A ballerina soars through the air and crashes bodily into her partner in a carefully choreographed embrace. The music of the orchestra soars. The Water-Theatre in the gardens of Versailles is like something out of a fairytale. The grove of trees provides a backdrop and jets of water dance behind the pair along long allées that cut through the woods. I watch from the back of the crowded amphitheater with Lavernia at my side.

The king and his queen watch from their thrones at the front of the audience. Couriers titter quietly as if this is any social gathering, but I can't take my eyes off the dancers. They break apart only to come back to each other again and again as if there's a string between them that can never be severed. Something in me hungers as I watch the tenderness of the silent communication between their bodies. A hand on her waist. Her elbow. Her face.

I know they are playing at romance, but there's a small part of me that wishes someone wanted to look at me the way Romeo looks at his Juliet. The want brings a sickening hollow feeling to my gut.

Lavernia hands me her handkerchief before I even start to cry.
"Thank you," I whisper as tears well in my eyes.

"Beautiful, is it not?" She doesn't take her eyes off the stage.

"Beautiful," I confirm.

Lavernia has a glisten in her own eyes but she refuses the handkerchief when I try to return it to her.

I hazard a glance at the crowd and spot the movement of a familiar figure. Destan, dressed in the uniform of a Garde du Corps de Roi, moves our way with intense purpose. He wears a dark blue coat with bright red facings. His straight, white trousers meet a pair of polished black boots below his knees. I've waited days for him to find me after my conversation with Lafayette and my pulse races accordingly. He stops in front of Lavernia and tips his head to her as if our meeting is nothing but ordinary.

"General," Lavernia says almost tauntingly. Knowingly. Perhaps she knew he would find us here today.

Destan turns to address me. "Mademoiselle Florette, may I have a word with you? In private." His words are clipped and I can tell he isn't pleased with me.

"I can step away for a moment," Lavernia offers.

"No, please," I say. "Do not concern yourself. I will speak with General Bordelon in private if he wishes."

Lavernia fixes me with an arched brow and a reassuring squeeze to my arm before she returns her attention to the dancers.

I follow Destan's lead through the gardens. Once we have moved away from all the other courtiers who meander through the grove, he stops behind a gnarled cypress with a trunk thick enough to hide the both of us. "Florette, what do you think you are doing?"

I meet his blue eyes and clench my fists to hold my resolve. "I'm going to help your cause."

There is anger in Destan's face, but something closer to loathing flashes across it. "Please Florette, you have no idea what you're trying to get yourself into—"

"Lafayette told me what you're planning to do. He also said he needs my help."

Destan rounds on me and fists his hands at his sides. His eyes are marked with anger. "And he had no right to—"

"Please." I smooth my brows in hopes of softening the contempt from my face. "You don't need to let me in on everything, but can't you give me something to do? I am a nobody with nothing to lose. If you can use me, use me."

Emotions flicker across Destan's face, but despite my desperate plea, he seems resolved. "Look. You do not understand—"

This does nothing but further fuel my rage. "You are right. I do not understand. Because if there was anything else I could do to see power taken from these Fae and given to the people, I wouldn't hesitate; France is on the brink of destruction. I want a future that rebellion might afford us, and I am willing to risk my life to get it."

"It is far more complicated than risking my life." Destan closes the space between us and stops when there is just a breath of air between us. I think he means to intimidate me, but he ducks his head in shame. "The Fae have leverage over me."

When he looks back at me I recognize the look of a cornered animal. "What leverage?" I ask, suddenly aware that I might not be as safe around Destan as I thought I was.

"You." He catches me by the arm as I try to take a step back and draws me in close. My breath catches when I find his face so close to mine. A curl of his dark hair has fallen onto his forehead. He is a tall man and broad-shouldered, so I feel quite small pinned beneath his gaze. His scent is a spiced, nutty cologne that fills my nose at this close distance. I hide my shock and the twisting deep in my gut with a glare.

My eyes widen. "Me? Destan, you didn't speak to me for weeks after I finished your portrait."

"Exactly. When Queen Henriette walked in on us in your studio, I got a sudden and overwhelming urge to protect you."

I bristle a little at his implication, but there's something about the fact that his instinct was to protect me catches in my throat. "I can handle myself well enough," I say. I don't say that it's because for a long time I didn't have anyone in my life who cared enough to watch my back. Until Morel, I had to do that myself.

Destan seems more agitated now. "I know, but that is not what is important. My instincts are different from yours. They are more animal than human at times. The instinct to hunt, to protect, and to mate."

I straighten to my full height. "Now listen here. No one is mating with me without my say-so."

"No, it is not that." His hand loosens from around my arm, but he doesn't let go. His fingers trail over my skin to settle around my wrist. My skin burns beneath his touch. "I can control that. But, I am drawn to you in a way I cannot explain and my body has a different physical reaction to you."

I raise a brow at him.

Destan releases me and buries his fingers into his hair. "No! Not that. I give off a scent that tells other Fae that..." His throat bobs as he swallows "... that you are under my protection."

I think perhaps I can smell the scent he claims to give off when he's around me. There's something sweet in the air.

" Florette, I am so sorry. There was no way for me to stop it. Once it started, your safety and survival were all I could think about. Then forcing myself to stay away from you only made me more aware of you."

"Please, let me think," I say as my thoughts and the look on Destan's face threaten to overwhelm me.

"I know. It's a lot to process," he says.

"So Lord Gardet does not know?"

"The territorial scent of protection is almost indistinguishable from the mating scent. He suspects something, probably the latter, but I have spent weeks ignoring you in an attempt to prove him wrong. If he finds out, the Fae can get me to do anything if it means keeping you safe."

"You should have warned me," I snap.

"I know—"

"No matter your instincts, I'm not going to let you use my safety as an excuse to keep me from my duty."

"Florette—" He extends a hand to touch my arm.

My whispered name sends shivers down my spine. "No!" I exclaim and move out of his reach. "Your concern is touching, but I have made up my mind and you can't intimidate or charm me out of it," I say, wrapping my arms around my waist.

Destan doesn't answer. He only watches me with the muscles in his jaw working rapidly. "Do you send your paintings to hang in the Salons of Paris?" he asks after a prolonged silence.

"Of course. I am working on paintings for the Royal Academy's Salon." I don't tell him how much my desire to paint has dwindled since the attack.

"Could you hide a message in one of the paintings for me?" Destan's eyes scan my face.

My brows raise. "What kind of message?"

"It's complicated. I need to get a message to a friend in Paris — to tell him that all letters in and out of Versailles are being read."

Fear clenches at my throat. I don't have anyone to write to, but I still feel like my privacy has been ripped away from me. "Why can't you deliver the message yourself?"

"I have no business in Paris. To leave Versailles would draw suspicion upon me. Besides, Lord Gardet had me followed when I only went into the village to order some clothes from a tailor."

My face falls when I realize Destan is truly trapped here in this gilded prison. It fills me with more sympathy than I'm willing to admit, but I straighten to my full height so he's no longer looking so far down at me. "Would I need to smuggle a letter in the backing of a painting?"
"No," Destan says firmly. "It needs to be more subtle. Something coded. Something symbolic would be even better."

"How soon do you need this mysterious painting?"

"As soon as possible."

I narrow my eyes at him. "And I cannot know anything else?"

"It would be for the best," Destan says.

"In case I happened to be questioned about your treason?" I whisper.

"It is for your protection." He looks angry now. "I know you don't care about risking your life, but for my sake — for all our sakes — watch what you say, Florette. There is always someone listening. Don't trust anyone — even the servants."

"For all of who?" I ask.

Destan glares at me.

"What about Lavernia? And Hadrian. Do they answer to you too?"

Destan doesn't answer my question.

"You really don't trust anyone, do you?" I goad him.

Muscles tick inside his jaw. "You have all the information you need. Send for me when you have a sketch for the painting."

"I will," I reply through gritted teeth.

Destan doesn't even stop to bow when he takes his leave. I wait long enough to watch him stalk off behind a row of hedges before I head back towards the Amphitheater.

I stumble across Lavernia on her way to find me. She wears a wicked grin. "Did you have a nice diversion?"

"Not particularly," I say with a little too much acid. I reassume my position at her side and ignore the way she's watching me. We redirect our course to the palace.

"Clearly," Lavernia says with a snort. "Whatever it is, I would not be taking it out on that handkerchief. I would be taking it out on him."

I breathe out my anger and unclench my hand around the delicate silk. "There is no need for that. I am not going to waste my energy on a man who sees me only as a liability — who thinks me incapable of making my own decisions."

Lavernia laughs even harder now. "Honestly. Destan never trusts anyone, except perhaps Lafayette. Lafayette and I were the ones who vouched for you, but I've never seen Destan so intent on keeping someone out of The Order. Perhaps too intent." She winks at me.

I don't know what hits me harder: the confirmation of their secret order, or the fact that Destan doesn't want me to be part of it.

"It's called The Order?" I sputter.

"The Order of Athena," Lavernia corrects before she looks at me curiously. "I'm surprised Destan didn't tell you that."

Anger twists in my gut. "No, he didn't. He wants to leave me completely in the dark. Now, do you understand my frustration?"

"Oh, gracious. I didn't know — I thought this meeting was to bring you into The Order. I think I've said too much."

"You trust me, don't you?" I ask.

"Of course I do," Lavernia says. "And I wouldn't be too hard on Destan. His intentions are honorable even if they are misguided. He is more cautious than most when it comes to letting people get close to him. A lot of powerful people have plans for that man."

I glance away from the path ahead. "What kind of plans?"

"I'm sure Lord Gardet has many intentions for his son, but..." Lavernia pauses as she seems to try to determine what she can tell me. "Did Destan tell you that the Protectorate wants him to take a position in the National Assembly?"

My eyes widen as my stomach turns with fear. A position in French politics comes with much danger. "He has not told me, but who is the Protectorate?"

Lavernia tucks a curl behind her ear. "He is the brains behind the Order, a brilliant man if you ask me. He never asks anyone to do anything lightly."

"Is he here at the palace?"

Lavernia shakes her head. "He is hidden well in the city."

Perhaps this is Destan's friend in Paris. "And has Destan accepted this position?" I'm not sure what I hope for. Perhaps Destan was right to push me away. I certainly had no intention to get involved with politics, but that was before I ever set foot in Versailles. Before the attack. My sense of self-preservation tells me to stay away from Destan, but something deep in my gut wants anything but that.

"He has refused so far," Lavernia says.

I'm not sure if I'm relieved, but my initial reaction is disappointment. And it comes as a surprise.

"Maybe you can talk to him," adds with a look that makes me think she senses my disappointment with Destan's decision.

"Maybe I will."

Lavernia squeezes my arm. "And don't let him intimidate you. He is all snarl and growl, but he's ultimately harmless. Don't be afraid to push him."

"I won't," I say, but I'm not sure Lavernia is quite accurate. What Destan did to those rioters in my rooms was anything but harmless.

***

Thank you so much for reading! What do you think of this plan? Will the hidden message in the painting work?