at the front. King Alexander accompanies them and, behind him, Vincent. Shit. What's he doing here? I haven't time to pray they'll continue before the men stall the horses right in front of what had once been the brothel.
I bow before royalty though I want to snarl at Vincent. Why else had King Alexander ridden from the castle to Paris?
"Your Majesty," I say, my head bent down, graceful as best I can. I'm still in my chemise, though it's dark and soot covered, so it doesn't even offer the attraction of being what it once was. I'm not sure anyone can tell it had been a chemise now, instead of a gown. The color is gray, the bottom shredded and singed from the embers.
He disembarks from the horse, handing the reins to a guard to handle while he surveys the damage. "What's your name?"
"Mistress Helene," I say, standing tall, trying to offer as much respect as possible to King Alexander. It is an honor to be in his presence. Kings don't make house visits or offer their help or assistance to very many commoners.
"Do we know how the fire came to be?" he asks.
"I suspect a candle had been left unattended," I say. Fires aren't relatively uncommon; the king visiting after a fire, however, is beyond ordinary. "May I ask what you're doing here?" I know it's not my place to question a king, but I can't help but feel a hint of trepidation.
"My guard, Vincent, informed me that a house had burned down with several sisters inside. He suggested we come and pay you a visit, offer any help that you might need in the meantime. We invite you to stay at the palace. There's plenty of room for a few women and an abundance of food. It would be an honor to get to know more about you, Mistress Helene, and your sisters."
"That isn't necessary. My sisters have found other accommodations, though I appreciate your hospitality." I try to sound grateful. The king is offering his home to my ladies. That isn't typical. Of course, if he knew my "sisters" were ladies who worked at a brothel, would he be so inviting?
"Where are you staying?" King Alexander asks.
He's taller than I am, his gaze tense as I waiver with answering.
"I have yet to find a place." I don't dare lie and say that I'll be staying with my husband. Perhaps I'm afraid of Alexander meeting Rowland. The king is an honorable man; my husband is far from it, with his gambling debts and harassment to me.
"Ride with Vincent. You will come to court and stay with us."
I want to say no, but I know not to turn down the proposal of a king. I have the distinct feeling he's not asking me to join him at court; he's telling me to come with him.
"Of course, Your Majesty. It would be an honor," I say.
"Good." King Alexander pulls back, glancing me over, his eyes moving down my body. "We'll get you new clothes upon our arrival." He turns around to face Vincent, as he's still sitting atop his horse. "You will accompany Mistress Helene to the palace. Get her whatever she needs to be comfortable. She is our guest at court."
Vincent nods his agreement along with the other guards.
I walk closer to Vincent and climb behind him on the horse. I've no choice but to wrap my arms around his waist, clinging to him as we ride hard back to court.
The journey is uncomfortable at best. Though I don't own a horse, I've ridden on plenty and find this situation to be the far most awkward, forced to cling to Vincent. I fear letting him go, falling off the beast, and at the same time gripping him is like fire burning my flesh. It hurts in every possible way.
"You're grip is tight," he says under his breath.
Have I made it difficult for him to breathe? Though not my intention, I quirk a smile as I rest my cheek against his back and shut my eyes. The air flows against my skin until we slow on our approach.
"Good." I can't fathom why Vincent returned with the king and is adamant about me staying at the royal palace. It makes little sense to me, but I'm grateful the king doesn't know I'm a madame. I'm not sure how he'd take to the news.
"Ever been inside the royal castle?" Vincent asks.
"Only for the coronation." The ceremony had been held at court and everyone had been invited to attend. Given the fact the brothel was empty that afternoon and the town dead, I went along for the festivities with two of my girls, long after the ceremony had ended.
"I must say, I'm surprised you agreed so easily when King Alexander asked you to join us back at court."
Vincent climbs down from the horse, offering me a hand. I oblige, taking it as I feel my feet smack the earth and dust spray the hem of my chemise. It's not like it wasn't already filthy.
"I didn't see much choice." When the king invites you to stay at the palace, you do as you are told. I'd learned that much from my mother, growing up, hearing stories of royalty and balls. Perhaps that had been in part why she had bedded King Charles. I will never know if it was love or lust, nor do I care.
"Funny, when I mentioned it, you were completely opposed to the idea."
"You're not a king," I say, shutting him up.
"Fair enough." Vincent doesn't look pleased as a scornful look grazes his features, his brow furrowed and his cheeks turning a blushing pink as he leads me through the castle doors.
I take in the sight of the stone walls and wooden door, carved with intricate detail. It's lovely and without a doubt more beautiful than the brothel. One would expect nothing less for a king and queen.
"Follow me," Vincent says, leading me through the foyer and up the back stairwell. The walls are made of a beautiful gray stone, smooth to the touch.
I hesitate upon the stairs, my hand finding the cool metal railing. "Where are we going?" I wish I could trust Vincent blindly, follow him without question, but I can't. I know I should feel safe in these premises, fit literally for a king, but after the fire, I can't help but wonder if someone had intended to destroy only the brothel or me as well. Though I try not to acquire enemies, unpleasant circumstances do happen.
Insecurities aside, Vincent taking charge makes me anxious. I wish not for him to know of where my chambers will be, especially after touching myself imagining it was him. I'd prefer it to remain a fantasy, not that there isn't an attraction. I know I must make do, follow orders and be on my most lady-like behavior to avoid suspicion. No one can know I'm the madame.
"You need new clothes and a bed. Given that Hannah has left recently, I see no reason why you can't have her accommodations."
"Hannah?"
"She was a lady-in-waiting to Queen Isabella. Now that she's gone from the castle, there's a perfectly fine bed going to waste."
I'd met Hannah, but I don't divulge that detail to Vincent. He leads me up to the top floor. I glance down the stairwell and feel a bout of dizziness, terrified of heights. A sheen of sweat coats my forehead and breasts as I stumble forward following the guard. He turns the handle to the door on the far left of the hallway and opens it for me.
"Thank you," I say, expelling a heavy breath as I wander into the darkened room. My feet patter against the cold floor as I approach the window, allowing light into the room. I try not to look straight down upon opening the glass. The cool air licks my skin and forces me to shiver. It's pleasant outside but I'm overheated from the journey and my nerves.
Vincent stands at the door jamb, unwilling to leave just yet. "There are a few rules you should know about the palace."
"Rules?" What's he talking about?
"Yes, for your protection and the safety of the king and queen. Any room with its door shut is not for you to enter. You are to eat with the staff, not the guests or the nobles. Roaming around the halls after dark is prohibited."
"Anything else?" The rules seem sensible enough.
"I'll get a maid to fetch you water for a bath. There are clothes in the trunk for you to change into after you get cleaned up."
I am in dire need of a good cleaning after the ash and soot coated my skin. "Thank you."
He retreats from my room. The bed looks plush and inviting, but I know I'm a mess and need a bath first. I approach the window, feeling the sun warm my cheeks. It's already mid-afternoon and my stomach grumbles in protest. I haven't eaten anything all day.
The maids enter my room, bringing buckets of hot water to fill the tub. I wait to undress and allow the steaming water to cool slightly before slinking into the bath. The water is still warm, my body submerged as I wipe the grime and soot from the day away. Within a few seconds, the crystal-clear water is brown and black, swirling around me. I shut my eyes and slink under the water, rinsing my hair of ash. The maid left a bar of soap and I scrub at my skin and under my nails. I want to look presentable should I run into the queen. Perhaps if I don't dress as a madame, she won't recognize me.
The water grows cold and goose bumps line my flesh. Stepping out of the bath, I dry off and rummage through the gowns, surprised by their intricate detail. Why hadn't Hannah taken them with her when she left? I put on a new chemise and stockings before pulling the chocolate colored gown over my head. The dress is far more elegant than anything I've ever owned. All the clothes are gorgeous enough to be worn by a queen. I'm surprised that they were owned by a lady-in-waiting.
I brush through my tangles and slip a ribbon around my tresses, pulling my hair back out of my eyes.
My stomach grumbles. It feels unpleasant, a slight burning sensation with an ache for sustenance. I'm quiet as I leave my room and manage my way into the kitchen, stealing a slice of bread from the counter. No one seems to notice me. It's as if I'm invisible. Or perhaps they're trained to ignore me. Grateful for the lack of questions and interrogation, I grab a few extra pieces of fruit and retreat down the hall.
"Mistress Helene."
Vincent's voice startles me. I spin around on my heels that are much too big, and finish chewing the piece of bread in my mouth. I swallow the dry rations before opening my mouth. "I was just grabbing a bite to eat." Carrying an apple in each hand, he glances down at me disapprovingly.
"Did you not hear my rules just an hour ago?" Vincent asks.
I heard his rules. My stomach and I chose to ignore them. After my bath, I got hungry. Didn't Vincent understand that I hadn't eaten anything all morning and we'd ridden for hours on horseback back to the palace? I force the words past my dry lips, more for him than me. I don't mean them. "Sorry."
"Come with me." Vincent's tone is sharp and short. "You broke the rules, Helene. There are consequences for not following orders." He grabs me by the elbow and whisks me into a nearby room, kicking the door shut behind us.
I slip from his grasp as he blocks my exit. Consequences? Is he out of his mind? I should have known not to trust him and come to court. Not that I felt there was much choice, but I could have lied to the king or told him I had a husband to stay with. It might have begged more questions but those, I could have skirted. "Let me go!"
"Not until you've been taken over my knee."
I scoff at his words. He's not serious. "What are you going to do, spank me?" I'm half-joking. Rowland wasn't a prince, but he never would have had the strength to discipline me.
"Yes." Vincent's eyes are narrow and his tone firm. "The longer you delay, the more it'll hurt." Vincent stalks closer, grabbing me by the waist and dragging me over his lap as he sits at a chair nestled against the wall. He lifts my dress over my bottom, staring at my naked cheeks.
"Let me down this instant!" I scream, feeling the first lash as his hand smacks my bottom.
"Not until you've learned your lesson," Vincent says. "This is for your own good. You need to learn your place here at the royal palace." Another swat to my rear and I'm sure it's red and marked with his handprint.
"I won't do it again. I was hungry!"
Another spank.
Tears glisten my eyes. "Please, Vincent." I feel humiliated. Having sex with men is nothing compared to the strange intimacy I feel now. His hand comes down to spank me again and again. I squirm to get away, my legs kicking, and I know my face is as red as my bottom.
"Rules are in place for a reason. The king expects me to enforce those rules." Vincent rubs my bottom, caressing the raw skin before giving me another lashing.
I sniffle, trying my best not to cry. I don't wish for him to see me vulnerable. My bottom must be swollen. I feel a strange, familiar ache of arousal growing below. How the hell did he manage that? I know my pink flesh must be giving him an eye full. Wetness begins to seep between my folds, and I clench with each swat to my bottom, silently begging for him not to see my arousal.
"Will you obey me from now on?" Vincent asks.
What other choice do I have? "Yes," I say. I don't want another spanking now or ever again.
"Let this be a reminder if you break the rules what will happen." His palm comes down again and my hips buck, trying to get away. He lowers my dress and guides me off his lap. "Remember, this is for your own protection."
I bite on my bottom lip, keeping my mouth from running. There are a few choice words I'd like to give him, but I fear the response it will bring upon myself. "Am I dismissed?" I ask, glancing at the door.
Vincent gives a brief nod and I hurry for the hallway.
"Wait."
I cringe, my back to Vincent. What could he possibly want now?
"Here. Don't let anyone else see what you have," he says, handing me back the apples. My stomach grumbles the moment they're in my possession. "I'll see you again at dinner. I expect you'll be on your best behavior."
I nod.
"What's that?" Vincent asks. "Didn't hear you."
"Yes, sir." I say, my eyes bent down.
Now which way was it back to my room? The corridors all look the same with the gray stone walls and stairways that circle to the top floor of the palace.
I begin my climb, two apples in my hands as I'm careful up the stairwell. Should someone discover me with the forbidden fruit, I don't know what will become of me a second time. The few stray tears have dried, though my cheeks feel warm and sticky.
"Helene."
I don't recognize the voice and turn around glancing over my shoulder. Am I supposed to know this gentleman? He's not wearing a guard's uniform or dressed like a noble. I shove my hands with the apples behind my back. I can't take a second lashing to my bottom. The pain stings immensely.
"Hello." If I've been acquainted with him in the past, I don't wish to give myself away. There have been many men who frequented the brothel. Surely, he was one whom another girl had taken to her bed.
"You don't recognize me." The smile only seems to grow wider. "We grew up together. Your mother was a seamstress; my father was the blacksmith."
My eyes widen and I laugh, feeling relief flood through me. He was the first boy I'd kissed, or rather, he stole a kiss from me when we were six. I'd least expected the ordeal as he chased me around the yard playing tag and he surprised me when he planted one on my lips. In return, I punched him in the face, giving the boy a bruise the size of a peach across his cheek. We had both been punished for the ordeal; I was spanked, and he was belted. It was a memory I hadn't thought of in years.
"I didn't know you worked in the palace," I say. Truth was I hadn't kept up with where he went after he left home. I had spent that time caring for my dying mother. Everything else around me seemed to disappear.
"I don't," he says.
I glance him over. Surely, he's not lying based on his attire. He's wearing nothing more than what an ordinary young gentleman would wear. It pains me that I can't remember the strange boy's name. He had a dusting of freckles as a kid and now, staring at his features, I see the same pale blue eyes and red hair mopped across his forehead, nearly down to his eyes. We could have been siblings, in another life.
"Then what are you doing here?" His name grazes the tip of my tongue, like an itch I can't quite reach. It's painful and embarrassing all the same.
He glances at me and then behind him. "Walk with me." He takes my arm, guiding me down the few stairs I walked up. I hesitate as he leads me through a wooden door that creaks as it opens. I've broken another rule. I glance over my shoulder, praying Vincent hasn't noticed.
Once outside and alone, he leads me to a wooden bench in the middle of the grounds. I don't sit. He gives me a strange look, obviously confused but doesn't say a word about it.
The land is beautiful inside the center of the palace. Though small, it smells wonderful. The sun shines down at an angle, still warm, making it comfortable to sit. There are few trees, none offering shade beside the bench. The wind has stalled, and I relax, awaiting the story he's about to tell. I can't imagine what reason he has for coming to the palace. It must be good if he's telling me in secret.
"My wife has been falsely accused of treason. I came here begging for her life."
I exhale a soft puff of air. That certainly was not what I expected to hear. I rest a hand against my chest, feeling my heart palpitate. "Perhaps you can plead her case to the king. Explain the truth," I say. There must be some room for leniency, though I've heard in instances of treason, little is often given.
"It's too late. I spoke with King Alexander and I'm not in his favor. Neither is my wife."
My teeth tug on my bottom lip, chewing it raw. Anxiety ebbs away at me. "Tell me what happened. Perhaps I can help." I don't have any idea what I could offer that he hasn't tried already, but when it comes to being sentenced to death, I won't ignore it, either. This young man was a friend of mine. We grew up together. A faint smile tugs at the corners of my lips, feeling relieved. His name is Christopher.
"How would you be able to help?" he asks.
"I don't know." It's the truth. There's no harm in trying.
"My wife, Katherine, and I were at the market in Paris. We were spending the afternoon shopping when someone hastily knocked into her. The next thing we know, two guards stopped us and searched our belongings. There was a map inside, one we didn't purchase, let alone even know we had. I didn't get a good look at it, but there must have been something significant marked on it. All I can think is that the woman who knocked into Katherine must have dropped the map as she tried to escape."
"What did the other woman look like?" I ask.
Christopher frowns, a line etched across his forehead. "She had dark curly hair, same as Katherine. They both wore a dark red gown. It was as if she tried to match my wife's appearance and set her up."
"Who would do such a thing or even know what your wife would be wearing?"
"I honestly don't know. We keep to ourselves. Katherine and I, we're good people. Her family comes from a long lineage of farmers. They're honest souls. She would never rebel against King Alexander."
"I'll talk to him and see if I can help." It's a long shot and Christopher must realize that, but I can't ignore the impending death of an innocent woman, either. King Alexander seems like a reasonable man. Perhaps if I explain the situation to him, the guards would continue to search for the real betrayer to the country.
I stumble into King Alexander, tripping over his boot, landing face-first on the solid stone floor. Not that I'd admit it aloud, but it was anything but an accident. I need the king's undivided attention and Queen Isabella is always at his side. It was a spur of the moment rash decision that landed me with a few bruises. I rub the pain away and stand, the king helping me to my feet, walking me away from his wife toward the back of the corridor.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm sorry," I say, quick to apologize for grazing his boot, though the damage was entirely done to me and none to him. It's probably for the best. The last thing I want is someone saying I tried to assault the king. "My mind is in the clouds today." I laugh softly, a frown on my face as I try to play up my charm and work my game.
"You'd best keep an eye on where you're going," King Alexander says.
"Oh, I will. I just…" I pause a long moment, showing him how difficult this is for me to say. It's quite true, my stomach is bubbling rapidly with anxiety and my heart speeds up at the fear of how he will react for my intrusion. "I ran into an old friend who I knew growing up, Christopher Lane. Perhaps you know him. His wife is being charged with treason."
Alexander lets out a heavy sigh. His brow burrows the moment I speak Christopher's name. The look on his face tells me he knows whom I'm talking about, but I suspect he wants this over with quickly. I don't give him time to end the conversation or dismiss me.
"I can assure you that Katherine and Christopher are good and honest people, loyal to the crown and to you, Your Majesty." I curtsey before the king, showing my own loyalty. The last thing I want is to find myself charged with treason because I'm speaking on their behalf.
"Did your friend confide in you that we found a map with detailed plans for attack in his wife's possession?"
"He did," I say, refusing to shy away from the truth. My eyes lock on King Alexander's and though I keep my voice down, my tone is even and without regret. "Katherine was set up by a traitor to the crown. Let me find who is responsible before you execute an innocent woman."
Alexander's face is grim. He strokes his jaw, considering my request. "She's already been sentenced. However, we could delay the execution for a few days. I'll give you three days' time to bring me the traitor. Otherwise, Katherine and Christopher will both be executed."
My eyes widen and my heart momentarily skips a beat. Christopher? Alexander is going to kill Christopher if I fail? I tremble, my legs unsteady, but I refuse to show my doubts and fears before the king. "I assure you that I will find whoever is responsible. May I ask for assistance on my journey? Christopher would need to be at my side, for he saw the woman who is responsible."
The king's eyes are sharp and his jaw tight. "Know that if you don't bring me the traitor or Christopher, I will have my men come after you as well."
I should have expected nothing less from a king. "Of course, Your Majesty." I curtsey and slip out of his grasp. Quickly, I'm light on my feet, and dart through the castle, trying to find Christopher. I want to shout for him, but I worry about the unwanted attention I would draw toward myself.
Down the corridor, I hear King Alexander behind me. "Mistress Helene."
"Yes?" I turn around on my feet, quick to answer him.
"Bring Vincent with you. I trust he'll aid you in any help you need detaining this traitor."
Vincent. Great. The last person I want to deal with after my sore bottom he's given me. "Of course," I say, offering the best smile I can muster when my heart is telling me he will lead me straight into danger.