My back hits the ground, and despite the soft rug on the floor Lavernia's salon, the shock reverberates through my body. Destan pins my hands above my head. With one leg across mine, he pins me to the floor. Destan's hair falls in his face. His eyes are dark. Frustrated. "Come on, Florette. Are you even trying?"
I'm not quite sure how I ended up here. Dazed and slightly awed by Destan's unnatural speed, I try to recall how he swept my feet out from under me and took me to the floor. I struggle against him, but my efforts are in vain. I can't pull my wrist from his grasp. My legs are fully trapped beneath his weight and my ankles are tangled in the ludicrous volume of my skirts. "I am trying. It's this infernal dress. How am I supposed to fend off an attacker if I can't move."
"Your skirts are an advantage if you know how to use them," Destan says. "But what do you do now? The more you struggle like this, the more tired you're getting. How do you get out of this?"
"Destan, ease up," Lavernia says. She lounges on a teal blue chaise and watches us with amusement as she pops sugared fruit into her mouth. "She's had enough."
Lafayette and Hadrian watch on as well. Both look equally as amused.
"She needs to know how to escape an attacker if she wants to involve herself with the Order," Destan replies without diverting his eyes away from mine.
"I've got this," I say through gritted teeth. Fire flames deep in my belly and I attempt to twist a leg free.
Destan senses my movement and shifts his weight. "No. Think. Remember what I said about weak spots on the body."
"I remember," I growl. I just can't reach them with all my libs pinned down, but I run through the list again anyway. Groin. Instep. Joints. Neck. Ears. Eyes. Nose. My mobility is limited, but our faces are close together. I can feel the brush of his breath against my wild, disheveled hair.
"Use your head," Destan says, his frustration growing.
This is going to hurt. I throw my head towards him and aim for his nose. He pulls away with lightning speed, but his grip loosens on me. I twist a wrist free and throw my elbow into his. He tips off-balance and suddenly I have a leg free.
"Did she just try to break your nose?" Hadrian said over Lafayette's peaks of laughter
Destan sits back on his heels and I scramble away. "I didn't mean literally."
My movement is anything but graceful, but I'm free of him. I gasp for breath as my heart beats out of my chest and Destan looks thoroughly surprised.
"You didn't have to actually try and break my nose, "he says, and I think perhaps he's a little impressed. "You could have just told me what your next move would have been."
"No," Lavernia says. "You were asking for it, Destan."
Destan throws her a playful glare and hops to his feet as if this hasn't been even the slightest struggle for him. He offers me a kind hand as I can't really get up off the ground gracefully thanks to my corset. "Your skirts didn't trip you up. Your feet were too close together. If some grabs you, step one foot back and squat down. You'll be much harder to throw around that way," he says.
I step back and lower myself into the stance he showed me when we first began this training session. I raise my arms to protect myself, but my dress feels looser across my back. With a glance over my shoulder, I reach around and feel a rather large tear in the arm seam. "You ripped my dress."
Destan chuckles. "You'll thank me when what I've taught you saves your life and helps you escape an attacker."
"I think you've demonstrated your physical prowess enough for one day, Destan," Lavernia purrs. "It's my turn with the girl." She takes my arm and guides me to sit beside her on the chaise. Her fingers brush the tear in the peach satin at my shoulder. She tuts at Destan and shakes her head. "I'm sorry the boys roughed you up but espionage is about much more than scrapping and rolling about on the floor."
Lafayette takes the other seat beside me. "Above all else, you must use common sense."
"You'll need curiosity," Hadrian adds.
"And patience," Destan says.
"And you must be disarming," Lavernia says. "Likeable. Unthreatening. You need to gain people's trust so they will entrust you with their secrets. Do it well enough and they will spill them out before you even ask."
Embarrassment heats my face at the fact that they even have to tell me this. "Am I...unlikeable?" I ask hesitantly. I never felt like I fit in at court, but could I really be so unaware?
"Hardly," Lavernia replies. "I like you, but you're like an adorable fawn trying to use its legs for the first time. I want to take you under my wing, but I'm not going to trust you with a secret that might harm me."
"I see," I reply. "So how do I become this disarming, unthreatening spy."
"You must do a better job of assimilating to the culture of Versailles," Lavernia says.
That, I can agree to. I've felt out of place in this beautiful world since I arrived. "Where do I start?"
"I have taken the liberty of drawing up a list of all the rules of etiquette we can think of, but it is imperative that you learn the noble art of compliments," Lafayette says.
"Compliments?" I ask.
"Yes," he continues. "As you've probably surmised, the court of Versailles is full of nobles desperate for belonging and significance. They are so desperate to feel important that it's considered rude not to compliment someone at least once if you have a conversation with them. But, if you can pay someone a truly wonderful compliment, then you have won them to your side."
"But you must tread carefully," Lavernia cuts in. "You can't compliment appearance because you may be perceived wrong. The same goes for accomplishments. And you mustn't be too witty. Too few of the nobility have a mind for wit and you risk embarrassing them."
"So what can I compliment?"
"Manners, perhaps," Lavernia says. "Or just their comportment."
My mouth falls open in shock. "Is that all?"
"Yes. And you do not want to be caught recycling compliments. They must be original and tailored to the person you want to compliment."
I press a palm to my sweating forehead. "Is all this really necessary? I thought my role was firmly behind the scenes."
Lavernia places a steadying hand on my arm. "You currently occupy a very coveted position at court. A position Morel's fame and good favor have afforded you. If you do not prove yourself a worthy addition to life at court, another painter will rise up and take your place."
"And because your presence has also been requested at one of Queen Henriette's private parties," Lafayette adds.
My stomach flips like I've been thrown to the floor again. "Why?"
"That's the question we're all asking ourselves," Destan says.
"But what about befriending Dame Charlotte D'Ambois? I don't want to get in the way of the order's plans," I protest and wipe my sweating hands on my skirts.
"For all we know, Queen Henriette's invitation has no relation to my courtship of her sister. I'm more inclined to believe this is entirely to do with the acclaim your paintings received at the Academy Salon."
"Oh," I say. "If you're sure..."
"You'll be fine," Destan says sharply. "If you listen and do what we tell you."
I wrinkle my nose and glare at him. "D'accord. I'm listening."
Lavernia squeezes my arm. "Let us try some compliments."
They drill me through dinner on rules of etiquette, table manners, court dances, and the elements of polite conversation. Lavernia even teaches me how to stand and how to walk like a courtier and it is all somehow more exhausting than when Destan tried to teach me how to defend myself against an attack.
My feet ache in their heeled satin shoes but I finish another lap around the salon with as much elegance as I can muster. "Have I learned enough for today?" I plead as I softly lower myself into a chair with what I hope is the grace of a prima ballerina. "Have I listened enough for you, Destan?"
His eyes meet mine from across the sitting area, his lips a challenging smirk. "Pay me one genuine compliment and you are finished for the day," he says defiantly.
I sit a little taller in my seat as my desire to end my agony wars with the urge to match Destan's wit with my own. "Fine," I reply, but words evade me as I realize I now have to come up with a genuine compliment for Destan.
Destan's grin widens the longer I stall. "You cannot take this long. You must be quicker."
"I...I...I hear you occupy a significant position in court. The position of captain of the Guarde du Corps is much respected by everyone at Versailles—"
"Yes, but there are so many other people with closer positions to the king," Destan throws his arms up dramatically in feigned indignation. "Why would you bring that up? Now I'm embarrassed and self-conscious. Try again."
My pulse races and my hands grasp at my skirts in a feeble attempt to hold back my temper. "Then...I guess I would tell you that you seem to be a well-respected leader among the guarde and the nobility—"
"I'm respected at court, but not by you?" Destan says slyly.
"I said nothing of the sort," I cry.
Destan folds his arms across his broad chest. "Yes, but you're forgetting that I'm an insecure noble with a fragile ego, an inherited title, and more debts than my crumbling chateau is worth. Try harder."
I take a deep breath to steady my pulse and take a few spare moments to search my memory for anything that would appease Destan and the unspoken rules of court compliments. Nothing political. Nothing of clothing or form, though Destan's is quite worth remark. My mind drifts to the many scars hidden beneath layers of silk and a shimmer of glamour, but I can't mention his military accomplishments. The lives he's saved in battle.
And lost.
And taken.
If I compliment him on his spectacular eye for art, there's a chance he'd find a way to turn it against me again. I have to go with something sincere. Something true. I'm sure he expects me to try something witty, so instead, I search my memory for a moment of admiration. My thoughts drift to Marie Antoinette's salon when I first saw them interact with each other.
"I'm waiting," Destan says.
"Fine," I say and set a demure smile on my lips. I'm sure I look vapid than usual, but I hope my compliment will ring true and clear without the hint of a hidden agenda. "I admire the gentleness you show towards Queen Marie Antoinette. She shows a tenderness towards you that testifies to her trust in you. After what she has suffered, it is a testament to your character."
The smirk falls from Destan's lips. "Merci." His face is marked with surprise as he glances towards the others in the room.
"I think that's enough for today," Lafayette says with lips pursed to stifle a grin. "Mademoiselle Florette has made great strides. She will soon have the court eating out of the palm of her hand."
We disperse for the evening one at a time so as not to draw unwanted attention to ourselves, so I'm surprised when Destan offers to escort me back to my chambers. "Everyone of any importance will be in the king and queen's chambers at this hour," he excused before we walked the rest of the way in silence.
When we stop in front of the door to my apartments, I'm surprised when he doesn't insist on searching it for intruders. "Did you truly mean what you said?" he asks instead, his blue eyes pleading.
My pulse flutters, but I'm not sure why. There's no anger flaming in my veins. Perhaps we have had enough sparring for the day. "Of course," I reply. "You can tell a lot about a person by how they treat the people they have nothing to gain from."
Destan looks as stunned as if I'd slapped him across the face. "Well then, again, thank you."
"You're welcome," I reply.
I slip inside the door but pause when it looks like Destan has something else he want's to say. "What is it?"
He shakes his head. "It's nothing. Goodnight, Florette," he says, his eyes avoiding mine, then he takes off down the passageway with long strides.
I shut the door behind me, unnerved by our exchange. My hands tingle at my sides. I try to shake away the feeling, but it has little effect on the sensation.
Strange. Very strange.