“That’s what I fear!” Marie-Josèphe whispered.
Haleed sponged her face.
“You know the creature’s to be butchered,” Yves said. “How could you become so attached to it? This is just like your lamb, when you begged papa not to kill it —”
“Don’t task me with what I did as a child,” Marie-Josèphe said. “I’m not a child any longer.”
“Your behavior —”
“I’m attached to the sea woman as I’m attached to you, as I’m attached to Mlle Haleed — I beg for her life because she is a thinking, reasoning person, a being with a soul, and because I do not wish my King to be a cannibal —”
Dr. Fagon cleared his throat. Marie-Josèphe fell silent.
“You’re speaking nonsense,” Yves said.
Dr. Fagon and Dr. Félix entered Marie-Josèphe’s room without asking her consent. Marie-Josèphe thought wildly that her apartment was becoming as crowded as one of His Majesty’s evening entertainments.
“His Majesty is right to be concerned with your well-being,” the first physician said.
“I’m perfectly well, sir.” Her voice was steady, but she was trembling. She felt cold and light-headed.
“Hush, you are pallid and hysterical.” Fagon bent over her and peered into her eyes. “What happened?
“She received a shock,” Lorraine said. “She fainted.”
“Nonsense,” Haleed said. “Fainted!”
“Be silent!” Dr Félix said.
“She’s only tired,” Haleed said, outraged. “She’s hardly slept since M. Yves returned.”
“No one spoke to you.” Dr Félix swung around toward her so violently that Haleed flinched.
“Sir!” Yves said. “The King’s favor doesn’t allow you to abuse members of my household.”
“Don’t touch her!” Marie-Josèphe said. “Don’t touch me!”
“Marie-Josèphe, let him examine you,” Yves said.
Haleed flung herself across Marie-Josèphe. Marie-Josèphe buried her face against her sister’s shoulder, grateful and terrified.
Dr. Félix and Lorraine pulled Haleed up. She struggled and keened. Félix propelled her toward Yves.
“Take your servant away,” Fagon said. “We cannot work with two hysterical women in the room!”
Yves held Haleed so she could not move from his side.
“Brother —” Haleed cried.
“Take this madwoman away,” Fagon said. “I shall send the barber to bleed her, as well.”
“It’s for your own good, sister,” Yves said, “I’m sure it is.” He backed out of Marie-Josèphe’s room, into his dressing room, taking Haleed with him.
“Yves, don’t let them — please — remember papa —” Fear overtook Marie-Josèphe, for she was lost.
Félix held her face between his powerful hands. Fagon forced her mouth open. His fingers tasted of blood and dirt. She could not scream. He poured a bitter draught down her throat. She gagged and struggled.
“Sir,” Dr. Fagon said to Lorraine, “will you condescend to help, for His Majesty’s sake?”
“I’ll help for my own sake, for she’s mine.” Lorraine pinioned Marie-Josèphe’s arms with his hard hands.
“I never fainted, I never faint.” She turned her head away from Dr. Fagon’s dirty fingers. “I assure you, sir —”
“I shall bleed her,” Dr. Félix said. “Bloodletting will calm her mind.”
Marie-Josèphe fought, terrified, but she could not overcome the strength of all three men. She tried to bite.
“Don’t struggle so. We’re acting for your benefit.”
Her scream came out as a strangled cry. Kneeling on the bed beside her, Lorraine covered her with his musky scent. He pressed her shoulders down with all his weight. The long locks of his perruke tumbled around his face and curled at Marie-Josèphe’s throat. She kicked. Someone held her feet, one bare, one shod.
“Show some courage,” Lorraine said. “Make His Majesty proud of your fortitude — not ashamed of your cowardice.”
Félix pushed her sleeve above her elbow and held her wrist tight. He took up his blade. The sharp steel pierced the soft skin of her inner arm. Hot blood flowed through pain, its coppery scent cutting through Lorraine’s heavy perfume. She moaned. Her blood gushed into the bowl, spattering her riding habit and the bedclothes. Bright flecks stained the lace spilling from Dr. Fagon’s sleeves.
Smiling, gazing into her eyes, Lorraine held Marie-Josèphe down.
Lucien limped along the narrow, dim corridor, ignoring the faded pain of his wounded leg and the stronger, nearly constant ache in his back. He disliked the attic of the chateau. He disliked its shabbiness, its smell, its memories. As a child, a page, he had lived in the Queen’s apartments. After the Moroccan embassy, returned to the King’s good graces, he had lived in the town of Versailles until the builders finished his own country lodge. He had lived here in the courtiers’ warren only during the most miserable months of his life, when he was alienated from His Majesty.
Mlle de la Croix’ door opened. Dr. Fagon, Dr. Félix, and Lorraine stepped into the hallway. Mlle de la Croix’ cry of despair dissolved into a whimper. Lucien frowned. He judged character well; he did not often mistake courage. He had considered her stalwart, if impetuous.
Lucien nodded to Fagon and Félix; he returned Lorraine’s cool bow. Félix rubbed his thumb over the back of his hand, smearing drops of blood to faint streaks.
“I have cured her hysteria,” Félix said.
“His Majesty will be glad to hear it. He’s fond of the young lady and her family.”
“And of her golden hair and her white bosom,” Lorraine said.
Lucien replied with a conventional compliment. “No one could fail to admire her.”
Though Mlle de la Croix was entirely innocent, rumors of a liaison with the King could work only to her benefit. Lucien wished His Majesty would in fact form such a liaison. His connection with Mme de Maintenon, drawing him deep into piety, did little to sustain his vital spirit.
“She may require another bloodletting tomorrow, to augment the cure.” Fagon tilted the basin. Liquid blood moved beneath the clotted skin.
Félix probed the blood with his finger, breaking the elastic surface. Fagon righted the basin as the blood flowed over the edge and stained the carpet.