1628

Anna let her hand skim the surface of the sea of wheat filling the field she was walking through as her exhausted horse wearily dragged itself along behind her.

"Not much further, Alexandre." She smiled at the animal who huffed in response. "Yes, I know I've said that a few times today, but this time…" She pointed to a tiny house at the edge of the field. "…I mean it."

The horse looked up and after a moment of appearing to digest her words, he allowed her to rub his head before they continued across the wheat and towards the home.

"Mademoiselle!" The door of the house flung open as Anna guided her horse towards a small trough of water.

"Monsieur Bertrand, I presume?" She smiled at the man as she removed various bags from Alexandre's back. "I apologise for being a day late, we took a wrong turn." She sighed as Alexandre turned to stare at her as if with a raised eyebrow. "I mean, I took a wrong turn; my horse's sense of direction is excellent – I should learn to trust it more."

"It is of no problem, Mademoiselle." He assured her as he ushered her inside. "You will rest here tonight before I introduce you to my brother in the morn."

"Thank you, Monsieur." She touched his hand gratefully. "I trust everything is sorted for my journey?"

"Of course, Mademoiselle: I pride myself on being the best courier in France." He gave a little bow as he pulled out a chair for her at his table.

"Did your brother manage to procure me a dress?" She asked as he placed a steaming bowl of stew in front of her.

"Indeed, Mademoiselle: it is at his house waiting for you to change tomorrow."

"Excellent." She reached out to touch his hand once again. "France thanks you for your service, Bertrand."

The sun was low in the sky as Anna led her horse across Bertrand's land as they followed the man towards a small house remarkably similar to the one they had left minutes earlier.

"Your clothes are in the bedroom; I will hold your horse as I check my brother has everything you will need." Anna nodded to the man before ducking into the house and locating the bedroom.

She locked the rickety door behind her before inspecting the items carefully laid out for her. With a sigh she shed the day dress she had travelled in and slowly assembled the foreign fashions onto her body. Glancing in the smudged mirror, she coiled her hair in the way she had been instructed and applied the little make-up she had been able to procure before tying a string of pearls around her slender neck.

"No going back now." She whispered as she took in her new appearance. "I am ready." She called out as she opened the door and left the small room.

"Ah, wonderful!" She was greeted by two identical men. "Mademoiselle, allow me to introduce me brother; Blaise." She inclined her head towards the silent brother. "Here are your papers, Mademoiselle." Bertrand handed a small pile of papers, tied with a red ribbon. "I do believe they are some our finest work."

"Excellent." She slipped them into one of Alexandre's saddle-bags. "And these will definitely get me into court?"

"I foresee no problems, Mademoiselle." Bertrand assured her. "Now, I apologise for my haste but I must leave and you must be setting off. Bonne chance, Mademoiselle!"

She watched as the Frenchman disappeared across the field quicker than she imagined a man of his age should move before turning her attention to Blaise.

"Ready?"

"Of course." He helped her into her saddle. "And may I be the first to say: welcome to Spain, Señorita."

Blaise had led her as far as he could and the pair had parted ways in a tiny village a few days ride from the border.

Despite not knowing exactly where she was going and having limited experience speaking the foreign language; Anna managed to eventually arrive, unscathed, in Madrid.

She wandered through the markets, allowing herself to be immersed in the Spanish culture and language and pleasing herself when the locals understood her. She practised the speech she had prepared for her debut in the Spanish court every night before curling up in an armchair beside the fireplace in her lodgings and searching for any last minute pearls of wisdom from the journals she had brought with her.

The Spanish Princess is of remarkable beauty and wisdom, it is a joy to prepare her for her wedding in Paris. I am confident that Princess Anne will be a perfect Queen for France; her knowledge of foreign policies and tactical decisions is unparalleled amongst the other women of her class, indeed, it is unparalleled amongst her gender.

I am still unsure of my opinion of Spain; the weather is pleasant, with less rain than France, yet I still yearn for the cobbled streets of Paris and the viscous tongues of the merchants as they sell their wares in my native tongue. The palace is gaudy and simply does not have the same elegance as the Louvre, yet I find the court here to be rather admirable in the fact that they don't gossip as publicly as ours.

I received word from the Cardinal today, the Musketeers are still making a nuisance of themselves and no-one seems to be putting a stop to it – they will be my first mission whence I return. Although, my permanent return to the Cardinal's side may be postponed further – I am told he has another mission for me.

Alas, I am needed,
Bonne Nuit or as they say here; Buena Noches.

Anna found comfort in the Comte de Rochefort's words – if a man as patriotic and as undeniably French as he could find a place in the Spanish court, perhaps it would be easier than anticipated to gain a place herself. Granted, all those years ago when Rochefort had been sent, all parties knew he was French while she was trying to lie her way in, but the female Musketeer had hope.

She whispered her speech once more before extinguishing the candle on her bedside and letting he soft crackle of the fire lull her to sleep: tomorrow she made her appearance in the royal court of Philip IV of Spain.

Anna's reflection was decidedly overdressed compared to the Musketeer uniform she typically wore when called into the French court. She poked at the intricate beading covering her bodice and sighed; it had been a long time since she had worn anything resembling pearls and diamonds but, she had to admit, she looked good.

Spending the previous week in the Spanish sun had given skin a glow she had not acquired since her days lounging at the Chateau, and her hair was more golden than ever as it gleamed from its intricate coil atop her head.

After a final glance in the tiny mirror, she snagged a small, folded note from her dresser and exited her lodgings, accepting a hand into the waiting carriage.

"Where to, Señorita?"

"The palace." Ignoring his raised eyebrow, she leant forward from her seat and slid closed the small window separating her from the driver and allowed herself to be plunged into darkness.

Eyeing the thickness of the curtains separating her from the people eyeing the carriage as it rolled through the streets, she unfolded the small note and stared at the inked words, searching for any sign of its origin before leaning back into the plush fabric covering the inside of her vehicle and allowing its gentle rocking to soothe her nerves as the carriage rolled to a stop.

"What is the meaning of this?" She wrenched open the flimsy curtains to stare at the palace guards blocking her entrance. "Explain yourself." She withheld a smirk as the guard flinched at her tone and was impressed with her ability to adopt the persona of Senorita Abaroa at the drop of a hat.

She anticipated the guard's questions and instead of appeasing him, she held out the delicately folded note and gave him a flirty smile. He hesitantly opened the note and quickly waved them through as he read the message within.

"My apologies, Senorita!" He called behind the carriage as it entered the courtyard.

She easily bypassed any and all queries through the palace with a simple flicker of the seal on the bottom of her note and at once found herself waiting in a deserted hall in the centre of the palace.

Her plan rested entirely on the King's ability to remember the faces of the women he regularly called to the palace after seeing them on the stage. It was well known that the man had a penchant for actresses and that all of his mistresses once graced the stage.

She had asked Bertram and his brother to create her the perfect identity; Senorita Abaroa had a humble upbringing but once she moved to Madrid she was at once accepted onto the stage where it is rumoured she was introduced to the King.

The note she had passed on to the guard at the checkpoint said so and the signature on the bottom was so authentic that she wondered where Bertram and Blaise had managed to learn it.

"Senorita Abaroa." She dropped into the lowest curtsy she could manage as the double doors opposite her opened and a man with an extraordinary moustache entered the room followed by who Anna could only assume was his loyal Chief Minister – Olivares.

"Majestad…" The language still felt foreign on her tongue as she addressed the King. "…me siento honrado de ser llamado a usted." He smiled at her before taking her hand and leading her to her feet.

"It is I who should be honoured, Senorita, to have such an accomplished actress in my humble home." He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand as she smiled bashfully at him, her lashes fluttering. "Walk with me." He instructed, clasping his hands behind his back and leading her further into the palace, the grand doors slamming shut behind them.