Chapter 14: Lady

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Ysabeau stretched across her mattress, the once silvery glow of the full moon weak and dying from the days gone by. How she despised squeezing into the confounded torture chamber every night just to display herself like some overstuffed bird for all to feast upon. Then, to flaunt herself in every dance possible. How her feet and waist and legs ached!

As far as the underlying mystery . . . At first, she thought it flattering how Mathieu could not remove his sights from her, his ever ominous words of no-relation ever haunting. One day, Ysabeau thought with the tightening of her jaw, one day she would discover the truth. She glared at the gown stretched over her fainting chair against the far side of the wall beside the fireplace. For now, she must pretend sweetness and do every bidding Andrién demanded so as to stop every and any suspicion.

The time was at hand and she felt prepared enough to dance with every gentleman available, including the King himself. “Confidence,” Andrién had said with a grin, “is what lures them, makes them forgive any heavy-footed mishap, though I doubt you would have any of those.” Yes, he was referring to their secret of her nimble sure-footedness.

If only she could dance from table top to table top with a sword in each hand and no frothy gown about her ankles.

“Today,” he announced one morning, “will be your test. A test to see if your manhood is detected beneath the many layers of lace. Are you ready?”

Mathieu and Ysabeau shared a glance as their servants bustled about the table.

“Whatever do you mean?” She did not fancy the sound of his devilish voice.

“Marie will quickly assist in your ritual after our meal and—” a sharp pounding upon the door smothered his sentiment. “Ah.” A secretive sparkle lit his entire face. “Go, now and dress! Marie.” He nodded to the maid who materialized from nowhere.

Marie bobbed into her curtsy. “Come, mademoiselle.” She stepped aside, signaling Ysabeau to stand.

“Who is it?”

“I do not know, ma sœur, but I would not spend my time gawking to discover who you test out upon. Go!”

She indulged her favorite expression only reserved to annoy her brother [EM1] and darted up the steps with Marie trailing. After what seemed like an eternity, and after hearing boisterous laughter of several men, Ysabeau was ready, if at all.

“I do not expect to parade myself like chattel at a fair for inspection!” She halted at the doorframe when Marie opened it.

“But he wishes it,” Marie whispered, her head bowed, glancing up at her.

“Oh, see here, Marie, do not act so, so, servanty. We are familiar, you and I.”

“You are a lady, and deserve to be treated thusly.”

Ysabeau twisted her mouth and flickered her eyes to the ceiling. “My least favorite is going down the steps in this.”

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