Marie-Josèphe jumped to her feet. “I can’t allow His Majesty to think that was my brother’s fault!” she cried.
The sea monster echoed her exclamation.
“Hush, Marie-Josèphe,” Yves said. “No need to involve M. de Chrétien. His Majesty forgave me —”
“For my error!” The sea monster whistled, as if to emphasize Marie-Josèphe’s mistake.
“What does it matter? All’s well.”
Count Lucien considered, his brow furrowed for a moment. “M. de la Croix has the right of it,” he said to Marie-Josèphe. “His Majesty need not be troubled twice to forgive a single transgression. I must caution you against another lapse.”
Count Lucien bowed to Yves, to Marie-Josèphe, and took his leave. He leaned on his walking stick heavily, after the long hours of inactivity. Though the sides of the tent remained open, he departed through the entrance, and the musketeers held the curtains aside. Outside, his Arabian bowed. He clambered into the saddle and galloped away.
When he was out of earshot, Marie-Josèphe said, “I’m so sorry, I’ve made such a dreadful tangle of today — of your triumph.”
“Truly,” Yves said, “it’s forgotten.”
She gave him a quick, grateful hug.
“Go feed the creature — hurry. And bid it be silent!”
Marie-Josèphe entered the sea monster’s cage and captured a fish. It twisted in the net, weak and nearly dead.
“Sea monster! Dinner! Fish!” She swept the net through the water. Her fingers dipped beneath the surface, into the low vibration of the sea monster’s voice.
Beneath the hooves of the dawn horses, the sea monster lifted her head. Her hair, her forehead, her eyes rose above the water. She peered at Marie-Josèphe.
“Will it scream again if I take down the curtains?” Yves asked.
“I don’t know, Yves — I don’t know why it started screaming. Or why it stopped, or why it sings.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter — the noise won’t trouble the King.”
The lackeys pulled down the makeshift curtains and remade the sides of the tent.
“It was in such distress,” Marie-Josèphe said. “Come here, sea monster. Are you all right? Are you hurt?’
Silent, the sea monster swam toward her. Marie-Josèphe let the live fish free. The sea monster darted forward, netted it between its webbed hands, and ate it in one bite.
“It’s so quick!”
“It wasn’t quick enough to escape the net.”
Marie-Josèphe threw it another fish. The sea monster kicked its tails, jumped halfway out of the water, and caught the fish in the air. It disappeared into the pool, crunching the fish’s bones and fins between its teeth.
“But you said — it was mating, it was entranced —”
“I don’t care to discuss that.” Yves’ face flushed beneath his fading tan.
“But —”
“I will not discuss fornication, even animal fornication, with my sister who is straight from the convent!”
Yves’ tone startled her. When they were children, they had discussed everything. Of course, when they were children, neither had known a thing about fornication, animal or otherwise. Perhaps he still knew nothing, and his ignorance embarrassed him, or the truth of it frightened him, as what Marie-Josèphe had learned in the convent frightened her.
She netted the last fish and offered it to the sea monster from her bare hand. The sea monster swam within an armslength. The fish thrashed in Marie-Josèphe’s fingers.
“Come, sea monster. Fish, good fish.”
“Fishhhhh,” said the sea monster.
Marie-Josèphe caught her breath, delighted. “She talks, just like a parrot.”
She let the fish swim into the sea monster’s hands. The sea monster crunched it between her teeth, and submerged.
“I can train her —”
“To be silent?” Yves said.
“I don’t know,” Marie-Josèphe said thoughtfully. “If I were sure what distressed her. She sounded so sad — she almost made me cry.”
“No one minds if you cry. But the sea monster’s wailing distressed His Majesty. Come along, we must hurry.”
Marie-Josèphe packed her drawing box while he chained the gate and fastened it with a padlock. She drew out her sketch of the male sea monster’s face, with its halo of glass and gold.
“What are these decorations? Where did the glass come from? The gilt?”
“A broken flask. Debris from the Fountain.”
“The live sea monster put them here? Is that what she was doing last night? Why?”
He shrugged. “The sea monsters are like ravens. They collect shiny things.”
“It looks like —”
“— nothing.”
Yves took the sketch from her hand, crumpled it, and thrust it against the slow-match. The paper ignited. The halo around the dead sea monster’s head blackened and crumpled. Yves threw Marie-Josèphe’s sketch into a crucible and let it burn.
“Yves — !”
His smile dazzled her. “Come along.” He folded her hand in the crook of his elbow and led her from the tent.
Behind them, the sea monster whispered, “Fishhhh....”
6
Marie-Josèphe stretched her arms up into the new court dress as Odelette lifted it over her head.
The beautiful blue satin and silver lace banished all Marie-Josèphe’s regrets for the ruined yellow silk. One of Lotte’s servants had brought the dress; Odelette had worked magic on it, taking it in and rearranging the trim.
The boned bodice and skirt slipped down over camisole, stays, and stockings, petticoat and underskirt. Odelette did up the fastenings, tucked back the skirt to reveal the petticoat, and deftly adjusted the ruffles.
Marie-Josèphe was so grateful to Lotte. Mademoiselle’s gift allowed her to attend the Pope’s arrival in a proper dress.
Marie-Josèphe wondered if she would be allowed to meet the Holy Father, to kiss his ring. Surely she would not; that privilege must be reserved for important members of court. She would see him, which she had never hoped to do, for his visit to France was extraordinary.
He is such a good man, she thought. A good man, a holy man. When His Holiness and His Majesty are reconciled, they’ll stop the evils of the world.
Odelette brought out an elaborate new fontanges decorated with leftover lace from the dress and Marie-Josèphe’s last few ribbons.