Secrets and Lies

Chapter 6

Porthos couldn't wipe the grin from his face as he left the kitchen, his stomach full, his body recharged from the forced days of rest at Aramis' side. He was happy to see his friend feeling better, knowing their time of leisure at the palace was almost at an end. The King's hospitality was not infinite and despite Louis' gratitude for their actions, Porthos was wary of overstaying their welcome.

With Aramis' wound healing well and his strength increasing, Daquin had given his blessing for the marksman to return to his own quarters, promising to check on him later in the week to monitor his progress. It would still be some time before Aramis would be strong enough to return to duty, but just having him back at the garrison would be enough for now.

Of course, Aramis may not be in complete agreement. The near tragedy had been a blessing in disguise for the Spaniard, giving him a legitimate excuse to be within the confines of the palace and opportunity to spend time with the Queen. It had probably been a mistake on Porthos' part to allow them so much time alone together, but she was the Queen, and he was duty-bound to obey her commands – at least that would be the excuse he would give to Athos when the older Musketeer inevitably chastised him for his lack of judgment.

It had been obvious from the moment he had seen her expression in the ballroom that Queen Anne had been terrified for her Musketeer. Her eyes had begged him to do something, anything to help Aramis, her fear of losing him frighteningly apparent on her face. Porthos wasn't sure if her seemingly magnified alarm was his own perception borne of knowing her true connection to Aramis, or was truly appropriate of the situation. He prayed if anyone else had noted her panic, they would consider it a reasonable response to the attack and not a more personal fear for the man who'd been bleeding in front of her.

As he turned a corner to make his way back to the East wing, he heard a familiar voice call his name and he stopped, his smile widening, waiting for his fellow Musketeers to close the distance between them.

"Athos, d'Artagnan." He took both of their hands in turn, pumping them enthusiastically. "It's good to see you, my friends. I trust your mission was successful?"

"Indeed," Athos returned his smile with a subdued one of his own. "Captain Treville told us Aramis is recovering well?"

Porthos nodded. "He's been up and about some today. Daquin has deemed him fit enough to be moved back to the garrison tomorrow."

Athos sighed and clapped a hand on Porthos' shoulder. "That is good news."

"Very good news," d'Artagnan agreed. "Is he awake? Can we see him?"

Porthos' smile dimmed and he shifted on his feet, his eyes darting to Athos sheepishly. "He was sleepin' when I left him a while ago… with the Queen…"

Athos' brows shot up but he held his rebuke, instead drawing a deep breath in through his nose. "Then the three of us descending upon him may be… irresponsible." The older man's tone was even, but Porthos understood the intended admonishment. "We are awaiting Treville and the Comte de Rochefort. Once they've arrived we will be presenting our findings to the King and the Cardinal." He stared levelly at Porthos. "Perhaps you could look in on our friend and see if he is available to join us?"

"Ahhh, yeah," Porthos rolled his eyes but nodded slowly. "I suppose I could do that."

"Good," Athos forced his smile. "We look forward to seeing you both shortly."

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Porthos approached the door, nodding to the guard who still remained on duty. With a deep breath, he rapped, smiling nervously at the guard before opening the door a crack and peeking inside,

To his relief, the bed was vacant.

It would have been incredibly embarrassing to walk in on Aramis and the Queen of France… he couldn't even bring himself to finish the thought.

He squeezed into the room and quickly closed the door behind him. His relief immediately turned to confusion as his eyes roamed the large room – the large unoccupied room – before him. He leaned back against the door, momentarily considering opening the door and inquiring about the whereabouts of the Queen, but concluded that if the guard who was responsible for guarding Anne was still standing his post outside, he, in all likelihood, still believed the Queen to be inside the room.

Which she wasn't.

Porthos understood that he was not the most intellectual of his comrades, but he wasn't a fool. If the guard remained outside the door, then Aramis and the Queen must have left through a different door. Except there was no other door from this room.

Just as an ache pulsed behind his eyes, he heard a soft hiss as if something was sliding against the stone floor. One of the draperies against the far wall billowed and, as if by magic, Queen Anne stepped out from behind it followed closely by the missing Musketeer. Neither seemed to notice him at first, their eyes on each other. They were both smiling like idiots, hands clasped together, faces flushed.

Straightening up from his slouch against the door, Porthos cleared his throat loudly, causing them both to jump and drop their hands to their sides.

Porthos bowed to the Queen, simultaneously giving his grinning friend an exasperated look.

"Porthos, " Aramis moved to the side of the bed and gingerly lowered himself down. "I wasn't expecting you back quite so soon."

"Obviously."

Anne stepped forward, her regal air in place as if two people coming out of the wall was an everyday occurrence. "I hope you found all you desired in the kitchens, Monsieur."

Porthos nodded. "I was well taken care of, Your Highness."

Anne dipped her head graciously and crossed the room, knocking to indicate she was ready to leave. As the guard opened the door, she turned back and gave Aramis a sweet smile. "I'm pleased you are feeling better, Monsieur Aramis. I will leave you in your friend's capable hands."

Aramis returned the smile. "Thank you, Your Majesty. You visit has been… more than I could've ever hoped."

With another regal dip of her head, she swept through the doorway followed by the guard.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Porthos stalked toward the bed, passing his friend and dropping down into the chair. "It looks like I wasn't the only one who was well taken care of," he growled.

"Porthos," Aramis chided, his smile firmly in place. "Nothing untoward happened. Do you think me a fool?"

Porthos studied him for a moment before responding. "No, I think you're playin' with fire. What was that?" he asked, tilting his head toward the secret door. "Where the hell did you get off to?"

Aramis shifted on the bed, slowly levering himself back onto the pillows propped against the headboard. His eyes lost focus and his smile became wistful. "She took me to see him, Porthos." He turned to his friend, his eyes shining in the flickering candlelight. "He's beautiful."

Porthos sighed. He was happy to see Aramis look so content, but it only increased his fear for his friend. It was obvious Aramis' heart was wholly lost to the Dauphin. He had already believed the child his, and now there would be no way to convince him otherwise. He may be able to conceal his love for Anne under the guise of duty, but no one would mistake that look in his eyes for anything but a father's love. Aramis' penchant for giving his whole heart was something Porthos had always admired, but it was also his friend's greatest weakness, one that would ultimately lead to his downfall.

Athos was going to kill them both.

"Athos and d'Artagnan have returned." Porthos turned away, his voice even, unable to look upon his friend's blissful countenance any longer.

Aramis stared for a moment before averting his gaze. "Did they find what they were looking for?" All traces of the previous joy were gone from his voice and Porthos felt a rush of guilt for denying him this bliss.

Porthos nodded. "We're to meet them in the King's courtroom, if you feel up to it after your… outing."

Aramis took a deep breath, his hand going to his wounded side. "I believe I can manage."

Stiffly, he maneuvered himself back to the edge of the bed and reached down for his boots. Seeing his difficulty, Porthos crouched down to help, then sat back, his head bowed, considering what to say to break the tense silence.

Aramis waited quietly.

"I'm happy for you, 'Mis," Porthos said finally. Looking up, he was pleased to see a shadow of the smile return to his friend's face. "I just don't want to see you hurt, is all."

Aramis nodded, his expression one of fond exasperation. "I know, my friend." He raised a hand and placed in on Porthos' shoulder. "And I appreciate you looking out for me. But…" he took a deep breath, his smile returning full force, "it was a moment I shall cherish for the rest of my life. Please, share it with me, just for now."

Porthos patted his friend's arm before rising to his feet and helping Aramis to stand. "I'll expect you to tell me all about it, mon frere – after we meet with the King." At the Spaniard's emphatic nod, Porthos huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes. "And do me a favor, will ya? Stop grinning like a lovesick fool? No wounded man should be so happy."

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Treville entered the King's outer chambers just as Athos and d'Artagnan found their way from the East wing. Looking around, Athos was disappointed to see the Captain alone.

"Where is Rocheforte?"

Treville held up a hand. "He's being escorted as we speak. The Comte did not look favorably upon the request for his presence."

D'Aatagnan snorted a laugh. "That sounds like someone with a guilty conscience to me."

Athos pursed his lips, his eyes on the door leading from the portico. "I would agree if I believed Rochefort truly had a conscience."

Footsteps echoing on the pathway outside heralded the arrival of the man in question.

As the guard led the short, blond man through the archway, Rochefort's eyes locked with Athos, resentment clouding his face.

"This is what I would expect from you, Le Fere," he spat. Dismissing Athos with a sneer, he turned to Treville and glared at him indignantly. "I resent being treated like a common criminal, Captain. I demand to see the King!"

Treville bowed stiffly, his demeanor one of calm acceptance. "I am happy to accommodate, Comte. We are waiting for His Majesty now."

Taken aback by the Captain's easy acceptance, Rochefort squared his shoulders and turned his attention back to Athos. "What is this about? You Musketeers have no authority over me."

Athos inclined his head in agreement. "That may be true, Comte, but we are responsible for the security of the King and have the power to bring to justice any and all parties we deem to be a threat to that security."

"I am no threat to the King."

"Perhaps not, but we have reason to believe you incited the men who attacked the palace."

Rochefort snorted derisively, continuing his litany of denial. "That is preposterous. You have no evidence to support this ridiculous theory. If you recall, I shot the bandit who was trying to kill you. I saved your life!"

"You eliminated the last man you believed could connect you to the crime," Athos corrected. "Unfortunately for you, there are others back in Rouen who can identify you."

"No man in Rouen will speak against me."

Before anyone could respond, Porthos entered the hallway, leading a pale but very much alive Aramis. The latter was moving slowly, his right hand pressing against his left side, his eyes pinched in pain, but he was smiling as he met his friends' gazes, obviously as happy to see them as they were to see him.

With a glance at Treville, Athos followed d'Artagnan across the short distance to greet their wounded comrade in private.

"Aramis!" d'Artagnan clapped a hand on the Spaniard's shoulder. "It is good to see you, You look much better than the last time we laid eyes on you."

Athos stopped in front of the wounded man, his eyes raking over him head to toe. "Much better," he agreed, "But still in need of rest."

Aramis tipped his head in acknowledgment. "Nothing a few days of peace and quiet won't mend."

"Both plentiful back at the garrison."

Aramis' eyes widened at the warning in Athos' tone and exchanged a glance with Porthos who simply shrugged in response.

"I bet you'll miss the luxury of the palace, though," d'Artagnan teased innocently

Porthos coughed to cover his laugh and Athos rolled his eyes. "More than you know," Aramis agreed, wistfully slapping the young man on the back. "More than you know."

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

It wasn't long before they were brought before the King. Louis was perched upon his high-backed chair, Anne seated at his left, Cardinal Mazarin standing slightly behind to his right. The monarch leaned forward, obviously eager to get to the matter at hand.

"Captain Treville, you have news of the unsavory attack on my palace?"

Treville stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Yes, your Majesty." He indicated for Athos and d'Artagnan to step forward. "It was these men who uncovered the plot that led to the attack. I will let them explain their findings."

"Very well," Louis turned his limited attention to Athos. "Please, tell me what you have learned."

"We discovered the identity of one of the bandits through a letter we found on his person. The letter was addressed to his wife explaining what had happened in case he failed to return. We tracked down the Madame and learned the men of the area had been incited to attack by none other than the Comte de Rochefort."

"Lies," Rochefort broke in, twisting away from the guard who had been holding him back. "These are all lies, Your Majesty. I am loyal to the Crown and would never –"

"Will someone please silence this man?" Louis commanded.

"With pleasure." Porthos drew his main gauche and placed it menacingly against the smaller man's neck. "I believe my friend was talkin'," he growled at the Comte.

Athos nodded his appreciation before continuing.

"As I was saying, Your Majesty. The bandit's widow was able to describe the man who'd provoked the men of the village to take such drastic action. She described the Comte right down to the scar on his cheek and the ruby clasp on his cloak."

Louis sat back, his eyes shifting to Rochefort. After a few moments, he waved a hand, ordering Porthos to remove the knife from the Comte's neck.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Comte?"

Rochefort physically composed himself, shaking off the larger Musketeers grip and straightening his cloak. "I do not deny speaking with the men of Rouen, Your Majesty. They were already angry at the thought of their substantial taxes being raised. But, I assure you, it was never you they intended to harm." His narrow eyes shifted to Mazarin, still standing next to Louis' throne and he raised a hand to point dramatically at the Cardinal. "The men of Rouen were loyal to the King and to Cardinal Richelieu. Their intent was to punish the man responsible for the Cardinal's murder."

Mazarin smiled coldly, laughing as he nodded toward Aramis who was leaning against d'Artagnan for support. "Then it looks as if they succeeded in their quest."

Athos realized Mazarin wasn't looking at Rochefort, but past him and followed the Cardinal's line of sight to Aramis. The wounded Musketeer stared back, apprehension showing in his dark eyes.

"Aramis had nothing to do with the Cardinal's death," Like Athos, Anne had understood Mazarin's accusation and immediately came to Aramis' defense.

Louis took her hand and squeezed it affectionately. "The Queen is quite right, Cardinal. We have already made it very clear that Captain Treville and his men are above suspicion in this incident."

Mazarin bowed his head, a smile of triumph playing on his lips. "As you wish, Sire. My apologies, Monsieur Aramis." He dipped his head to the Musketeer before turning to Anne. "I regret that my insistence has upset you, Your Majesty."

Anne didn't respond, but sat back, carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone else in the courtroom.

"Now," Louis redirected their attention back to the matter at hand. "It seems the Comte has just confessed to the crime." He leaned back and tilted his head back toward Mazarin. "Since it seems you were the one he deemed to harm, Cardinal, I believe it should be you who decides his fate."

Mazarin looked down his nose at Rochefort, his eyes narrowing as he took in the angry man before him. "It seems the Comte needs to learn his place. I would suggest his lands and title be revoked and returned to the Crown as well as five years in the bastille."

Louis considered the sentence for a moment then nodded his approval. "The Cardinal has spoken. The sentence will be carried out immediately." He waved a hand as if dismissing something distasteful. "Take him away."

Athos watched as Rochefort was led away, sighing in satisfaction as the man glared at him from over his shoulder. He could not find it in him to feel any kind of sympathy for the man. It would be difficult for someone of Rochefort's breeding inside Paris' best known prison, but it was no less than he deserved. It had been a long time coming, but Athos prayed Frederick's spirit could rest easy now that justice had been served.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

As they made their way from the court, Louis was called aside by one of his ministers, bidding Anne to await him near the door. As she stood alone, Mazarin approached and she reluctantly raised her eyes, shivering at the cold grin on the Cardinal's face.

"I would like to take the opportunity to apologize once again, Your Majesty," he said reverently. "I did not mean to offend you."

"I accept your apology, Cardinal." She smiled cordially, expecting the man to take his leave, but he hesitated as if there were something else he wanted to say. Anne sighed and let her gaze shift to Louis, who was still conferring with the minister. Mazarin didn't make her as uncomfortable as she'd been in Richelieu's presence, but there was something about him that made her wary.

"Your patronage of the Musketeer Aramis is admirable," Mazarin continued, "but, if I may caution Your Majesty, you should take care that it is not taken the wrong way."

Anne looked at him sharply. "I don't think I like your insinuation, Cardinal."

Mazarin held up a hand in supplication. "I intend no disrespect. I, of course, understand your devotion is genuine, but…"

Anne's heart was beating rapidly in her chest, her breath catching in her throat.

"… there are others who would see your attachment as something more… dissolute."

Anne gasped, her eyes flaring at the audacity of the man. "I think you forget your place, Cardinal."

Mazain immediately backed down, bowing contritely. "Again, my apologies. I am only concerned for your welfare. If you will excuse me."

Anne watched him go, a hand to her chest, trying to control her panic. Did Mazarin know? Did he suspect or was her guilt making her overly anxious? Either way, she now had to consider him a threat. To her, to the Dauphin, and to Aramis.

She jumped, startled when Louis placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you all right, my dear?"

She feigned a smile, hoping her husband would not see past her deception. "Of course, Sire. I'm just tired. If you don't mind, I'd like to retire to my chambers for a rest."

"Of course," Louis said bringing her hand to his lips for a chaste kiss. He grinned up at her through dark lashes. "May I come to you later?"

She nodded, her heart sinking. Her mind flashed to Aramis' handsome face, longing to feel his arms around her, but beginning to accept it was a dream she would never know again. It couldn't be. Not if they were to survive. She shook the vision of the strong, charming Musketeer from her head and tried to return her husband's look of affection, resigned to her duty as Queen. "I shall look forward to it, Sire."

Louis kissed her cheek and she hurried down the hall.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

As soon as he stepped into his office, Cardinal Mazarin knew he wasn't alone. Although it had been many years since he'd lived the life of a soldier, he was proud that he still retained some of the skills he'd honed throughout an illustrious career as a warrior for the Vatican. The scent of jasmine lingered in the air and he smiled as the rustle of fabric heralded the approach of his favorite agent.

"You are far too beautiful a woman to be confined to the shadows, Milady."

The brunette slinked out from the dark recesses of the room, sliding lithely across the stone floor.

"Considering my enemies, the shadows are a more comfortable place for the moment."

Mazarin smiled as she brushed a hand across his back. "Ah, my dear. You worry too much. You are now under my protection. You need fear no one."

Milady tilted her head in appreciation. "While I welcome your assurances, Your Eminence, I have heard such promises before – most recently from your predecessor. I find it prudent to remain cautious despite your pledge of protection."

Mazarin couldn't argue with her logic. "Very well, Milady. Someday you will tell me who has scarred you so."

Although she knew he was speaking figuratively, Miady's hand went to her neck, rubbing against the silk ribbon that hid the faint mark beneath. "Someday, Cardinal. But not today."

"As you wish."

Milady gracefully slipped onto the upholstered chair in front of the Cardinal's desk, looking at him expectantly. "I assume you did not ask me here for small talk?"

"Right to the point, yes?" Mazarin circled the elaborate wooden desk and took a seat in the high-backed chair behind it. "That is one of the things I find refreshing about you."

She smiled demurely at the compliment.

"I assume you know what went on inside the King's courtroom?"

Milady had been able to find many passages that allowed her to move about the castle freely without being seen. He knew she had been a favorite of Richelieu's, entrusted with many secrets, some of which he was still learning. The woman was an asset, but he found himself reluctant to trust her completely. Despite her eagerness to fulfill the tasks he'd requested of her, Milady de Winter was a woman shrouded in mystery, an intriguing mix of allure and danger that appealed to his darker ambitions.

Milady nodded her head and straightened her voluptuous skirt. "I know that you've let a golden opportunity slip through your fingers."

Mazarin's brows rose, intrigued. "And which opportunity would this be?"

"Rochefort," she responded. "He's a fool, but he is a loyal fool. And he's someone who could be of use to us."

"He tried to have me killed," Mazarin argued.

Milady shrugged her creamy shoulders. "Only because he believes you orchestrated Richelieu's death."

Mazarin chuckled humorlessly. "In case you've forgotten, Milady. I did."

She nodded, arching one brow as she looked at him pointedly. "He doesn't have to know that," she offered. "We just need to give him a different target for his aggression."

"And just who would you suggest?"

"The Musketeer. Aramis."

Mazarin shook his head. "The King and the Queen have placed Aramis above suspicion – though I believe the Queen's interest in her stalwart champion runs deeper than she would like to admit."

"Do you think they're having an affair?"

Mazarin sighed and sat back, leaning an elbow on the arm of his chair. "I don't know. There's something there, but I don't have any proof."

"It's no matter. I can convince Rochefort to join our side. He has no love for the Musketeers, especially Aramis' friend, Athos. It shouldn't be difficult to turn his allegiance if he's promised an opportunity to retaliate against the men who discredited him."

"Do you think you'll be able to control him?"

Milady laughed deep in her throat, the sound exciting him despite his knowledge of her nature. "I can handle Rochefort. I can have him eating out of my hand. Just say the word and he's ours."

Mazarin studied her face, taking in the confidence shining in her eyes. Milady was so sure of herself and he found her conviction intoxicating.

"Fine," he agreed. "I hope you can sway him from his vengeance."

"I don't intend to sway his retribution," she said, rising from the chair and heading for the side door, "simply redirect it."

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Anne hadn't realized she found her way to the portico that ran alongside the east wing of the palace until she felt the cool spring air on her face. She'd spent the previous night lost in thought after the King had retired to his own chambers after –

She shivered. She'd rather not think of what had happened right now.

As she approached the archway, she was surprised to see Aramis and Porthos slowly making their way from the hallway. Aramis was fully dressed, though he was carrying his weapons belt in deference to his wounded side. She had been aware that Daquin was allowing the Musketeer to leave his care, she had just not accepted that it would mean he'd be leaving hers.

"Your Majesty," Porthos bowed as she approached. She clasped the golden cross she wore, knowing its twin was nestled against Aramis' chest.

"Porthos," she smiled, tilting her head in greeting. She let her gaze slide to the other man, standing quietly next to his friend. "I am pleased to see you looking so well," she said softly.

Aramis bowed slightly. "It is because of the excellent care your generosity afforded me, Your Majesty."

They stood in awkward silence for a moment before Porthos cleared his throat and excused himself, claiming to have forgotten his hat in Aramis' room. The fact that his hat was clenched in his hand was not mentioned by anyone. As soon as the big man was gone, Aramis stepped closer, looking at her in concern.

"Is there something wrong? Has someone upset you?"

Anne started, chastising herself for being read so easily. She did not want him to know of the Cardinal's insinuations. After the threat of Richelieu had been removed, they had both breathed a bit easier. It wouldn't be fair, especially in his weakened state, to burden him with this new threat.

"I'm fine," she assured him, calling upon the acting skills she'd honed since childhood. "It's you I am worried about. Are you sure you should be moving so much this soon?"

Aramis smiled softly at the concern in her voice. "I've been given leave by Daquin to return to the garrison. Although it is not quite as grand, it is home. Porthos will make sure I rest even if he has to sit on me to make it happen."

She laughed, knowing it was what he had hoped for, but she knew her forced cheerfulness wouldn't fool him.

"There is something, isn't there?" He moved closer and she took a step back, her heart breaking at the bewilderment on his face.

"I'm sorry, Aramis," she said in a choked voice. "But this cannot continue."

He shook his head, uncertain, his eyes widening in confusion at her behavior. "What cannot continue? I don't understand."

She turned from him, not able to meet his dark eyes. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

He reached out and she felt his hand brush her arm but she shook her head and stepped out of his reach. "I am happy you will recover." She forced herself to look at him, her throat tightening at his forlorn expression. "And I'm glad I was able to give you a moment with your son, but it must end here, Aramis. He can never be yours. He can never be ours. For his sake, and for your own, you must find a way to let us go."

Aramis swallowed hard and when he spoke his voice was choked with emotion. "You can't ask that of me."

"We have no choice."

He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head in defeat. "Do you regret what we did?"

She shook her head. "No," she whispered. "Never. And I will think of you whenever I see our son smile. But…" she stopped as her voice broke and she fought for control. She knew she was shattering this good man's heart, but she would rather have him alive and heartbroken than dead and ruined. "Goodbye, Aramis." She placed a kiss on his cheek, knowing it was a risk, but finding she could not leave without one last touch. As she walked away she tasted the salt of his tear on her lips, knowing it was a choice she would forever regret.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Porthos hung back until the Queen was out of sight, ducking into an archway further down the portico. He looked back at his friend's dejected form, sighing as he realized what had just transpired.

Though she had done what she'd had to do – what he'd hoped she'd do – Porthos still felt a surge of anger at the Queen for hurting his friend. Aramis stood, his head down, his eyes closed tightly, his hat and belt clutched tightly in his fists. It wasn't enough the man was still in pain physically, now he was wounded emotionally and bleeding out right before his eyes.

Slowly he made his way across the walkway, making as much noise as possible to announce his approach.

He dipped his head to get a look at Aramis' face, his heart breaking to see the devastation written on the familiar features.

"Aramis?"

The Spaniard opened his eyes and Porthos breath caught in his throat at the grief in the dark depths.

"Oh, 'Mis," he breathed, not knowing how to help his friend. He put a hand around his shoulders and pulled him close, running a hand across the array of curls on the bowed head. "What d'ya say we get out of here, huh?"

He felt the head beneath his hand move and he took it as agreement. Reaching down, he pulled Aramis hat from his hand, wincing at how misshapen it had become. He straightened the felt as best he could and gently placed it on Aramis' head, pulling the brim down low to hide his eyes from anyone who may pass.

Then, with a hand around his friend's shoulders, he led him home.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Milady stepped up to the iron bars, a perfumed handkerchief held to her face to disguise the rank smell of the prison. As the guard unlocked the cell door, she stepped inside, nodding to him to leave. Reluctantly, the guard shrugged and followed her orders.

As she stepped into the light shining down from the high thin window, her eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness and she directed her attention to the shadowy shape sitting against the dank wall.

"Comtess de la Fere," a scratchy voice drawled from the shadows. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Milady removed the handkerchief and smiled, taking in the disheveled form of the former Comte de Rochefort sprawled on the dirt floor of the cell. His hair was greasy and matted and his clothes were encrusted with filth. He looked defeated, yet his voice still dripped with contempt.

"I'm no longer a comtess," Milady corrected. "My husband ordered my death. As far as I'm concerned, that nullifies any marriage vows I once made."

Rochefort nodded. "Perhaps we have some things in common. It seems neither of us has had the good luck to best your husband."

She stepped closer and squatted down directly in front of him. Her eyes glittered and one corner of her mouth rose in a devious grin. "I think our luck is about to change."

The End…. For now.

So there you have it! Story no. 2 finished. The next installment "Where the Heart Is" will be up as soon as it is edited and complete, so stay tuned! I would love to hear any comments or questions you may have, so feel free to let me know how I'm doing. Thanks for reading!