Chapter 5

One minute I was running through the tunnels with everyone else, our cell phone flashlights bouncing off the walls of rock along with the sound of our voices, each of us choosing a different off-shoot to explore, with the plan to meet back in the main tunnel. The next minute, there was a flash of light as if lightning had come straight from the sky through every layer of the castle, hitting the tunnel right where I stood. I somehow stumbled then, and it was suddenly pitch black. I felt completely disoriented like I’d just gotten off one of those rides at an amusement park that spins you senseless. Wait, lightening in a tunnel? That wasn’t possible, was it? Wouldn’t I have been electrocuted? Wouldn’t something be burning? Instead, it felt like I had been sucked into a spinning vortex. I could have sworn I had flown through the air of the tunnel in slow motion, tumbling head over heels in midair and landing back on solid ground. Had I tripped on something? What in the world just happened? I thought to myself.

My iPhone was still in my hand, but the flashlight had gone off. I tried to switch it back on to see where I was, but the battery must have died. Strange, because it had been fully charged before entering the tunnels. Slipping the phone back in the pocket of my dress, I reached my hands out to follow the walls of the tunnel, trying to orient myself in the dark. I couldn’t tell if I was going back the way I had come, or going forward.

“Alex? Hello? Anyone?” I tried calling out to find the others, but the tunnel was eerily quiet. I felt as if I were the only one there, but that couldn’t be right. I knew there was a whole group of us. Then why couldn’t I hear the others? Did they see that big blast of light like I did? Had they found a different tunnel and left me behind? The texture of the wall beneath my hand seemed to change from rock to wood. Ah, a door! I felt around the edges of the door, trying to discover where the hinges were, feeling for a handle of some sort so I could pull it open. There, I found hinges on the right-hand side. Sliding my hand to the left, I found a round metal handle that squeaked when I tugged on it, probably from rust and disuse. I hope this door opens, I thought. Who knew what was on the other side? I just prayed it was a room that would lead me back to the main part of the castle so I could figure out where I was and at least find my parents. I tugged the handle again, harder this time, but nothing budged. Please, oh please don’t be cemented in, I pleaded with the unseen stars above. I’d obviously need more force to get this thing to move. So I grabbed the ring with both hands, and put one foot up on the wall to help push off. Blowing a curl off my face, I silently counted to three. One. Two. Three. I shoved off the wall while simultaneously pulling with all my might. Success! It moved. OK, maybe only an inch, but still, that meant it hadn’t been closed off for the past 400 years. I tugged again and soon a sliver of light shone through the crack. I stopped, and listened to see if there were voices. I sure didn’t want to pop out of the wall and surprise anyone. But honestly, if there’d been someone there, I’m sure they would have heard the squeaky hinges. I managed to get the door opened just enough to slide me and my ginormous dress through, brushing cobwebs and whatever gross stuff I’d run into off my face. Ick! I didn’t even want to know.

I looked around to get my bearings and found I was in what looked like a bedroom. And, uh, it looked like it was being used. What? I didn’t know people actually still lived in the castle. I mean, how weird would that be with tours going through it every day? But sure enough, there was a bed with heavy curtains hung all around, and a chair next to it with a pile of clothes flung over it. The walls were covered with tapestries, and...wall sconces? Are those things fake? I wondered, walking over to one to see how they’d recreated such a thing to look like real fire burning on a stick. Whoa, wait a second.‒I pulled my hand back quickly before I could burn myself.T‒hat IS real fire on a stick! Why in the world would they leave this thing burning during a ball? With all these people in the castle? And in a bedroom that none of the guests were meant to see? In fact, why was there a fire burning in the fireplace? Granted, it was burning low, but still, dangerous, right? I noticed a window near the bed and went to see if I could figure out where I was by looking outside. Maybe I’d see the bonfire? The window was higher up than I thought and I had to push the chair over to stand on it. Carefully lifting up the yards of fabric of my dress, and trying not to stand on the pile of clothes, I put one foot on the chair and hauled myself up. I had to grab the iron bars of the window to keep my balance.

I took in the scene below, but nothing looked familiar. I saw woods in the distance, but no garden, and no bonfire. I had just deduced that I must be on the back side of the castle when a voice startled me from behind, causing me to lose my grip on the window.

“What are you doing in my chambers?” I managed to hear and process in French, when I lost my my balance and knew without a doubt that I was about to fall off the chair. I flailed my arms trying to regain balance, but it was a lost cause. So, I braced myself for the landing and fell into two strong arms instead, whacking my rescuer in the face with a flying arm in the process. I heard an “Oof!” while I muttered a “Sorry!” and we stumbled to the ground together. He absorbed the brunt of the fall and I landed with a thud on top of him, his arms still holding me close in a protective embrace. My arms were around his neck as if he were a buoy in the middle of the ocean. Only instead of ocean, we seemed to be drowning in the emerald green waves of my dress.

I thought maybe if I just closed my eyes, this whole embarrassing moment would go away. But as I opened them, nope, I was still there sprawled on top of someone, staring at a gold button on a rock-solid chest. My gaze continued up, following the buttons to the face I hardly dared look at. My own burned red with embarrassment. There was a chiseled jaw, covered with a dusting of facial hair perfectly outlining the jawline, full lips, a long nose down which two beautifully blue eyes stared back at me. What? I don’t remember an Adam Levine look-alike at the ball. Who was this guy? Flustered, I tried desperately to remove myself from his person, but only managed to get more and more tangled up in my stupid dress with all its stupid layers. He grabbed hold of both my arms to hold me still, and somehow, got the two of us off the ground, setting me down squarely in front of him.

“Er, I’m very sorry about that.” I decided an apology was in order, but knew my face was burning red with embarrassment. I kept my head down, smoothing out the yards of skirt fabric, and fluffing it up to keep from looking him in the eye. “I’m usually not so clumsy, but you scared me.”

“Pardon, mademoiselle...I frightened you? Need I point out, again, that you are trespassing in my private quarters? I believe I am still waiting for an explanation.”

“Yeah, what’s with that anyway? Who goes about living in castles? Is this just like, a one-night thing? Some sort of, see-what-it’s-like-to-live-in-a-castle-without-electricity experience? This whole room is one big fire hazard.” I waved my arms around to include all the burning wall sconces to prove my point. Granted, I was stalling for time, not really wanting to come clean about the whole creeping-around-the-tunnels-that-we-weren’t-supposed-to-be-in thing. And I might also have been babbling a bit, like I sometimes do when confronted by extremely good-looking boys I’ve just met. Because trust me, he really was nice to look at. But seriously, he didn’t have to look down his long nose at me as if I were five.

“M’moiselle,”‒yeah, he had that superior look perfected,‒“eeven if I could manage to understand the peculiar way you speak, I do not have to explain myself to you or to anyone. This castle, as you say, is my home. I am Charles, son of Francis the First, King of France.”

“Bwahaha!” I started to literally laugh out loud, but then caught a glimpse of the serious look on his face. For some reason, he didn’t seem amused by this reaction. OK, well maybe someone hired some actors to make this night feel more legit. I got it. Whatever. Two could play this game. Hmmm, who would I be in this time period? The ancestor my dad told me about popped into my head, the musician I must take after. That’s it, I thought, and had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

“A prince, eh?” I grabbed my skirts on each side and made a rather ridiculous curtsy, bowing my head as one must in front of royalty, and trying really hard not to roll my eyes. “Isabelle Blanchet, court musician, at your service, Sire.”

“A musician?” His eyebrows raised like he didn’t believe me. Come on, it was more believable than saying I was a princess, don’t you think? He paced back and forth in front of me, mumbling to himself. I couldn’t quite make out the words. A few popped out at me; a lady, musician, impossible. OK, this guy was getting on my nerves. The game was getting old. But at the same time….

“Wait. Why do you think a woman can’t be a musician? I will have you know I have ancestors who came before me, women, who were also musicians, and I carry on their tradition.” Well, at least I had one ancestor, but he didn’t need to know that. “I’m tired of this charade, I’m going to find my parents.” Turning, with my chin in the air, I strolled toward the door. Or, OK, I might have been stomping. I was mad after all.

He stopped in his tracks, and blocked my path. “In my experience m’moiselle, women who are musicians are most often spies. Just as women who dabble in herbology are most often witches. The odd coincidence that places you here, in a room you have no business being in, and claim to be a musician tells me that you are in fact, a spy. What information you are looking for, and for whom you may be working, eludes me. But make no mistake, I will find out.”

“Alright, that’s enough. Seriously, do you get off on this kind of thing? Is that why you like to playact in the 16th century and pretend to be a prince? So you can put down women and feel all superior? I don’t care what century you’re from. You, sir, are an egotistical sexist pig!” With that I picked up my skirts and swept past him, head held high, face burning. The nerve of that guy! Really, where do they find these people? Typical freaking Frenchman. I had just made it to the door when I heard him speak again in a low voice.

“Prove it.”

“Prove what? I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

“There you are wrong, m’moiselle. I could have you thrown in the stocks just for having found you in my room. I could have your head for the insults you threw at a Prince of France. Prove that you are the musician you confess to be, and you might just save your pretty head for one more day.”

This guy was too much. Really, taking this acting gig to the extreme weren’t we? Whatever. I just needed to get out of this room and find my parents. Maybe he’d cool his heels then and I could palm him off on someone else to playact with. “You want me to sing? Fine, I can sing.” I took a deep breath ready to launch into a song when he grabbed my arm and stopped me.

“Not here.” He pulled me out the door, into the hallway. “In front of the king and his assembly.”

“The King, right. OK, I’ll sing in front of ‘the king’.” Another eye roll. Really? I don’t remember seeing someone acting as King and Queen tonight, but clearly, I had missed a lot while I was in the tunnels or outside on the terrace in the gardens.

He lead me down the hall, my arm still in his grasp. What, did he think I was going to run away in this getup? I looked around the hallway, trying to get my bearings. I wasn’t sure if I’d been in this part of the castle before. The castle looked different. It was much darker than it had been before. They must have turned off the lights when they went out to do the bonfire. It was the only explanation I could think of. We were on an upper level and I looked down over the balustrade to see what was below. I gasped at what I saw, and when I realized where I was. I was walking along the very upper hallway I had walked earlier with my parents. But it was all different.

No rugs along the hallway, no electric lights. I looked across to where the musicians had been before, but it was an empty balcony, shrouded in darkness. There was no music. The throne room below was filled with people, sure enough. Some were standing around talking, some eating. But it was dark, so much darker than it had been before. Gone were the fairy lights, replaced by wall sconces like the ones in the bedchamber I’d just left. A large iron chandelier hung high above the room, lit with what looked like real candles. I could think of a hundred reasons why that couldn’t be safe, I thought. As we descended the stairs, I looked at the faces of the people in the room, trying to find those I could recognize. Were Alex and the others my age still in the tunnels? I didn’t see any of them. In fact, I didn’t recognize a single face. Now my heart started to beat in double time. Where were my parents? Please tell me they’re outside or somewhere near. Maybe they were looking for me? As we crossed the floor, people moved aside for us, bowing to the “prince” as we passed. They must all be actors? I looked to my right, out the windows to see the Loire River and assure myself I wasn’t going insane. But it was pitch black there too, no lights shining on the river as they had been earlier that night. Maybe the town was having a blackout? That would explain all the candles. I looked to my left, out the glass doors that led to the gardens. But all I saw was dark as well, no more fairy lights. Just lingering red coals from what looked like a bonfire, set much closer to the castle. That certainly wasn’t there before. No one else was outside. It was clear the bonfire had burned down and everyone had come back inside. Now I was becoming alarmed. Did my parents leave without me? Where was everyone? And more importantly, who were these people?

We’d made it to the middle of the room, everyone continuing to clear a space for us, and when I glanced up, I noticed the thrones up on the dais. The rope to keep people from sitting on them that I’d seen earlier was gone. For there were people sitting on them now. People that looked very regal. In fact, one could even say they looked, well, like a king and a queen.

Charles stopped and bowed toward the king. “Father, Mother,” he acknowledged them both. “May I introduce Mademoiselle Isabelle Blanchet, the musician for whom we have been waiting.” He let go of me then, and took a step behind me. What was I supposed to do exactly? Keep up the act? I raised my eyebrow at him in question. He gave a quick cough into his fisted hand and gestured for me to bow to the king and queen. Alrighty then, charade it was. I faced forward and did my curtsy and bow thing to each one respectively.

“Your Majesties.” I managed to croak.

The Queen gestured with her hand that I could rise, so I did and looked on expectantly. What am I supposed to do next?

“You are here to entertain us?” the king asked me. Err, I guess so? What was I supposed to say? Actually, I’d just really like to find my parents if you’d point me in their direction, is what I wanted to say. Instead:

“If it pleases your Majesties,” I replied while inclining my head toward the king. Hey, I’ve seen enough movies set in this time period, I could surely act as well as the rest of them. I decided to channel my inner Drew Barrymore a la “Ever After”.

The King seemed to give consent with yet another hand wave motioning me to begin. What was with all the hand gestures anyway? I looked around at the expectant crowd. Wait, was that a Leonardo da Vinci look-alike over there in that corner? How cool is that! OK, don’t lose your nerve. I guess this would be good experience for me to sing in front of a crowd before going on tour. I was used to singing in front of a camera, at least. Granted, it was a little different than a live performance. But what the heck, I could do this right? I wish I had my guitar. Unfortunately, another quick look around the room for a piano, or musical instruments of any kind, didn’t fare any better. OK then. Acappella it is. I glanced up at the king and noticed a goblet in his hand, which gave me an idea. Hey, if Anna Kendrick could do it, why not me?

“May I have the use of your goblet, Sire?” I inquired. He looked a bit startled at my request, but downed the rest of its contents and handed it over to me. I glanced down at the floor and knew at once that sitting down there was out of the question in this dress, not to mention it looked like it hadn’t been mopped for centuries. So I turned to Charles, oh excuse me, I mean the prince.

“I will require that small table over there, and chair, if you please.” Again with the hand gestures. He motioned to what seemed to be servants standing in the background against the wall. They moved the table and chair to the center of the room. One of the men eyed me holding the king’s goblet. Like what, did he think I was going to steal it? There were a million of them being sold in the castle gift store. I’d seen them there. All fake gold plated on the inside with plastic jewels hot-glued to the outside, just like the one in my hand. The servants melted back into the woodwork again, and Charles held out the chair for me to sit. I did so and placed the goblet on the table in front of me. I noticed the quiet room around me, intent on my next move. OK, I thought, here goes.

I turned the goblet upside down on the table. It seemed like the whole room gasped in unison, though I couldn’t see why. Surely they’d seen this before? It was all over YouTube, even before the movie “Pitch Perfect” made it famous. I let out a breath and found my zone. Just pretend there’s a camera in front of you, I thought to myself. Taking a deep breath, I clapped my hands and started a rhythm on the goblet, moving it from side to side and flipping it over in beat with my hands. Then I started to sing.

I could tell I had a captive audience. Not a single soul moved or spoke. Not even whispering to one another. I lost myself in the song like I normally do, letting my voice take over. Adding runs, sustaining notes. Keeping up the rhythm with my hands and the cup, sorry, goblet. Pausing for dramatic effect before going into the last chorus. Singing my heart out because I sure didn’t think I was going to miss this place when I was gone.

Clap, clap, and cup turn over, done. I put my hands in my lap.

Then I slowly looked up, waiting for the applause. But everyone just stared at me with wide eyes. As if the cup song were the most outrageous thing they’d ever seen or heard. They looked toward the king waiting for his response. It seemed like they were all holding their breath for some reason. What in the world was going on here? Only the da Vinci look-alike seemed to be smiling in my direction. I looked at the king and shrugged a shoulder, as if to say, there you go, your entertainment for the evening. All of a sudden he stood, and then, with a broad smile spreading across his face, he began to clap. The whole room seemed to let out a collective breath at once and joined in on the applause. Charles pulled out my chair and helped me to stand. I curtsied toward the king and queen, then to the audience who continued clapping.

“That, m’moiselle,” Charles said under his breath. “Was either the most ridiculously stupid thing I have ever seen. Or the bravest.” And then he flashed those baby blues my way, and I glimpsed the tiniest gleam of approval before he turned and walked away.