Chapter 6

“Ohhhh, gracious, that was just the most amazing thing I have ever seen or heard!” A girl who looked to be about my age ran over to me and grabbed my hand. Her excitement had her bouncing on her heels, with her wavy blonde hair keeping time to her movements.

“When you started banging the king’s goblet around on the table I thought I was going to faint straightaway.” She placed her other hand over her heart as if she were about to swoon. Or at least, that’s what the Southern Belles in “Gone With the Wind” looked like when they were about to swoon.

“My name is Nicole Clermont. Come, I’ll introduce you around.” Just like that she turned and tugged my hand after her and I had no choice but to follow. We paraded around the room while she introduced me to the other women standing about, whose names and faces all became a blur. Thank goodness I don’t have to remember all these names, I thought. I kept my eyes out for a glimpse of my parents, thinking as soon as I found them, I could make my escape from this crazy 16th century reenactment. I mean, these people took their jobs seriously. I wonder where they found them all. And did they tell them not to bathe for a week or something to make it more legit? The body odor emanating from some was a bit much for such a crowded room. Then again, this was France after all. Public transportation alone could attest to the French aversion to antiperspirant.

We had been standing in a group of gossiping ladies-in-waiting, which I was only half listening to. I was aware of Charles, oh pardon me, Prince Charles as he moved about the room. A beautiful girl hung on his arm. Perfectly curled golden ringlets, creamy unblemished skin, and the most gorgeous dress in the room, save the queen herself. A beatific smile showed a row of shiny pearly whites, but her eyes gave her away. They had the look of every typical, most-popular, mean girl: cruel and calculating.

“Who is she?” I asked Nicole, motioning with a slight nod of my head. She seemed to be the one girl at court I hadn’t been introduced to.

“Oh, her.” Nicole whispered with a note of disdain. The circle of girls we were with gathered closer so as not to miss out. “That’s Genevieve Touraine. She has her claws sunk so deep into Prince Charles he couldn’t get away if he tried. Watch out, she bites!” The girls all giggled and launched into stories of mysterious things happening to girls who even so much as looked at Prince Charles. They were fantastic stories. They spoke as if people really did poison each other on a daily basis, and leave rodents in unsuspecting victims beds. Where did they come up with these stories? Was there a script somewhere? I was going to have to step up my game in pretend-land. Especially considering my parents were still a no-show and I had no idea how I was going to get back to our rented apartment on my own in this crazy costume. Not to mention, it was dark out there and I already knew my iPhone battery was dead. I had discreetly sneaked a peek at it again, hoping for a text message from my mom, or Alex, or well, anyone! But the screen refused to light up. Just as I thought about checking again, I felt someone tug my right elbow.

“ ‘Scuse, mademoiselle. If I may, I’d like to make your acquaintance.” I turned to see the Leonardo da Vinci look-alike. He looked so genuine, I loved it.

“Signor,” I turned and curtsied his way. “The pleasure is all mine. For you must be Signor da Vinci.” I said in flawless Italian, just to see if the actor could hold his own in that language. He smiled and took my right hand, bestowing a dry kiss on it. He had a twinkle in his eye and his smile was infectious. I found myself smiling right back at him.

“That I am, signorina, at your service.” He answered in Italian and nodded his head my way. “I rather enjoyed your performance this evening. Very inventive, producing a rhythmic tone with a goblet alone. I do hope we will have the pleasure of hearing more of this enchanting talent here at court. Why, I haven’t been so entertained in quite sometime.”

Wow. OK, fake da Vinci or not, it was pretty cool to even think that I was being complimented by Leonardo da Vinci. Seriously, that’s gotta be worth a few hundred likes on a YouTube video in my book.

“Why thank you,” I answered him, feeling a slight blush in my cheeks. Darn Celtic skin. “I would, of course, be honored if their Majesties would allow me to stay and continue to entertain the court.” Alrighty, might as well keep up the charade. I wasn’t sure what else to do.

“Magnifico!” Da Vinci exclaimed. I smiled back at him and saw Charles looking in our direction; looking none too pleased, I should note. “Ah, Charles. Just the person we need.” He motioned Charles over to our little group. “Could you please have a room readied for Signorina Isabelle? And perhaps you can show her the music room as well. She has agreed to continue in our company.” For all that da Vinci looked pleased with this statement, Charles looked like he’d just popped in a mouthful of Sour Patch Kids.

“As you wish,” Charles replied through his teeth and gave da Vinci a curt bow in his direction. He then grabbed my arm and began walking away. Genevieve made as if to follow, but Leonardo effectively turned her, gesturing toward something in the opposite direction, and led her away. None too happily, I’d say. I saw Nicole give me a wave and mouth something to the effect of “I’ll find you tomorrow.” And then it was just me and the ever-charming Charles.

I yanked my arm out of his grasp. “You don’t need to hold on to me so hard, you know.” I had to rub the spot where his grip had been. Geez, it hurt.

“My apologies, m’moiselle.” He kept his arms to his sides, but I noticed his hands were balled into fists. “You may have won the good graces of everyone else at court, but remember, I’m the one who found you sneaking about my private quarters. I have not yet found reason to trust you. Nor to believe who you say you are.”

“Blah, blah, blah. Whatever. You’re like a broken record, you know that? Lighten up a bit. Who else would I be?”

“You see? That there. I hear French, but do not understand these words you speak. Something about you does not add up. Until I find out why, I will be watching you.”

OK, creepy much?

“I’m beginning to see why this is a good gig for you. You must be one of those professional stalkers or something. Never mind. I won’t be here long. And I sure don’t want to be the one to see your watchdog Genevieve’s claws come out.” A shiver ran down my spine just thinking about poisons. And rats. Ick. No, I’d much rather stay off her radar thank you very much.

“Claws?” He stopped walking to look at me.

“Yeah, you know.” I curled my fingers and tried to make a face like a mean cat, slashing my hands in the air like claws. “Grrrrrrrr.”

Ha! His mouth twitched, I saw that. Then he was all back to business, briskly stepping down the corridor again.

We turned this way and that, until I was sure I would be thoroughly lost. We went up a flight of stairs, and he threw open a huge wooden door. Taking a lighted torch from the sconce on the wall outside the room, he led the way in, lighting a few ready torches as he went. I looked around the room and gasped in awe. I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life. How had I missed this room on the tour of the castle?

The walls had high arches, all with inlaid wood. There were portraits hanging within the arches, depicting the royal family, I assumed. There were three arched windows on one wall, beyond which I could see the night sky twinkling with stars. The floor was, again, an intricate pattern of inlaid wood, forming diamonds across the room. In the middle there was a gorgeous rug; with deep reds, blues, and greens, and flowers so real looking I could imagine their scent filling the room. Placed all about the room was furniture of various shapes and sizes; mostly chairs and double chairs, all with cushions for comfort. I looked up at the domed ceiling, thinking it strange that no light fixtures had been placed up there. Maybe they were trying to keep it as authentic as possible. It was a shame though. I would have liked to see the paintings on the ceiling better. But even the beauty of the room paled by comparison to the instruments it held within. In one corner, a harp stood majestically. In another was what looked to be a harpsichord, or early version of a piano. A shelf along one wall held stringed instruments of every sort. They all looked strangely bizarre, yet familiar at the same time. I didn’t see a guitar, for instance, but there was an instrument that looked very much like one. I would have to brush up on musical instruments in the 16th century to find out what they all were. Where was Siri when you needed her?

Charles stood and watched me as I wandered around the room in awe. Trailing a hand across the strings of the harp, touching each instrument with a reverence only someone with a musical background could have. They were beautiful. My fingers itched to play them all. Finally, I looked up at the imposing figure, still holding a torch in the center of the room to cast light as I took my tour.

“This room is beyond beautiful.” I told him. “I’ve never seen it before, or one like it. If it had a comfy couch in here, I think I could live in it forever.”

“I’m sure the king will be pleased to hear his music room meets with your approval.” He turned toward the door as if he were ready to go. What? I just got here.

“Wait!” Thankfully, he’d stopped in his tracks and looked back at me. “Please, may I play just one?”

Part of me was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to curl up in a bed. I had no idea what time it was, but it felt like I’d been up for hours. Yet the other part of me needed to find the comfort and solace I could only get from music. All the worry about the curious disappearance of my parents, and everyone else I had spent time with at the ball earlier, was stressing me out. I needed a dose of music. Gesturing toward the stringed instruments with my hand, I walked over and gently lifted up the one I thought looked most like a guitar.

I’d seen them before in history books. They were actually precursors of the guitar, which was eventually made by the Spanish. This one, however, was called a lute, if my memory was correct. I carefully turned it over in my hands, examining the workmanship. Wow, it looked like it was new. Which would be impossible, right? It was made of wood like a guitar, but the body was pear-shaped and rounded in the back. It had six strings, but I couldn’t tell what they were made out of. The neck wasn’t as long as it was on a guitar, and the most peculiar detail was the headstock where the tuners were, which was bent backward. Not sure why. I looked up at Charles waiting for his consent to play; not that I believed for one minute that he owned any of this stuff. But, yep, there he went with a nod in my direction. So I sat down and picked at the strings, tuning them by ear.

Ahhhh, it felt so good to hold a guitar-like instrument in my hands again. It sounded a little different, but nothing I couldn’t deal with. The curved back wasn’t as comfortable against my stomach, but it had a beautiful tone. I started picking a song and humming to myself. Closing my eyes, I was soon lost in my own world. Gone was 16th-century France. Gone was this chilly, damp, dark castle. Gone were the blue eyes staring at me. In my mind, I saw my home, my parents, my friends. In my arms I held my own guitar, fingers picking a song as familiar as my own. Funny. When a girl wants comfort, she turns to Taylor Swift. I had done so unknowingly, this time picking out her song with Ed Sheeran, “Everything Has Changed.”

I sang the last verse and thought it very fitting for my circumstance at this moment. Things had changed for sure, it seemed. As I strummed the last chord, I looked up to see the prince sitting right across from me, eyes staring deep into my own. Whoa, is it just me or did the temperature in this room suddenly skyrocket? I had no idea what he was thinking, but I had to tear my gaze away from his. It totally unnerved me. I made to get up and put the lute back in its place, just to hide the sudden butterflies jumping around inside me. But he jumped up as well and helped me up by the elbow, gently taking the lute from my hands. Our fingertips brushed and sent a shock right down to the fluttering going on inside, causing pandemonium. What the heck? I needed to get out of there before he noticed the ever-increasing blush creeping up my face. This was crazy. I have a boyfriend, I have a boyfriend, I have a boyfriend. Well sort of. What was his name? Ugh.

“Your voice is enchanting, m’moiselle,” he complimented, coming up behind me to escort me out of the room. He covered the torches to put them out as we went. Picking up a candle that he must have lit at some point, he motioned to the door. Thankfully the candle didn’t provide as much light, so the blush on my face wouldn’t be so evident. At least I hoped.

“Er, thank you,” I answered.

We walked quietly once again along the corridor. This far away from the king’s main hall, it seemed as if we were the only ones in the castle. The silence between us was heavy, like we should be talking about something, but I had no idea what. He stopped in front of another door and pushed it open, standing aside to allow me to go in. The room was bathed in moonlight and everything looked silver, though I think it was all light blue and white. He went to the fireplace and stirred up a fire in the grate. I hadn’t noticed when I walked in, but it was kind of chilly. The room had chairs by the fireplace, a dressing table, a stand with a bowl and pitcher, and a canopied bed, again, draped in fabric. I hadn’t noticed how tired I was until I saw that bed. All I could think about was wrapping up in those covers and closing my eyes.

“I hope the room is sufficient for your needs,” Charles said after building up the fire.

“Yes, I’m sure it will be.” I replied.

“I will send up a maid to help you undress.”

Uh, maid? To undress me? There goes the blush again.

“No, that’s fine,” I said quickly, “I’m sure I can manage for the night.” Anyway, it was probably just a line. I mean, who still had maids help them undress? “I’m so tired I’ll be asleep before anyone gets here,” I added.

He nodded and handed me the candle. “Then I shall bid you good night.” He said, bowing. He straightened and walked to the door.

“Uh, Prince Charles?” I asked, just as he reached for the door.

“Yes?”

“So you believe now that I am what I say I am? A musician?”

“Yes, you have proved yourself in that regard, m’moiselle,” he admitted. “However, whether or not you are also a spy remains to be seen.” And then he slipped out the door, closing it tightly behind him.

I let out a breath I was unaware that I’d been holding. Somehow, I felt deep in my bones that indeed, since the day before, something certainly had changed.