Constance had not been sure whether Sacha's words had been true, but it seemed he wasn't the only one to have heard such rumours. People were beginning to open up the window shutters or step out onto the streets for the first time in days to observe the goings on around them; so much so that they became caught up in a crowd at a market square. Constance didn't dare speak to the lawyer though, lest she give him away. They trudged on in silence, Estevan and Manuel only leaving them again as they reached the gates of the Châtelet. Only two armed men accompanied them and as they hurried down a flight of steps into the gloom of the old prison and rounded a corner, Sacha suddenly acted. From nowhere he produced two pistols and killed the two Spaniards before Constance had time to take stock of what was going on.
He turned to hand her a pistol and Constance closely observed his face for the first time that day. She could see the devastation in his eyes close at hand and knew then that he was aware of Claude's death. She was glad that she was not to be the one to tell him, for she was barely holding it together for herself. She could comfort him though and she did, placing a gentle hand over his and squeezing. Sacha gave her a small conflicted smile that did not reach his eyes and Amorette felt her own tears falling. She put her arms around the lawyer briefly and felt his whole body shuddering as he tried to supress his sobs.
"Madame we need to move from here, someone will have heard those shots!"
Constance pulled away and accepted the shot and powder that he hurriedly dispensed into the pistol he had given her and then they made their way ever so slowly through the dank corridors of the prison. She tried to keep her mind from wandering to the inhabitants of the cells they passed, sure that her own husband would have had a hand in arresting a lot of them. Constance's trepidation began to rise as they rounded corner after corner and met no one. There were no Spaniards to be found until they reached the corridor where she knew the musketeers were being held. As they rounded the corner, the bodies of the Spanish men littering the floor and the empty cell told Constance all that she needed to know. The musketeers had found their own way out.
Sacha was shaking his head knowingly. "I should have known," he whispered. "I was at the Hotel de Ville when all of the commotion broke out three days ago. I and some other lawyers were barricaded in the buildings surrounding it; but not out of choice. The stewards there would not let any of us leave no matter how hard we tried. Perhaps if I had been able to..."
Amorette saw his eyes glaze over as his mind wandered. "Sacha don't think on it," she said gently. "There was nothing that anyone could have done. Claude was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Come to think of it, how did you come to know what happened?"
Sacha seemed to recover himself a little and nodded to her. "Sorry, I keep losing track of thought. From the building I was being held in I saw you all being led here and Claude was not among you, so I managed to find a way out of the Hotel de Ville. My first thought was to see if I could help any of you but this place was too heavily guarded. I went to the Palace and it seems that when they left, they only had a skeleton guard watching over the courtiers there. Buckingham had riled them up and taken back most of the Louvre. He told me what he knew, and told me about Claude...He said most of the Spanish had gone out into the streets in search of the King and Queen; not believing that they would leave the city behind so easily."
"The Spanish have more faith in our King than we do right now," Constance mused.
"Their faith is ill founded then," he said solemnly. "Paris is still under the siege of the Spanish. I know the Louvre is in safe hands for the moment but all the Spanish would have to do is round up their men and take it back. Perhaps I should have come here first, but when I saw you and the Cometess being led from here I followed in the hopes that the musketeers would take care of themselves and it appears I was right to think so. I did not think I should be lucky enough to get the chance to free you all. Even so it backfired. Amorette is still in their clutches. I had hoped to free both of you."
Constance's heart almost broke at the sight of his crestfallen face. "Sacha, you did what you could which is a far sight more than would be expected of you given the situation. You got me out! I do not think that Casales man will be willing to let Amorette out of his sight and to try and intervene might have caused your own death. We need to find the musketeers and perhaps they can think of something."
"Where would they go though? They can't have got out in enough time to follow us because we'd know about it."
Constance shrugged. "The Palace perhaps? That would be the best place for them to start I think since they did not know where Amorette and I were taken."
The gates of the Palace loomed large and ominous before Constance and Sacha and the group of Red Guards that they had come across in the streets as they made their way to the Louvre. The gates were manned by Red Guards and musketeers alike, some bearing the injuries and wounds of the fight to regain the Palace. Once through the gates and assured that the Palace certainly was back in the right hands for the time being, Constance felt a little more confident in her steps. She and Sacha hurried along the winding lane that was lined on both sides by dense trees and eventually came to a halt at the bottom of the Jardin des Tuileries. The Palace looked serene in what was now mid-morning sunlight, peaceful and calm, and not what it had been just a day earlier. There was movement at many windows, courtiers and soldiers alike watching the grounds of the Palace carefully for someone who shouldn't be there. Then she saw him, standing at the top of the steps with his two friends and Constance broke into a run, leaving Sacha to wander at a much slower pace.
She took the stairs two at a time and flew into D'artagnan's arms. She let out a sob as he lifted her off her feet, cradling her to him as if he had thought he would never see her again. Placing her back onto her own two feet he took her face in both of his hands. "Are you alright, are you hurt?"
Constance shook her head as the tears fell, creating streaks in the dirt that covered her face. "I'm fine but... Athos I'm sorry," she cried as she turned to him. "I didn't want to leave her but we had no choice. Sacha came and they sent me back to the Châtelet with him but I do not think Casales has any intention of letting Amorette out of his sight! They would not have let me stay with her, I was pushed out of the door and..."
Athos placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "You were right to do as they bid Constance. We do not know what they would have done if you had gone against them. But where did they take you? Where is Amorette now?"
"The merchant's guild buildings on..." Amorette scratched her forehead. "What street is that on Sacha, I can't think straight?"
"Rue du Grand Heuleu..." Sacha confirmed as he sat down upon the top step and placed his head in his hands. His grief was finally catching up with him and he appeared entirely worn out. D'artagnan crouched beside him and held out a hand for Sacha to shake.
"You brought her back to me, at the risk of your own self and I cannot think of words to thank you or to tell you how sorry I am for your loss. That you put my wife's safety ahead of your own well-founded misery is commendable. I will never forget that, I doubt any of us will."
Sacha nodded, too overcome to speak and wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. Athos was conflicted. He knew what the young lawyer felt in that moment, even though he did not wish to return to those feelings of so many years ago when he had been forced to pass judgement upon his own wife and order her execution. Those were darker days that were no longer a part of who he was; and all because of Amorette. Now though, he might be about to lose her too. He crouched on Sacha's other side and laid a hand on the man's shoulder.
"She's inside, if you'd like to see her."
Sacha raised his head out of his hands to gaze at Athos and the musketeer saw the war going on within Sacha's mind. "What do you think I should do. Will it be worse for me to see her, perhaps I should remember her as she was?"
"It is entirely your choice Monsieur, but consider that it may be closure. You have a child to think of, after all."
Sacha nodded his agreement. "I understand your meaning."
Athos wondered if the lawyer really did understand. He had spent years without closure after he wrongly believed that Milady de Winter was gone from the world and even when he had discovered that she had not died that day, he had further chastised himself. How different things might have been if he had not been so eager to leave that day; if he had stayed to watch the deed done.
"How did you all get away?" Constance asked Porthos.
He gave a hollow chuckle that held none of his usual mischievous humour. "Picked a fight. These two attacked me, made out they blamed me for us all getting caught in the first place. The Spanish rushed in to try and prise us apart and we clobbered them. It was rather simple really."
"Athos, what do you want to do?" D'artagnan asked after a few minutes. "If you're going in search of Amorette you should not go alone."
"Then one of us should stay here to help in securing the Palace," Porthos added as an afterthought. "I've got the feeling that this isn't over yet. It wouldn't take much man power to take back the Palace."
"No one is going anywhere alone!" A familiar voice called suddenly from the bottom of the steps. They all turned in unison to glimpse Aramis taking the steps two at a time until he reached them. In his hand, they could all clearly see the King's seal.
"The King is returned then?" D'artagnan questioned hopefully.
Aramis' forlorn expression told them that the King had indeed not returned to Paris. "The King remains in Versailles, but the Queen returns at the head of a country army in his stead. I rode ahead to find you all and bring you the news...talking of country, where's the Cometess?" he asked abruptly. Porthos gave a minute shake of the head and Aramis' hopeful expression fell. "She made it back to Paris though?"
"She did," Constance confirmed. Taking Aramis' arm she began to lead him away and D'artagnan followed. Together they began to explain everything to him as Sacha slowly began to get to his feet again and fixed Athos with a curious gaze. "Athos if you are going in search of Amorette I would like to accompany you. I would like to help. I cannot just remain idle. I need to do something."
Athos understood the lawyer's need of action in his time of grief, but he did not yet know how he himself was going to retrieve Amorette from Garcia Casales' clutches. The testimony of his friends led him to believe that certainly this time Casales would more than likely kill Amorette before anyone else could lay hands on her.
Porthos clapped him on the shoulder roughly. "We need to think carefully about this Athos. Constance was sent back because she's of no use to Casales now. Amorette gave up the information that she had. When the Queen does return to Paris, the fact that Amorette knows where she was hiding will be a moot point. If Casales believes he has no more use for Amorette after such an occurrence... well you know where I'm going with this. She was left alone with him Athos. Those two Medici brothers were trying to persuade him not to hurt her a few days ago but without them, who knows what he will do."
"Do you think I haven't considered all of this?" Athos snapped as he turned away from his friend, unable to look into Porthos' eyes and see the pity and sympathy there.
"All I'm saying is that you should prepare yourself. We know she's not the cowardly type. She gives as good as she gets and whilst we admire such qualities in a woman the right way, other men will not. If she lives, she'll likely have been mistreated in every way imaginable. Hell, if any of us live through this..."
"Do you think that I have any other thoughts coursing through my mind right now?" Athos replied tersely. "I can't think of anything else; so much so that I don't know how I am to help her!"
"You need men, and quite a few of them. Take Casales out straight away and leave no room for error, that's the only way. Wait for the Queen-"
"We don't have time Porthos!"
"You don't have any other choice! Wait for the Queen to return. Treville will be with her and we can decide what to do for the best then. You go in alone; you'll only make things worse for her. He'll kill you and her."
————————————————————————————
Amorette knew that she had been violated as soon as she woke. Not for the first time in the last few days, a searing pain to the side of her head had her sucking in a breath as she tried to open her eyes. Even before she had looked around her, the still calmness of the room told her that she was completely alone. She was still lying atop the table, with her skirts bunched up around her waist. A dull ache between her legs told her exactly what had happened whilst she had been unconscious, but how long had she been unconscious for, and how many men had come and gone from the room.
She forced down the bile that rose into her mouth and shook her head a little, trying to banish those thoughts as she immediately began to think of how she could get out. She groaned as she tried to sit up, feeling the biting pains on her thighs were someone had held her down; moved her unconscious form to do their bidding. She ignored the way her hands shook uncontrollably as she glimpsed the very clear bruises of hand imprints upon her legs and she forced her skirts back down so that she did not have to see them.
Her legs were very unstable and Amorette was surprised that they held her weight as she finally placed her feet on the ground and slid off the table. She immediately moved towards the door and tugged on the handle. It was locked of course, but her hand slid from the door handle rather too easily and Amorette stared down at the now drying coating of blood upon her pale skin. The sleeve of one arm had been torn open and someone had cut into her arm viciously. She briefly wondered what the purpose of that had been, before her mind wandered to other places that they might have cut her. She tried to take stock of all of the pain that she could feel, noting that her ankle did not twinge just as painfully as before, but she could not ascertain anything else. She gave the door handle one more rattle before retreating back into the room towards the window.
She could not see her reflection there, owing to the fact her skin was so pale. It was only the darker anomalies that she could see there, like her eyebrows and eyelashes; and the dried blood that had escaped her nose. She let her eyes wander downwards, noting a few nicks from a knife around her throat and a few along one side of her collarbone. Amorette shuddered suddenly as the fear, shame and desperation washed over her rapidly. She tried so hard to push it all down, because now was not the time for crying. She could cry later, when she had found a way out and all of this was over. It had to be over sometime. She had to believe she could get out; get out and see the ones that she loved again.
Casales was furious, that much Amorette could tell just by his tone of voice. He had recalled all of his men from across the city, and Amorette was in too much of a daze to count how many of them there were as they traipsed through the Paris streets towards the Palace again. The Spanish had lost many men over the course of the last few days and as if that weren't enough, the Medici boys had returned to Casales to inform him that the Queen had returned at the head of an army. The Spanish could not win, not now that the Louvre Palace was back in the hands of the French. All strategy and leverage was lost to him with the death of Henry Fitzgerald and the Knowledge that Marie was nowhere to be found. He had believed her story, that Amorette knew as she trudged on, held on either side by a Spaniard.
That was why he had been so angry with her, and so frustrated. That was why he had raped her. He had lost control entirely, and perhaps that had been his only one foreseeable way to gain control in that moment. It had not had anything to do with lust and desire or gratification. No, it had been to teach her a lesson in compliance and obedience. It had also served to prove to him that he had the ultimate control, but as soon as the ordeal had been over, that control was lost to him again. There was very little that he was in control of any more apart from the spectacle he would give those at the Palace.
He could not hope to win a battle against the Paris court when combined with the Army that the Queen had mustered, but still he did not turn and run as Amorette would have expected him to do. She had not questioned such a choice though, as she could not even bring herself to look at him. The sound of his voice was enough to grate against her already fragile nerves and it took all of her concentration to place on foot in front of the other.
They approached the back gates of the Palace on the Rue de L'Amiral de Coligny where they met no one. The gates led straight through a long archway and out into the central courtyard of the Louvre. There was no one at any of the windows that Amorette could see and she felt a sudden worry that what Sacha had told Casales had been lies. Perhaps no one had taken back the Louvre and it was still in Spanish hands. Perhaps his luck had not run out after all. Had his men even seen the Queen? Even if they had, why would she return to the Palace when that was the most dangerous place for her in all of Paris.
A chill crept up Amorette's spine as they continued to walk until they were free of the main part of the Louvre altogether and were facing the Palais des Tuileries. Wasn't that where Constance had waited for Amorette and the musketeers the day before? Perhaps even if the Palace had not been recovered, they still had access to and use of those rooms.
They moved on, out into the Jardin des Tuileries and still nothing stopped them and no one moved. Surely if there were anyone in the Palace, they'd have fired shots at the large body of men who walked the grounds as if they owned them. They came to a halt on the gravel walkway a few yards from the wall of the Palace and Casales turned to stare up at the imposing and grand building, shading his eyes from the light with a hand upon his forehead.
"I think we have presented them a good enough view, don't you think?" he asked Estevan and Manuel. Amorette had the sickening realisation that something horrible was about to happen to her then. They had brought her here with them as a reason, to make an example out of her.
"Not a movement in sight," Estevan muttered to his adoptive father and Garcia Casales grinned.
"We shall see what happens when we kill one of their own..." Garcia muttered and he turned to Amorette for the first time since she had woken. Amorette shrank backwards as he drew near her but unseen hands propelled her forwards again so that he could look down upon her closely. He smirked as he watched her eyes flicker between him and the windows of the Palace. he laid his hands upon her shoulders and pushed, forcing her down onto her knees and Amorette felt her courage waver entirely as an arm wound itself around her neck. She felt the cold press of steel against her skin and her tears began to flow unchecked. They were going to kill her right there in the gardens for everyone inside the Palace to see; that was if there was anyone left to see it. Her mind ran wild with all sorts, her heart beating furiously as her breath came in sobs. She told herself that at least it was a quick death, one slice across her throat and within seconds she would be unconscious. She would not feel pain or distress, only confusion before the blackness took her and then that would be it.
It was as she glanced back up to watch the movement of Casales in front of her that Amorette caught the slightest of movements at one of the windows on the ground floor. The windows had been smashed in that part of the Palace, so perhaps the wind had simply caught the drapes inside the room. No, Amorette was sure she had seen movement for she thought she caught it a second time out of the corner of her eye.
A set of doors slowly began to creek open and from there people flooded out onto the doorstep to gaze on at the scene before them. Amorette lowered her head, sure that everyone there would look upon her and know exactly how Casales had mistreated her. The thought of having to look into the eyes of one of her friends or Athos and tell them what happened terrified her even though she had decided in her head that they would know by just gazing upon her bedraggled form.
She felt the dagger press harder against her jugular vein and was sure this was the moment Casales was waiting for. She had not been devoutly religious at any point in her lifetime but in that moment, she found herself muttering prayers in haste, her hands sweating profusely as her whole body trembled in fear of what was to come.
Then there was a shrill screaming and the sound came rapidly closer. Amorette's head jerked up in time to witness Constance racing towards them along the gravel path and her heart shattered. She clamped her eyes shut, adamant that she would not watch the death of another friend, but no shot came. Manuel stepped forward and grabbed Constance, dragging her down to kneel beside Amorette who was now almost hysterical.
"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" D'artagnan was calling loudly from somewhere within the crowd of people and Amorette realised that Constance had scuppered their plan. Someone had been tasked with firing, and Constance was now in that line of fire.
"What are you doing?" Amorette cried to Constance as she felt her friend make a grab for her hand. Amorette's hand was slippery with sweat and blood and Constance could not catch a grip of it. Amorette struck out her hand towards her friend, letting the seamstress try again.
"Saving your life! I'm not leaving you like I did earlier Amorette!" Constance whispered. "I've lost Claude and I'm not losing you too!" Amorette shook her head as she continued to cry openly, both touched by her friend's words and terrified that her friend had chosen to die beside her.
"This is what happens when you cross Spain!" Garcia Casales roared to the crowd in the doorway and to those who now watched from windows. "This is now we treat those who would wish to tear us down! Let this be a lesson to you! Bring your Queen out so that she too may witness the death of her spy!"
Amorette felt the dagger press even harder into her skin and was sure it must have drawn blood by now. The man holding her moved closer, his chin almost resting on top of her head as he readied himself. Then all of a sudden, a shot fired. In the relative silence of the gardens, the sound was loud and overpowering. Amorette felt herself shudder as the musket went off and a split second later, Garcia Casales collapsed into the gravel, a musket ball embedded in his head. The shot had to have come from higher up and Amorette let her eyes ghost over the windows on the upper floors of the Palace as she looked for Aramis who was the best marksman she had ever met. She saw nothing though as pandemonium set in around her. Some of the Spanish men scrambled, their faith dying with Casales but others began to jeer and roar in their anger. Amorette couldn't hope to live much longer with such ill-feeling around her.
The crowd of musketeers, Red Guards and courtiers in the doorway of the Palace was moving though, rushing towards the Spanish and Amorette wondered how on earth they all hoped to survive for they were still outnumbered. At the head of the group was D'artagnan and Porthos, with the Duke of Buckingham brandishing his sword. Manuel and Estevan were the first to charge forward to engage them, anger at the death of their adoptive father clear in their agonised faces. Constance too was moving now that Manuel no longer held her. Brandishing her own knife, the seamstress plunged it into the side of the man who held Amorette without a second thought and dragged Amorette to her feet.
It was clear to Amorette then that it had all been part of the plan. Constance had been a diversion, and so had D'artagnan's pleading with whoever the shooter was. They had wanted Casales to think they would not shoot as Constance was in the firing line, when in reality she had her own weapons about her and was ready to pounce. Amorette did not know how she was managing to stand upright until she realised that Constance held her with one arm, the hand holding the knife held out defensively.
That alone would not keep them alive though. The sound of thundering horses from the other end of the gardens came to Amorette's ears and she glanced over her shoulder to witness a heavily pregnant Queen astride her horse, leading an army alongside the Vicomte de Turenne, Captain Treville and Aramis. Never before had Amorette seen such determination, such defiance in the Queen's eyes. She needed no one any more. There would be no need for spies and schemes for the Queen was no longer what resembled a petulant child at times. She was a hard and incorrigible woman.
A Spaniard flew at them from nowhere, his eyes alight with fear more than anything else and thrust his sword at them. Constance parried the blow with her own dagger but both women knew that would not be enough to stop the man. Just as he swung again, the sound of steel hitting steel addled their brains. The Vicomte de Turenne had thrown himself in front of Amorette and Constance. He fought the man off easily and stood before them protectively, but the Queen's mustered army was making quick work of the Spanish.
A hand closed itself around Amorette's arm and she squealed, pulling frightfully away from the touch that she did not know. The Vicomte turned toward her, readying himself to fight off another Spaniard but confusion marred his features before he turned away again.
"Amorette, you're going to fall and take Madame D'artagnan with you! Allow me?"
Buckingham was at her side, an arm sliding around her waist to hold her up. "George?" Amorette whispered lightly, blinking through her tears to try and see her friend.
Constance relinquished her hold of Amorette just as another voice entered the fray, sending Amorette's head spinning. There were many times in her life when she had not wanted Athos to see her; not wanted him to look upon her but none of them compared to how she felt in that moment. She was repulsed at her own self as Buckingham turned towards Athos, taking her with him. His hair was flowing wildly and his shirt was slightly torn. He carried in one hand a musket only used for the likes of long range shots and Amorette instantly understood. Athos had taken the shot at Casales.
He was staring at her as if she might break into a thousand pieces if he approached, and Amorette didn't know in truth if she wouldn't. "Amorette?" She couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes even as he stepped closer.
She heard a rush of breath leaving his body and he suddenly growled "WHO?" When Amorette didn't answer he lifted her chin with one gentle finger until she had no choice but to gaze back at him. "Amorette answer me. Who?" he spoke in a much gentler tone the second time, but she could sense the anger radiating off him in waves.
Amorette shook her head gently. "I...don't know..." she answered truthfully; for she did not know. Casales had been the one to hit her, and hover over her as she faded from consciousness on that table but she did not know if he had been the one to rape her. She suspected that it was him above all others, but Amorette did not know how long she had been unconscious for, or who else Casales had allowed into the room to have their way with her.
Athos seemed to notice her revulsion in that moment, for his eyes left hers and he looked to Buckingham. "Take her inside. Get her away from all of this. Get her away from the Palace if you can."
Buckingham nodded stiffly. "My apartments in the Palais Royal," he called before he began to walk, half dragging, half carrying Amorette with him.
The apartment in the Palais Royal was bathed in late afternoon sunlight by the time Buckingham had managed to convey them there. The streets were still empty of people or carriages and he had taken a horse from the Palace stables to get them away as quickly as possible. He left Amorette soon after, promising he would be back as quickly as he could. Amorette closed her eyes and finally let all of the pain and shame envelope her as the silent bed chamber offered her the first real refuge in days. She was not aware of time, but when Buckingham returned he was not alone. A female voice accompanied his as he rushed upstairs to return to Amorette.
In seconds, Tilda was patting a damp cloth gently to Amorette's wounds and prying off the now tarnished and ruined dress that had once belonged to the Queen. Amorette cried silently all the while as her maid ever so gently siphoned off the blood. Tilda too was crying but there was a warmness in her eyes that Amorette suddenly never wanted to forget.
"I want to die," Amorette groaned as she felt the tiredness creep upon her again. Tilda was an intelligent young woman, and would know to look at Amorette what had occurred just that morning.
"Hush now, don't talk absolute nonsense!" Tilda scolded even as tears rolled down her own cheeks. "If you die, who will there be to teach me? Just think of all those little children you will have with that musketeer; and of how my sister and I will help you nurse them in that lovely country house of yours. Just think of how happy we will all be, out in the country, with your musketeer at your side and your children scampering around your feet. It's all ahead of you, and here you are wishing it all away."
Amorette felt such a rush of tenderness and love for the maid before her that she raised a tired arm and pulled Tilda into a stiff but warm embrace. "I've never told you how much I value...your friendship Tilda. I shall tell you every day! I did not tell my friend how much she meant to me and now she is gone. She never knew how I loved and appreciated her!"
"I'm sure she did Madame," Tilda said gently as she began to prise apart Amorette's corset. Amorette had never felt a sense of relief like it as when Tilda loosened the last lace and the corset fell apart around her. She felt her breasts drop a little as a gust of air flooded her lungs. Tilda threw a warm fur over Amorette almost instantly. "Now don't you dare fall asleep no matter how much you want to. I'm going to bring up the water for a bath and then you can sleep as much as you like."
Amorette did not know if she had the willpower to remain awake for long enough, but Buckingham must have helped Tilda carry up the hot water from the floor below as in no time the room was filled with the scented water. Amorette managed to stand again with the fur still wrapped tightly around her and Tilda nodded to her gently. "You want to be left alone? I'll be right on the other side of this door if you need me Madame."
Amorette waited until the door was firmly shut behind Tilda before she let the fur fall and gingerly moved towards the mirror. Her ankle was bruised, and her knees were red raw from kneeling on the gravel earlier. There were purple bruises all around her torso and cuts everywhere, but it was her face that appeared the most disturbing. Her hair was matted with her own blood, and there was a large bruise on the side of her forehead from where she had been hit countless times in the last few days. Most of the blood had been cleaned away from her face though, and she could clearly see where her nose had been broken. As she turned her head from side to side though, Amorette wasn't sure if the nose break wasn't actually an improvement. She had never taken much issue with her nose, but it did not seem to look too offensive to her now it was broken.
It was Amorette's eyes that haunted her. She gazed into the refection of them so hard that she suddenly felt a little dizzy. The only time she recalled her eyes looking anything akin to what they did in that moment was years ago, when she and Buckingham had spent many nights attending balls and parties in a row, so much so that Amorette had needed four days in bed to recover from the hangover. She supposed gloomily that it did not matter what she looked like now because no one would want to touch her ever again. She was damaged and tainted.
Unable to look at herself any longer, she turned back towards the bathtub and clambered in, letting out a low hiss as her skin made contact with the warm water. She forced her body into the water, knowing the relief it would bring her even for a short while, and she was asleep within minutes.
When she awoke again, the room was dimly lit by a few candles and she was on her side in bed. Tilda could not have lifted her from the bath herself and so Buckingham must have done so. He was not there though, there was only Tilda fussing with some things in a trunk. When her maid turned, Amorette offered her a small smile. Tilda returned it, but her gaze slid sideways as if she wanted Amorette to turn around in bed. She slowly and carefully began to move, very aware that she ached everywhere.
If any words had been about to escape, for a few seconds they caught in her mouth. "How...how lo...long have you been th...there?" she asked the musketeer who was sat in the armchair by the bed.
"Not long," Athos replied softly. "I'm afraid I cannot stay. I only came to see that you were alright."
"Tilda has been taking great care of me, so I'm fine. You? Are you alright?"
He dodged her question. "I need to get back. Treville will have need of us for quite some time I'd expect."
He leaned in to place a kiss upon Amorette's forehead and then he was gone. Normally such a thing would have instilled a panic in her younger self, but in that moment Amorette felt nothing but contentment. She knew he was not gone forever, for that was a foolish notion. She heartily regretted all of her earlier mutterings to Tilda already and couldn't believe she'd been so downtrodden, but perhaps it had been the tiredness talking.
She did not leave Buckingham's lodgings for over a full week, feeling such a sense of security and safety with her old friend and Tilda that she was slightly afraid of the outside world. The evenings were almost relentless torture as they were spent with Buckingham, going over everything that had happened to her. Buckingham yet again had shown the value of his friendship to her. He had struggled for the first few evenings, but mid-week he began to make progress in returning Amorette to her old self. He kept reminding her that whilst she had been raped, Amorette had been unconscious throughout and had no memory of it whatsoever, and likely never would have. Amorette did not want such memories anyway. He talked at length about how her body might have been taken, but her soul was still intact. No one could have her soul, because it was so very hers alone. Amorette agreed with him upon every aspect and knew that she needed to embrace such beliefs before she would be ready to return to her life again.
Something was holding her back though, and on the sixth day, her worries were finally resolved. Her monthly bleeds came, and Amorette wept tears of happiness for over an hour before Tilda returned to the apartments and fussed around her, thinking something was wrong. Amorette could not voice her sheer and utter relief that she was not with child. She was not carrying the child of Garcia Casales, or any other man that might have touched her. That day marked such a change in her mood. The next morning, she was dressed for the first time and Tilda arranged her hair and she ventured out into the Paris Streets.
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Paris was still recovering a month after it's attack. The streets were clean and alive again, and people had the good faith and cheer that they had always had, but there was some undercurrent that Amorette could not quite put her finger on, and she didn't want to. She was in a good place and was determined that nothing would disturb that. Only the departure of one of her oldest friends threatened to. She stood on the dock and watched as Buckingham's last trunks were loaded onto the ship and he jumped back down onto the Quay to say his farewells. Things in England were dire, and Buckingham was nothing if not patriotic. Many English had reached French shores in search of sanctuary and safety as civil war loomed ever closer in England. Buckingham was going home to fight, and Amorette was convinced she would never see him again.
"Do you really have to go?" she pleaded with him. "This all seems so final, as if we will not see each other again at all."
Buckingham smiled grimly and chose not to answer her question. Instead he produced from behind his back a set of pistols in their brace. Amorette's hand rose to cover her mouth in shock for she recognised them. "I must go, for I need to travel to Scotland to return these before I even think of meddling in English matters."
Amorette stared down at the pistols in wonder. "Where...?"
"I found the brace and one pistol in the Jardin des Tuileries," he said. "And I had recovered the other pistol from Henry's body after his death."
Amorette nodded as she recalled using the pistol brace to strap herself to a tree branch over a month ago to try and get some sleep. "And therein lies the true nature of George Villiers," Amorette commented dryly. "You really are a good man, to think of his family and how they would appreciate such a thing returned to them."
"What can I say," he shrugged. "We both had a love for the young Scottish man we knew all those years ago. It is those memories I chose to favour when I think of him from now on."
"George?" Amorette questioned suddenly as a thought came to her. "Did you...did you love Henry? I mean really love him? Not as a friend I mean, but as something more?"
Buckingham gave no reply and simply wrapped an arm around Amorette to draw her into a tight embrace. He kissed her cheek lightly as he finally pulled away and wiped the tears from Amorette's cheek. "I have no worry in leaving you, for I know you will be well looked after. Ever since we came back to Paris a few years ago you have had a tail watching over you, and now is no different."
"What?" Amorette asked as Buckingham nodded over her shoulder and sure enough, there he was; watching her. "George, I haven't spoken to him in over a month. You know that. Or rather he hasn't spoken to me. I've not seen him since that night, after it happened. Clearly he is not dealing with things as well as I am."
"Talk to him," called Buckingham as he turned on his heel and approached the side of the ship. "Tell him to get over it and if he can't then he doesn't deserve you. I would say come to England with me and I will get you a good man in one of my friends in an instant, but England is not a safe place right now!"
Amorette watched the ship go, feeling despair and loss as she knew in her heart of hearts that Buckingham would not return to France ever again. She turned towards the cobalt blue eyes that were assessing her from feet away, and approached him with all the confidence she could muster. He could feel it radiating off her, an exuberance of self-assurance that she never seemed to possess before. She had been painfully thin a month ago, but he could tell she had put on a little weight. Her complexion was brighter, her smile and eyes more alive. It was as if she was a different person. The dress and hat she wore were ostentatious to say the least but for once he appreciated that she had chosen it herself instead of wearing one of Buckingham's designs. In truth Athos had never seen her looking so well.
"Are you going to speak or are you just going to stare at me with your mouth hanging open?" she chuckled lightly as she stopped before him.
"You...you look ah...well," he spluttered.
"Thank-you," she replied cordially. "You look somewhat refreshed yourself."
"That is a surprise, for I do not feel it. There is still a clean-up operation place all around the city," he replied stiffly.
"I know," she said lightly. "I know you've been busy Athos. I know your time has not been your own but D'artagnan has still made time to see Constance. If you wish not to see me, then tell me for I am a grown woman. I can handle it and react much better to truth than lies."
"That is not the case and you know it!"
"Then why?" she asked, suddenly realising that she sounded a little needy.
"You needed time. I know you did. I would only have added to your problems. You needed to recover and recuperate without distractions. I did not want to push you before you were ready and have you resent me for it. That is why I have stayed away, not because my feelings have changed."
"Why did you not talk to me at least, and ask if that was what I wanted?"
Athos shrugged. "I thought that was what every woman needed?"
Amorette snorted. "I'm not every woman Athos. Those men are dead, and you had a hand in killing some of them. I'm not frightened, and I haven't given any of them a single thought! Granted, there was perhaps a week needed for myself, but as soon as my monthly bleeds arrived I was quite myself again. My one worry was over."
She saw him visibly sigh, and realised that he too had been fretting about the same thing. That was when she knew that everything that they had before was still there. He had been worried not for himself, but for her. He hadn't wanted more pain and suffering for her. "You're not with child?"
"No, I'm not."
He nodded then, a small smile forming on his lips. His eyes met hers and Amorette stepped forward a little as she got lost in the cobalt blue sea before her. She wanted to kiss him so badly in that moment, but he turned his head at the last minute. "He's gone for good then," Athos said with a jerk of his head towards where Buckingham's ship had been moored only a little while ago.
"Yes, he has and I shall miss him greatly," mused Amorette. "I've lost another one of my friends, you see that's why I need you so badly. I cannot lose anyone else."
"You do not need me Amorette, you're strong-"
"Don't tell me what I do and don't need Athos," Amorette cried as she pointed a finger at him. "There is something you need to understand. I need you more than I ever have. What do I have if I do not have you?" He did not know how to answer her at all, and so he remained silent. "Do you want me to tell you what I have? Right now, I have that man on top of me, that's what I have!"
"I thought you could not remember it..."
"I cannot because I was unconscious! Athos that does not stop my mind from imagining things! Every time I close my eyes I see it still!" Amorette shuddered at the thought. "You know very well how vivid my dreams are! For heaven's sake, I foresaw my own nearly death and it was only for the Spanish that Shauna fell from that bridge and not me! That's how my dreams work. Are you really going to leave me with all that for company? I need love and happiness and all that we had between us before because that is the only thing that drives out hate and destruction. I need you to show me what it is really like; what love and tenderness is really like! I need you to show me again! I need you!"
Her words certainly seemed to have swayed him for he stepped closer to her, his breathing erratic as his eyes flitted from her own blue orbs to her parted lips and back.
"You can kiss me you know," she whispered against his skin. "I won't shatter into a thousand pieces."
If she had expected him to be tender and gentle, she was entirely wrong. He kissed her so fiercely that Amorette was in no doubt that the month apart had been just as hard for him as it had for her. He pulled her against him so tightly that she could feel his arousal through her skirts and his heart thumping furiously in his chest. He began to move, dragging her as they still kissed into an alleyway and threw her back against a wall. He gave one questioning glance as if asking permission, lowering his head to kiss her neck when she gave him a smile of approval. His hands trailed over her stomach wrapped in corset and silks, travelled up her sides until he reached her breasts.
She grabbed one of his hands then and began to pull him along the alleyway, a heady sense of anticipation brewing between them both. "Yours or mine?"
"My rooms are closer," he replied darkly.
"Yours then."