Page 83 of The Thirteenth Child
Then Euphemia sniffed, and I saw her lower lip tremble.
“Oh, darling, no tears this morning,” Margaux said. “I can’t stand it.”
Leopold pushed the tray of croissants down the table. “Phemie, chin up, love. Papa wouldn’t want you sad today. Not with the healer here. She’s come to fix him.”
“Please, Mademoiselle Hazel,pleaseheal him.” Euphemia turned her large eyes to me, beseeching. “There have been so many who came, saying they could, but they all lied. You…” She paused, deep in thought. “I know you can.”
“I’ll try my best. Starting now.” I set my unused napkin down beside the cup and saucer, readying to leave. “If there are no other questions for me here, I really ought to get to work.”
The little girl’s fingers twisted together. “Will you tell him that we love him and we miss him?” Euphemia looked at me with such wistful hope.
My heart ached for her, to be quarantined from her father so soon after losing her mother. I nodded, and she pulled a bit of folded paper from her pocket. Her eyes were bright with tears.
“Do you think…do you think if I drew him a picture, you could give it to him?”
“Of course,” I promised quickly.
“When are you going to make me a picture, Phemie?” Leopoldasked, stealing her attention. “I want a painting on one of your biggest canvases.”
“My biggest one is only this big,” she said, approximating the size with her hands.
“Oh no, it’ll need to be much bigger than that. You know the one of the fox hunt in the great hall? That awful one Great-Uncle Bartholomew did?” She nodded. “You can just paint over that!”
I excused myself from the table as she began to laugh.
Catching my eye, Aloysius indicated I should follow him, before disappearing through a side door.
I hurried after him.
“It would be best if you took Mademoiselle Toussaint’s words to heart when dealing with His Royal Highness the prince. Very rarely does he say anything with complete seriousness.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
Aloysius bobbed his head, still looking fretful. “I would hate for certain words, most assuredly said in jest, to reach the ears of your godfather.”
“You might be surprised to learn how little the opinions of mortals matter to him. To any of them, really. But tell me more about the seer—Margaux? How did she find her way to court?”
He indicated that we make a turn, guiding us toward a set of stairs that looked vaguely familiar.
“Ah. Mademoiselle Toussaint. Her mother was a distant relation of Queen Aurélie’s. The queen wished for the girl to come serve as a companion for the princesses and act as spiritual counsel. I’m told she’s quite respected within the Holy First’s most inner circle.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Some even say she has been particularly blessed, that her visions come straight from the Holy Firstherself.”
I raised an eyebrow, fascinated. Though the temples all across Martissienes were filled every week with people praying for favor and good fortune, very few ever actually received a god’s blessing.
“Do you know anything else about her family?” I prodded, curious.
We crossed under one chandelier, then two, then went by the king’s portrait.
Aloysius frowned, thinking. “Lady Anne has quite a large brood. I believe Mademoiselle Toussaint once said she was her mother’s thirteenth.”
“Thirteenth?” I echoed with surprise. Her blessing made more sense now.
“Here we are,” Aloysius said, stopping in front of the massive carved doors.
He tapped on the dark wood, and for a moment, it sounded like my ghosts, trapped inside of my closet and pleading to be let out. A chill rippled through me, and I had the terrible thought that Kieron would be the one to open the king’s door, his skin flapping, white eyes roving over me as he took one staggering step toward—
“Mademoiselle Trépas?” Aloysius prompted, snapping me from the horrible daydream.
A footman stood at the open door, very much alive and very much not Kieron. Before he could usher me inside, I turned to the valet, keeping a light smile on my face. “I forgot to mention this earlier, but I’m going to need more salt.”
