sea
monster
knocked
it
loose.”
She lost
track of
what
she was
saying.
“You
should
see the
sea
monster.
You will
see it!”
I’m
still too
excited
to go to
sleep,
Marie-Jo
sèphe
thought.
Then, a
moment
later,
Odelette
laid her
heavy
braid
across
her
shoulde
r.
Marie-Jo
sèphe
had
already
dozed,
and had
not felt
Odelette
finish
her hair.
Odelette
blew
out the
candle.
The
smoke
tinged
the air
with
burned
tallow.
A
shadow
in the
darknes
s,
Odelette
moved
toward
the
window
.
“Le
ave it
open,”
Marie-Jo
sèphe
said,
half
asleep.
“It’s
so cold,
Mlle
Marie.”
“W
e must
get used
to it.”
Od
elette
slipped
into
bed, a
sweet
warmth
beside
Marie-Jo
sèphe.
Marie-Jo
sèphe
hugged
her.
“I’
m so
glad to
have
you
back
with
me.”
“Yo
u might
have
sold
me,”
Odelette
whisper
ed.
“Ne
ver!”
Marie-Jo
sèphe
did not
admit,
to
Odelette
, how
close
she had
come in
the
convent
to
repent
of
owning
a slave.
She did
repent.
The
argume
nts had
convinc
ed her
and
guilt
now
troubled
her. She
had
underst
ood in
time
that the
argume
nts were
meant to
persuad
e her to
sell
Odelette
, not to
free her.
The
sisters
thought
Odelette
’s
abilities
too
refined
for the
work in
a
convent,
and
would
have
preferre
d the
money
her sale
would
have
brought.
I
must
free her,
Marie-Jo
sèphe
thought.
But if I
free her
now, I
can only
send her
out into
the
world, a
young
woman
alone
and
without
resource
s. Like
me, but
without
the
protecti
on of
good
family
or a
brother,
without
the
friendsh
ip of the
King.
Her
only
resource
is her
beauty.
“I’ll
never
sell
you,”
she said
again.
“You’ll
be mine,
or you’ll
be free,
but
you’ll
never
belong
to
another.
”
A
phrase
of
music,
exquisit
ely
complex
, soared
in and
filled
the air
with
sorrow.
“Do
n’t cry,
Mlle
Marie,”
Odelette
whisper
ed. She
brushed
the tears
from
Marie-Jo
sèphe’s
cheeks.
“Our
fortunes
have
changed
.”
Can
you
hear the
singing?
Marie-Jo
sèphe
asked.
Did
I ask the
question
?
Marie-Jo
sèphe
wonder
ed. Or
did I
only
dream
it? Do I
hear the
sea
monster’
s song,
or do I
dream
it, too?
oOo
A
dreadful
racket of
trampin
g boots,
rattling
swords,
and
loud
voices
woke
Marie-Jo
sèphe.
She
tried to
make it
a dream
— but
she had
been
having a
different
dream.
Hercule
s stared
toward
the
door,
his eyes
reflectin
g the
faint
light, his
tail
twitchin
g
angrily.
“Ml
le
Marie?”
Odelette
sat up,
wide
awake.
“Go
back to
sleep,
I’m sure
it’s
nothing.
”
Od
elette
burrowe
d under
the
covers,
peeking
out
curiousl
y.
“Fat
her de la
Croix!”
So
meone
pounde
d on the
door of
Yves’
room.
Marie-Jo
sèphe
flung off
the
bedcloth
es and
snatche
d
Lorraine
’s cloak
from the
dress
stand.
She
opened
the door
to the
corridor.
“Be
quiet!
You’ll
wake
my
brother!
”
Tw
o of the
King’s
Muskete
ers
filled
the low,
narrow
hallway,
the
plumes
of their
hats
brushin
g the
ceiling,
their
swords
banging
the
woodw
ork
when
they
turned.
Mud
from
their
boots
clumpe
d on the
carpet.
The
smoke
of their
torch
smudge
d the
ceiling.
Burning
pitch
overcam
e the
odors of
urine,
sweat,
and
mildew.
“W
e must
wake
him,
madem
oiselle.”
The
shorter
of the
two was
still a
head
taller
than
Marie-Jo
sèphe.
“The sea
monster
— the
tent is
full of
demons!
”
Indoors,
and in a
lady’s
presenc
e, the
muskete
er
corporal
snatche
d off his
hat.
Yve
s’ door
opened.
He
peered
out
sleepily,
his dark
hair
tousled
and his
cassock
buttone
d
partway
and
crooked.
“De mons?
Nonsens e.”
“W
e heard it — leathery wings flapping —”
“W
e