“It’s true!” I yell. “Louis, the dauphin, is alive and wishes to make amends.”
“That will take a fair bit more than coughing syrup!”
“Which he is prepared to give. In exchange for your support, he will continue to provide treatment and aid, but he also wishes to give you a voice—representatives who will bring the concerns of the common people before him, and together you will devise acceptable solutions. A union of the common man and noble man!”
“Lies!” A handful of voices cry immediately. “Who are you to make such high promises?”
I blow out a breath and stand taller. “I give you my word, as Josse de Bourbon, bastard son of the late king. I was spit upon and downtrodden, like you. Hated and cast aside. I’m not the same breed of royal who left you to freeze on this street, and if you’ll lend me your trust, I promise you’ll be given the respect you deserve. My mother was a scullery maid. I am one of you. I’ll fight for you—if you’ll let me.”
No one cheers, but they don’t boo me either, which feels rather miraculous, given it’s my first speech. The people huddle into groups to whisper, and after what feels like a lifetime, a woman steps forward and asks, “If he’s the bastard prince, who areyou?” She points a crooked finger at Mirabelle.
“I am …” Mirabelle’s voice trails off. She cannot use her given name, as it will undoubtedly get back to her mother. She sputters and looks to me, panic flashing in her eyes.
“La Vie!” I bellow the first thing that comes to mind. “This is Mademoiselle La Vie.” I offer Mirabelle a hand and pull her up on the cart beside me. “It was she who created your salves and tinctures. She who brought your plight to my attention. She is your true savior and the leader of this revolution. Tell everyone who will listen.”
Mirabelle blinks up at me, repeating the name as if I said something miraculous. The men and women take up a chant, and the name swells louder and louder as we hop down from the milk cart and make our way back up the rue du Temple.
“La Vie! La Vie! La Vie!”
Life, life, life.
“That name—” Mirabelle says reverently. “I don’t deserve it.”
“Of course you do. You’re brilliant.” The words tumble out before I can help them, and Mirabelle inhales sharply. I failed to use a mocking tone or don a teasing smirk. I have never complimented her in earnest, and my mouth bobs open and closed like a codfish’s.
She nudges my side. “You’re not so bad yourself, princeling. Healing suits you. And the people adore you.” She gestures to the men and women clustered all around, and their grateful smiles turn my bones to slush. Their cheers fill my belly like warm soup on a frigid night.
It’s wondrous.
And terrifying.
I am not a hero.
I duck my head and tighten my grip on the milk cart. “They’re not cheering forme.They’re cheering for the curativesyoumade. I’m just the delivery boy.”
“Delivery boys don’t generally make such impassioned speeches. It’s okay to care, you know. You don’t have to put on your act for me. Or them.”
What act?I want to retort.There’s only me—Josse. Bastard. Rake. Hellion.
Healer,a new voice whispers.Brother. Leader.
I try to shoo the thoughts away, but they buzz back like horseflies. Biting me. Insisting they have always been there—hidden. It’s easier to be vexing than vulnerable. Safer to push people away rather than be turned away. Less painful to live up to low expectations than attempt to rise above them and be found wanting. I was so convinced I would never earn Father’s approval, I pretended not to want it.
And now I will never have it.
You shouldn’t want it,I scold myself.Look around. Look what he permitted.
And I do look—at the people clapping my back and calling my name. For the first time in my life, I am a success rather than a disappointment.
I feel like cheering and retching, both.
What if I prove them wrong?
What if you prove them right?
Echoes of Rixenda’s final plea hum in my ears, and shivers flash down my arms. Is this the reason she always thwacked me with her spoon and ignored my complaints? Was she trying to tell me I could use my position for good—if I was willing to try? I may not be able to earn the king’s approval, but I already had Rixenda’s. And I could honor that by caring forherpeople.
Mypeople.
