An Affair of Poisons(74)
“You get the most adorable little wrinkle between your eyebrows when you’re anxious,” Josse says, nudging my shoulder with his.
I swat him with the book. “Focus, princeling! The wrinkle between my eyes is the last thing you should be thinking about.”
“Second to last. Because I also like the way you twirl your finger through that curl above your ear.”
I immediately drop my hand. His goading smile is so devilishly handsome, I either want to kiss him or punch him—I’m unsure which. “You’re impossible,” I hiss.
“Or am I a genius? For a moment, you forgot to be nervous.”
I blink up at him. I suppose I did.
“Whatever you’re planning, I’m sure it’s brilliant. And even if it’s not, I’ll fight anyone who disagrees.” He puts up his fists, and a smile steals across my lips. “Come on.”
After taking a deep breath, I stride to the front of the group and call them to attention. “Thank you for coming. We’ve recently learned of the Shadow Society’s plans to raze the fields in the Faubourg Saint-Germain. By greatly diminishing the rye and barley, the people will be forced to turn to my mother and the royal stores for support. Our rebellion will die—and thousands of starving souls along with it—unless we save the crops and reveal the Shadow Society’s plan. Then we shall be the saviors of the city, and hopefully those who have remained loyal to my mother will be turned to our cause instead. With the entire city behind us, we may have the strength to stand against them.”
Questions and suggestions fly at me—mostly the same worries we discussed at the outset—so Josse and Louis help me answer queries and make assurances. It’s most of our allies’ first time meeting Louis, and for all Josse worried about him “ruining everything,” the dauphin is doing splendidly. Everyone seems to hang on his words. They grin at his tattered doublet and seem to stand taller when he acknowledges their opinions.
“If we cannot fight the poisoners or prevent them from leaving the palace, how do we proceed?” Desgrez asks.
I hold up Father’s grimoire, the worn red leather catching the torchlight. “Through an alchemical process called fixation. My father studied it in depth and developed a powder resistant to flames. All we have to do is produce the powder and spread it over the crops before the Shadow Society sets them ablaze.”
“And when do they plan to do that?” the Marquis de Cessac calls.
“How long will it take to make the powder?” étienne asks.
“My informant can hold off for three days, which gives us two and a half days to produce and distribute the powder,” I say.
Ameline fixes me with a steely expression. “Can it be done?”
“Yes, but only if everyone contributes. Do you think you can convince the other fishwives to help? We’ll need a good many kettles.”
“Aye, aye. I’ll rally them straight away. Even those without a heart for rebellion won’t refuse if the alternative is starvation.”
“Excellent.” I rip an empty page from the back of Father’s grimoire, copy the recipe, and hand it off. “étienne …” I turn to her husband. “Can you recruit your fellow fishermen to help us distribute the powder? And you”—I look to the haberdasher and milk maid, representing the merchants from Les Halles—“can you assemble carts to carry the powder? They need to look like those that come and go from the market.”
They nod and set off, and the pressure on my chest—which felt as crushing as an iron cauldron—lifts considerably. I steal a glance at Josse, and his enthusiastic smile makes my stomach dip. I quickly look away before my cheeks grow any hotter.
“We’ll begin spreading the word,” Gavril says, “so a crowd will be present to witness La Voisin’s treachery and our miraculous powder.”
“And I’ll scrounge up tunics and hats and such, to ensure we look like a proper vendor train,” Desgrez offers.
“And myself and the Marquis de Cessac shall lead the expedition,” Louis adds excitedly.
“Perfect,” I say.
But as soon as our allies are out the door, Josse turns to Louis and says, “Absolutely not. You cannot lead us anywhere.”
His words echo around the shop, sharp as nails. Thankfully most of our allies are already down the street, but Ameline and étienne stop and turn on the bottom step. All eyes lock on Josse, and Louis doesn’t just stare—he shoots daggers of fire. The air is so thick with tension, I can scarcely breathe.
Devil’s horns, not again. “This is no time to—”
Louis cuts me off, his voice a low growl. “Why not, brother?”
“It’s too great a risk, of course.” Josse gives a flippant wave of his hand. “You must stay hidden.”
“We both know you’re not concerned for my well-being. Which makes me think the risk is to you and your pride. You’re worried the people will forget you the moment they see me.”
“I’m worried you’ll foul up our carefully laid plans and ruin everything. I could lead the mission just as easily and far more effectively.”
“I disagree. In order for the greater plan to succeed, the people need to see me and nobles like Cessac defending them, fighting with them.”
Josse buries his hands in his hair and looks to me, begging me to jump to his defense, but I bite my lower lip and glance at Louis. It’s a risk to let him leave the safety of our hideouts, but we’ll be there to assist and protect him, and I do think it would be good for the people to see him engaged in their struggles. I don my most pleading expression. “Perhaps we should allow the dauphin this chance. I’ve been working closely with him this past week, and I think you’ll find he’s far more competent—”