“You know, Cousin, each time I tried to visit your quaint principality, something went horribly wrong.” He faced them and handed Lio his flute. “Carriages lost wheels, catastrophes cropped up out of nowhere, maidens needed rescuing. It was as if fate was working against me.”
Lio took the flute and pressed a hand to his chest. “A good thing too, Bastien, as I was grievously ill.”
Belle did her best to settle her hands as she listened to Lio tell the lie they had come up with when they realized that, because of the curse, everyone outside of the castle had simply forgotten about their prince for ten years.
When she and Lio defeated it, memories came flooding back through the kingdom and beyond, memories of the spoiled orphan prince of a kingdom left to fester for ten years. It meant they had a lot of questions to answer, but it wasn’t as if anyone could know the truth. An illness seemed as close to honesty as they could get without informing everyone that Aveyon had been ruled by a reclusive beast for a decade.
Bastien quirked his brow. “My letters went unanswered.”
This is our first test, Belle reminded herself to stop from panicking. If all went well with Bastien, the rest of their plan could come to fruition.
“Meaningful correspondence was out of my reach, Bastien.
I was—”
“Ill, I know.” He drained his flute. “Thank God and the king for your eventual recuperation, Lio. I’d wager most individuals never recover from a ten-year illness.” He studied them both, perhaps looking for a crack in their defenses. Belle smiled as serenely as she could manage, and something seemed to shift in the duc. He raised his empty glass in the air. “To good physicians.”
Lio’s shoulders dropped, but Belle didn’t think Bastien noticed. He raised his full flute in reciprocation. “And to family.”
“Old and new,” Bastien added, standing and walking to the champagne cart. “I want to know everything about your whirlwind romance, Cousin, but that can wait. First, you must tell me what interest you have in Versailles. You certainly haven’t expressed any in the last ten years.”
Lio cleared his throat. “I wish to reassert my allegiance to the king. I owe him as much after my time away from court.”
Bastien looked back at them. “Versailles is not as you remember it, Cousin.”
Lio nodded. “I am not surprised to hear it, as I have not been to the palace since I was a boy.”
Bastien poured more champagne. “King Louis has likely forgotten all about your humble principality. So much has happened here since you last visited. Are you sure you wish to poke the bear, so to speak?” he asked over his shoulder.
Lio’s smile was tight. “I remember Louis to be a reasonable man, Bastien.”
He turned dramatically on his heel to face them. “The treasury is empty, Cousin. France is drowning in debt after supporting the blasted American Revolution. Surely you heard of the unrest of the Third Estate?” It had only been some months since Belle and Lio and Aveyon had emerged from the curse, but diplomacy had not been a priority in their kingdom for a long time. They had heard small rumbles of what Bastien was referring to, that the Third Estate, France’s peasant class, was suffering, but Belle and Lio had not paid them any special attention. Belle felt foolish, and Bastien sighed at their ignorance as he sat down. “Louis is in desperate need of money, and he tried to obtain it as he always has—with taxes. But this time, he wanted the nobles and clergy to pay their share. Unsurprisingly, they refused.” He swung his legs up onto the desk before him and folded his arms across his chest. “Out of desperation, he convened the États généraux for the first time in nearly two hundred years. Needless to say, that did not go well.” He waved his hand lazily. “It was perceived as an attempt to control the outcome, and as a result, the Third Estate is calling themselves the National Assembly now, claiming to represent not the estates of France, but the people. They are demanding a constitution be drafted.” He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “How very American.”
“How bad is it, Bastien?”
Bastien smiled wickedly, like a man rich enough to feel removed from it all. “Well, it certainly isn’t good, Cousin; we are in the midst of a financial crisis. And King Louis just sacked Jacques Necker, ever the stalwart finance minister, so now everyone is angry: rich, poor, noble, peasant. It wasn’t the canniest of moves, if you ask me.”
“Perhaps we should postpone our visit to Versailles,” Belle suggested.
“Oh, it’s too late for that. Doubtless word has already spread through court like a pox. A prince étranger, returned from the dead!” Bastien pulled an emerald ring from his finger, the jewel the size of a quail’s egg, and spun it lazily on the desk. “You’ll be the talk of Versailles. I would be surprised if a messenger wasn’t on the way already with an invitation from Louis. He will wish to evaluate you.” Lio glanced at Belle, who did her best not to shrink under Bastien’s words. The duc sensed their discomfort. “I can accompany you, Cousin. Louis has a fondness for me, to say nothing of the queen.” He winked at the veiled suggestion. Belle suppressed the desire to gag. “I can help to soften the blow of your extended absence, but if I’m to go to all this trouble, you must at least attempt to fit in at court. To start with, you’ll need a new outfit if you wish to cross through even the gates of the castle, and a hefty amount of powder in that hair if you don’t wish to deeply offend the courtiers.”
Lio stiffened. “Perhaps I could borrow from you, Bastien.”
Bastien evaluated him lazily. “Perhaps.” He shifted his gaze to Belle and steepled his fingers under his chin. “Am I right in assuming you were, up until very recently, a commoner?” Belle fidgeted in her gown, a robe à l’anglaise that had seemed so fine to her when Madame Garderobe had presented it. The gown was made of striped blue-and-cream silk, with the softest lace peeking from above the bodice, covering her neckline. The sleeves were tight and fell to just below her elbows. Bastien ducked his head to catch her eye and smiled sympathetically. “It’s not just the gown, Belle. You wear your former status on you like a brand.”
“How dare you—” Lio started.
Bastien held up his hands in mock surrender. “It is not an evaluation of her character, Cousin. But you’d be feeding her to the wolves in Versailles.” He looked at her almost tenderly. “I mean no offense, Belle, but you do not belong in King Louis’s court. The courtiers would sniff out your weaknesses and exploit them before you’d even have a chance to curtsy.”
Belle nodded, but Lio was indignant. “Belle can do whatever she pleases. If anyone has a problem with her, they can answer to me.” She was sure no one else would notice how, in anger, his voice still slipped into something akin to a growl. But Belle had lived with the Beast longer than she had lived with Lio. She could pick out the parts that lingered still, but she would never tell him as much.
“And what of the king, Cousin? Or do you forget that your duty as a prince étranger was to marry for political gain and not love? Weren’t you all but betrothed to a lesser Habsburg from birth?” Bastien’s hand fluttered over his embroidered collar. “I think perhaps it would be best if news of your marriage came as a happy surprise after you’re back in the king’s good graces, wouldn’t you agree?”