Episode 2

In the early hours of the morning, elsewhere in Paris...

The sun poured through the windows and hit the green cloth of the table where the last hand had been played, and the winner gathered his winnings.

“Well, with this hand, I’m done. After this, I’ll be begging for charity,” said one of the young men present, trying to hide his anxiety over having lost more than he could afford. Although he was an aristocrat, he depended on the allowance his mother sent without his father’s knowledge. He stretched the soft velvet of his new coat and reclined in his chair, relieved that no one commented on his exit.

“You’ve been very lucky today, Devereux,” grumbled Sir Nigel, one of the representatives of the crown on French soil. After all, diplomacy still worked, and he poured himself a generous measure of brandy, drinking it all in one go. “But, then again, it’s always by your side. They say you’ve made a pact with Satan, and now I’m starting to believe it,” he continued, with an unpleasant tone, mentally calculating all that he had lost.

He slumped against the back of his chair, staring at the others present. His shirt’s collar and cuffs were all crumpled from the number of times he had pulled at his neck to loosen it, and his golden brocade waistcoat was unbuttoned to ease the bulging stomach that hung over his tight belt. In general, he looked exactly like what he was: a debauched man.

“Shall we play another round?” he asked, with great interest, fixing his gaze on the player sitting across from him.

“I’m absolutely willing to let you win back what you lost, gentlemen,” replied Lord Devereux in a relaxed tone, straightening the lace cuffs of his shirt with a simple flick of his wrist. He slowly looked around the table at each of the present players and decided to cast the bait that had brought him here.

“Sir Nigel, if you think I’m that lucky, how about we set up a game with the Royal Couple? From what I’ve heard, they never lose.” he said, flashing a wide smile that showed his white teeth, waiting for the response. The other players, upon hearing this suggestion, immediately started talking excitedly, agreeing that it was an excellent idea, and that it would be worth betting on who would win such a game. Sir Nigel felt cornered and flushed a few shades of pink, finally settling on a pale rose. But seeing the enthusiasm of the gentlemen around him, he realized that he had only one solution. Making a grimace, he said, “Devereux, I regret that I must be the one to give you this bad news, and I ask you and the present company to not repeat what I’m about to say, as I’ve learned this in the strictest confidence. But the “Royal Couple” no longer exists; they both passed away last night.”

“What? But there was no news of that, nothing appeared in the papers!” said Lord Danvres, a middle-aged widower who enjoyed a good game.

“That’s why I’m requesting your discretion. From what I’ve been told, they owed money everywhere. The creditors are trying to salvage what they can to cover the debts.”

“But didn’t they have heirs? Someone to settle the accounts with?” asked Devereux.

“From what I’ve been informed, they had a daughter, but she disappeared without a trace. It’s a disgrace, that’s what it is,” Sir Nigel replied.

A buzz filled the air as everyone began speaking at once about this news. Devereux leaned back and tuned out the comments. That the Royal Couple had died, he already knew, and it wasn’t news. What they hadn’t told him was that there was a daughter. He knew that Scorpio had been the one to kill them, though he hadn’t witnessed it—the murder of Lord Edmund de Lyons and the fire that killed the wife and the remaining servants bore his trademark cruelty. But the existence of this daughter changed everything. When he had visited the mansion and inquired about what had happened, they had told him, “The ladies died in the fire, and there are no heirs.” Well, Sir Nigel had just contradicted that statement—there was a daughter, and she was alive. And she was the one who likely had the documents Scorpio wanted. So, she was in mortal danger.

Meanwhile, Sir Nigel had managed to convince the other gentlemen to start a new game, to which Devereux joined, but with much less enthusiasm, for now he had a new objective in a different game he was playing: finding Edmund de Lyons' daughter.

***

On the way to Saint-Malo...

Tabitha was tired of traveling by carriage. After all, why hadn't her parents chosen a port closer to Paris? What was the need to travel the entire length of France to reach Saint-Malo? It was madness. She had already been traveling for at least three days, and each day brought more aches as she bounced from side to side on roads that seemed more suited to animals than people.

The heat had been unbearable, but the wind that started to blow mid-morning, tearing leaves off the trees and sending them flying toward the dark hills in the distance, was a thousand times worse. After that came a drizzle, which gradually turned into heavy rain. Every time she pulled the curtain aside to see where they were, she noticed the landscape around her growing more desolate and darker in the fading afternoon light.

During those three days, they had not seen a soul, except at night when they reached the places where they would stay. Amélie, her companion, said nothing, only furrowing her brow whenever Tabitha made a comment about the conditions of the trip or asked questions about her parents.