Tulips

Chapter 28

It was a Tuesday afternoon; it was bright outside. The court had gathered for a party celebrating some old battle the French had won decades ago. Although she wasn't French and couldn't name the battle with a gun to her head, it was convention for the Queen to make a speech. And Adelaide was never one to disappoint. In the past year of friendship, Louis had given her a leg up into the court social circles and my word, hadn't she thrived. She stood now at the centre of a circle of gossip with the most prominent women in the Versailles mingle. They ruffled their extortionately decorated gowns like flamboyance of flamingos.

"I'm thinking of lining the West path with trees rather than bushes," her statement was met with approving murmurs.

"What type?" said one of her cohorts.

"Now that's the tricky part," Adelaide inhaled. "I was thinking pears, but I worry they'll be too unruly,"

"That part needs something to make Ait look less barren, I say go with pears,"

The rest of the group hummed in agreement.

"That's decided then. Plus, at the end of summer, we can all have lovely pears picked straight from the lawn. They're Louis' favourite you know."

"Oh, that's nice" they gulled.

"Louis!" Adelaide called, waving him over.

"Yes, dearest." he rolled his eyes, as he trotted to the group facetiously.

"You like pears don't you," she tilted her head towards him.

"Can't get enough of them," he widened his eyes jokingly. His charming smile gleamed.

"Good, I'm planting them on the West path,"

"Is that what you called me over for,"

"Yes," she nodded decidedly.

Louis sighed, "Here, try this," he held up a macaroon.

"Oooo" Adelaide said before taking a dainty bite from the biscuit. "mmmmmm," she responded in approval.

Louis smiled satisfied and walked back to his conversation a few strides away. Adelaide continued to talk with her friends, glancing back to meet his eye, a smile pushed itself across his face. They were friends, it was good that they were friends, friends are what they are. He is your friend. Friend. But my god is he handsome. Stop it, stop it, stop it. Adelaide and Louis are friends because that is what they are. But when he called me dearest, I could have just melted - but it was a joke. Oh, please let it stop, stop looking at me like that if you're not going to- oh shut up Adelaide, just leave it!

Adelaide stood in the middle of the room to hold a toast. She handed her glass to someone and cleared her throat. Her dress was light yellow, flowy. She looked young, she was young, and pretty, and everyone loved her. Commanding the room like she was supposed to do since she was born to do.

"Now. As our rowdy neighbours are stuck in their petty fights," she began. "We are still living prosperously. And they won't bring us into this cowardly war. Because we are far too powerful for them." She paused to hear the groups jolly cheering. Out of the corner of her she saw a man with icy blue eyes and light blond hair, shuffling to the middle of the crowd. His face was gruff, a stiff frown peaked from under a bushy moustache. "So, we are going to party, all through the day, all through the night" she continued. "Because we are French-" She heard a click, time froze. The first thing she saw was Louis pushing his way into the clearing between Adelaide and the rest of the court. His face didn't have time to express the frenzy that filled his head. The next thing she saw was the man, his cold eyes filled with intent, the barrel of a pistol lifted and pointed at her. She squeezed her eyes shut, a scream snagged in her throat, unable to materialize. A gunshot shuddered round the dance hall. Louis thudded onto the ground. The courtiers scattered towards the doors screaming.
"Louis!" Adelaide rocketed forward towards her husband who clutched at the top of his arm, face contorted in agony. The world swirled round her; the shouts of her fleeting peers seemed to melt into oblivion.

She was a few yards away from him when there was a second bang. Adelaide felt the impact of the hard wood floor, the air being forced out of her lungs. She gasped desperately. The ringing in her ears was met with the sound of her pounding heart. It took her a second to strangle back her bearings. Her head thudded as she skidded across the smooth ground towards her husband.

"Louis!" They shot him, I can't believe they shot him, how could they shoot him?

"Adelaide?" he groaned; his frame slumped on his back.

"I'm here," she placed her hands on his face. "You're going to be alright," she assured him, though her stomach churned at the words. His face, which was stark white and frantic, thawed into tender concern.

In this moment of agony, he saw Adelaide's scared eyes, the pain stepping aside for distress. What is this girl doing to me? A humorous thought in this of all time. "Get out of here," he pushed her shoulder with his free hand, leaving an imprint of bright red on the fabric. He grunted again; his arm right arm was bleeding hard. It had begun pooling on the floor. "Adelaide, I said leave!" he pleaded.

Adelaide turned to see the assassin running out of the hall, followed by two burly guards. "It's alright they're gone,"

Two men had now arrived and were picking the king up from the ground. She noticed a deep red patch on his shirt.

"Your chest is bleeding!" she cried, rising with him off the floor.

"No, it's not!" Louis yelled as he was carried away. His body hanging off his rescuers.

Adelaide stood shaking in the empty hall; her legs swayed beneath her. The sound of her breath pounded through her trembling body. She looked down to see the blood on her side. How hadn't she noticed? It didn't look real. It was if it she was looking at someone else, but it was her. It was her blood-stained lemon dress. Adelaide laughed as; he moved her hand to her abdomen. I've been shot. The absurdity. Suddenly she felt her consciousness slip out from under her as she crashed to the floor.