The Consequences of Champagne and Murder

Chapter Eleven - God, I Wish I Had the Plague

I woke with a heaving gasp like I’d broken straight through the surface of the sea. Something cool tickled  my hairline and neck, and I shivered, forcing my eyes open. I was underneath a series of yew trees in the courtyard, thick branches twisting overhead. Between the branches, pinpricks of stars twinkled like fireflies against the blackening sky. I let out a shaking breath and pressed my hand against my heart. Its beat was faint—but steady—beneath my fingertips. 

I tried to sit up, but I was so goddamn tired. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t sure where anyone was. I didn’t care that I was splayed on my back somewhere outside and not safely tucked in my bed. All I wanted was sleep. 

I was just closing my eyes, ready to succumb to slumber, when something poked me in my side. I cracked my eyes open to see Jacqueline hovering over me, her loose hair tickling my cheek. 

“Oh, God,” I croaked. “I truly have died and woken up in Hell.” 

Jacqueline, for once, looked worried. “You fainted.” 

“Yes. I have the plague.”

The worry in her face dissipated, and she blew out an annoyed breath, dark strands of hair fluttering around her face. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Let me alone, Hell demon.” I rolled over. “I wish to sleep.” 

Jacqueline grabbed me by the shoulder and yanked me back to face her. “I know it’s difficult, but you must wake up! We have more important matters at hand."

I started to groan, then stopped, lifting my head to better assess my surroundings. The Palais-Royal stood in front of us, the candles in each window lit and dancing behind orange-tinted glass. Save for a few carriages rolling by in the distance, there wasn’t another soul in sight. “Where is Renée?” 

“I brought you to this clearing because I thought it would benefit you to be somewhere cooler, and she went to fetch help.”

Though it felt as if someone had replaced all the bones in my body with boulders, I managed to raise myself to a standing position. The world spun around me, and for a moment, I feared I would faint a second time. I stumbled, and Jacqueline latched a hand around my wrist to steady me. 

“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked. “We can wait a few more moments until—”

I snatched my wrist from her grasp and turned away “Don’t act as if you understand any of this.” I pressed a hand against my chest, taking small, controlled breaths like Étienne had taught me to whenever I felt panicked. In and out, in and out. Like you’re a bird, preparing for its morning song. But thinking about Étienne only made my chest ache, and knowing Jacqueline was witnessing the whole ordeal made me want to melt into the dew-soaked grass, never to be seen again. 

And then I wasn’t embarrassed anymore—I was angry. None of us would even be in this predicament if Jacqueline hadn’t shown up at our home months ago looking for Étienne. My brother would have never been arrested and thrown into the Bastille. 

He would never have been sentenced to death. 

The desire to punch something overwhelmed me. To fling out my foot and kick it against the yew tree, over and over and over, until the brown bark chipped. But I was panicked, and my nerves were weak, and all an outburst like that would do was make everything worse. 

I turned to face Jacqueline, hand resting over my chest. My heart slammed against my palm. “You ruined everything.” 

Something flashed across her face. Worry, perhaps. Or shame. But before I was able to discern its meaning, she narrowed her eyes. “I was trying to help. I know what you’re going through right now.”