Madeleine was waiting in the king's chambers. The moment Élodie entered, Madeleine turned.
"Your Highness," Élodie whispered.
"Where is he?" Madeleine asked, already moving closer.
Élodie glanced toward the door, making sure no one had followed her. "He is in Lady Bella's apartments."
"Lady Bella?" Madeleine repeated, her face tightening at once. "Why would he be there?"
Élodie kept her head bowed. "I do not know, Your Highness."
"The son is dead," Madeleine said sharply. "There is no reason for him to go back to her."
"That is where he is," Élodie said carefully.
Madeleine turned away, pacing once across the room.
Lady Bella.
Of course it would be Bella. The grieving favourite. The soft-eyed saint of courtly suffering. The woman everyone pitied, everyone excused. Even the king looked at her with that gentleness Madeleine had wanted for herself.
"Maybe it is nothing," Madeleine said at last, though she did not sound convinced. "Probably just small talk."
