Chapter Eighteen

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     Eulalie wanted to cry thinking about the path that lay ahead, but she remained strong for her daughter. She changed out of her ballgown into a peasant's dress that Elisabetta had made for her. She put a thick, dark cloak over her ensemble and attached a sling to put Navira in on her back.

     In her quiet padded slippers, she carefully crept out of her chambers and made for the hall.

     She heard footsteps approaching, and she ducked behind a column that was consumed in shadow. She saw the silhouette of her mother-in-law pass in front of her, and she nearly had the hall all to herself when Navira's voice cooed in the darkness.

     "Who goes there?" Violet asked, turning towards Eulalie's spot behind the column. Eulalie was hoping that the child would quiet and Violet would just go on her merry way, but Navira, in a show of excellent timing, decided to continue babbling to herself from her spot on her mother's back.

     "Violet?" The Queen-Mother asked. Eulalie rolled her eyes at the use of that name. She came out from behind the pillar to a very-shocked elder Violet.

     "Eulalie, what are you doing here? And what are you wearing?" She looked Eulalie up and down and wrinkled her nose at her peasant clothes.

     Eulalie remained silent and undeterred. "I don't want to have to hurt you. I'm leaving, Violet. Tell no one that you saw me," she commanded in her most intimidating voice.

     "Excuse me?" Violet's forehead wrinkled in confusion.

     Eulalie remembered what her father had taught her about brandishing a knife, and she grabbed the pocket knife with the bone hilt from her pocket and held it alongside her mother-in-law's neck. "Don't test me. Allow me to leave quietly, and it will be like I was never here."

     Realization sunk into Violet's dark, cunning eyes as she finally realized what Eulalie was up to. "As much as it would please me to see you gone," she said sinisterly, "it would make me even happier to watch you as your plans for your own happiness crash around you."

     As Eulalie was processing what she said, she tore herself from Eulalie's grip and sprinted back down the steps, her skirts held up with her hands.

     Eulalie couldn't sit there and wait for the palace guards to find her. Her plan had to go on as she had planned before. She tore down the back staircase and made for the stables, where a concerned Elisabetta was waiting.

     "What took you so long?" She asked as she helped her Queen onto Albertine's back. Both Albertine and Elisabetta's stolen horse were loaded with sacks of food, supplies, and valuables to be sold off at a later date.

     "We may have company in a moment. We need to make haste," Eulalie warned as she quickly secured herself and Navira onto Albertine's sturdy back.

     Elisabetta muttered a serious of Naviran curses as she did the same. The ladies secured their hoods to the crowns of their heads and pushed their horses into a sprinting gallop from the stables.

     She looked behind them, towards the vast windows that offered glimpses of the partygoers in the ballroom within. Somewhere in there, Alaric must be dancing and enjoying his evening, oblivious to the plot unfurling outside. Or perhaps, Violet had already made her way to the ballroom and alerted Alaric and the guards to Eulalie's escape. 

     "Eulalie!" A voice screamed from behind her that she recognized in an instant. For a brief moment, she pushed Albertine to come to a stop and she looked behind her. Alaric, in all of his finery from the evening's festivities, was standing alone on the piazza, beckoning her with outstretched arms to return to the palace.

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