Lesage leads the procession, using his harmless magic to conjure flocks of exotic birds—indigo peacocks and marigold swans, pearl-gray doves that wing and flit above the crowd before dissipating like candle smoke. Mother smiles and waves from the back of Louis XIV’s white stallion. She throws alms to the people and directs Gris and the other servants as they distribute curatives. A select few peasants are even ushered forward by her guards to receive her “blessing.”
“Hail La Voisin!” the multitude chants. “Hail Lesage!”
Gris catches my eye as he hurries back and forth, loaded like a cart mule with bags and trays and bottles.See? All has been set to right.
I manage a smile for him, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. Of course I’m glad to see the work of the Shadow Society resuming, to see the people so overjoyed, but I feel apart from it. Never again will I experience the euphoria of watching two substances combine. Never will I feel the thrill of discovering a new remedy, the elation of knowing it will help someone who was otherwise without hope. How many people might I have saved if I hadn’t been so foolish? So careless? The ache in my chest feels like forceps squeezing my heart.
You will be a great alchemist one day.
“Quit looking so miserable,” Mother says through her teeth. “Smile. And wave.”
But I can do neither. I squirm in my saddle and wring my fingers through my horse’s mane. I look over at my sister, searching for what, I don’t know. But she’s too preoccupied with batting her eyelashes and blowing kisses to notice my plea. Abbé Guibourg ripples like a massive slug on my other side, and La Trianon trots behind me. I’ll find no comfort in any of them.
I let out a long breath. Gaiety reigns all around, but I feel listless and limp. Where do I fit in this world if not in the laboratory? Flaxen cords of panic wind around my throat like bonnet strings until I am coughing and choking. I teeter precariously over my horse’s neck.
Gris jogs up beside me and places a steadying hand on my leg. “You look like you’re going to fall. Are you unwell?”
I am far past unwell. I need to get down. Back to the laboratory. Away from all ofthis.I kick out of my stirrups, but Gris catches me around the waist and holds me in place.
“I know it’s crowded and chaotic, but I’m right here with you, Mira. Try to enjoy—”
Cannon fire rattles the sky like thunder.
Flames explode from the building to our right, and a blistering orange wave rolls toward us. Pain washes over my skin like scalding water and I know I’m screaming, but I only hear silence—as thick as clotted cream in my ears. Followed by ringing. A maddening, high-pitched keening.
My horse rears, and this time Gris isn’t there to catch me. I fall through the smoky air and dash my head against the cobbles. Blood wets my hair and dribbles down my neck. Hooves strike like lightning all around me. Balls of fire and shards of glass continue to erupt from where a church stood mere seconds before.
I grip my forehead to steady my vision, trying to comprehend what’s happened. It must be one of Lesage’s illusions. But then I spot him through the haze, cursing and clinging to his rearing horse.
If he isn’t behind this …
We’ve been attacked.
The Sun King’s bloated face fills my vision, followed by Madame de Montespan crashing into her pudding and Vendôme and his men, twisted and broken and retching in the grass.
I stare into the chaos, heart thudding, head throbbing. Thousands of Parisians flee in every direction. A mob the likes of which I’ve never seen. It would be so easy to get lost.
To disappear …
Before I realize what I’m doing, I steal a purple cloak off a motionless guard, throw the hood over my bleeding head, and vanish into the pandemonium.
6
JOSSE
Desgrez and I burst from the fiery skeleton of Notre-Dame de Bonne Nouvelle a breath before the roof collapses. White-hot ash and burning rocks pelt the rue de Richelieu like flaming arrows, but we charge through the cinders like knights of old, marching to battle. I toss my head back and whoop at the mayhem.
Such a pity Louis can’t see how brilliantly mypreposterousplan is coming along. Smoke chokes the street and people dart everywhere, screaming and shoving and fleeing for their lives. It looks like the world’s largest tavern brawl, which should provide ample time to race back to Madame Bissette’s, collect my siblings, and drive like the Devil through the blockade around the city.
As we barrel through the haze, I scan the masked Shadow Society members strewn across the cobbles, praying I’ll see La Voisin or her sorcerer.
“Save yourself the trouble.” Desgrez nods up ahead, where La Voisin and the leaders of the Shadow Society slowly appear through the smoke. They’re trapped in the center of the teeming street, their horses rearing and churning like a dark, deadly whirlpool. We lit the cannon just seconds too early. My stomach drops and disappointment drags at my legs. Killing them would have made everything so much simpler.
“Don’t look so defeated. They could still be trampled to death,” Desgrez says as a rider pitches through the burning sky.
“We can only hope.”
The crowd grows thicker and thicker as we shove down the street. I slam into the back of a man’s sweaty doublet. When I try to step around him, I meet more shoulders and backs and fists. We’re like sheep trapped in a too small pen. It takes an eternity to elbow our way down half a block. We’ll never even make it to my sisters, let alone through the blockade, at this rate.
