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“The top center drawer of my desk.”
She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t even try to hide it, did you?” She gave him a quick kiss and turned to go, but he caught her arm and pulled her back for a longer kiss. When he finally released her, she looked slightly dazed. “Save another of those for when I return.”
And then she was gone, sprinting across the path, keeping low and moving quietly. Tristan tore his gaze from her to scan the area around them. So far he’d seen no one and heard only the faint whistle of one of the guard. It had sounded far away.
Still, he did not like hiding while she risked her life. Tristan held his breath, only exhaling when she was no longer out in the open. Finally, she made it to the palace and stepped into the shadow of the building. The windows were low to the ground, and she seemed to be attempting to push his open. Would that he had left it unlatched for her.
She’d asked a dozen questions about the window latches in his office, and he tried to remember. The Tuileries was a rather old palace, having been built by Catherine de’ Medici in the 1560s. It had once been the home of the Bourbon kings, but that was before Versailles. The Tuileries had been used once again when Louis XVI and his family had been forced by the people to live there before the imprisonment in the Tower, but the building was in some disrepair. Tristan hadn’t really had any idea of the state of the latch in his office, but he’d suggested trying nearby windows if she couldn’t force his.
As he watched, she began to do this. His wouldn’t open, so she moved to the next, which was one of the windows in Robespierre’s chambers. It too would not budge. Tristan began to feel anxious. How long could she stay out in the open without being spotted?
She moved to the next window, a thin, small shadow against the dark backdrop of the old building. Suddenly, she lifted her arms and turned to wave at him.
She’d found a way in.
A moment later, she disappeared inside and closed the window. Now the palace stood silent and still. Nothing moved inside or out. He could imagine her leaving Robespierre’s chambers and moving to his own. He sincerely hoped she did not decide to search Robespierre’s things. They didn’t have time for it. Tristan sat back, knowing it would be a few moments before she emerged from his window. But then he sat forward again.
He’d caught a flicker of movement and stared at the far end of the palace intently, hoping he’d been wrong.
He hadn’t.
Two members of the guard walked, lantern in hand, surveilling the area. Tristan had little fear they would discover him. They wouldn’t venture into the gardens, but if Alexandra emerged from the window now, she would be caught. And since they were on the opposite side of the palace, if she emerged before they’d walked the entire length, quite a long trek, she would be caught. He had no way to warn her.
He crouched, wanting to act but not knowing what he should do. One thing was certain. He would not leave her to be captured as she’d suggested. By the same token, he couldn’t reveal himself or negate all she had fought for.
Tristan was not a praying man, but he began to pray now. He prayed Alexandra would stay inside until the guard had passed. But all too soon, he saw her form at his window. She wasn’t visible to the guard yet. They still had several yards until they reached the window, but they could not help but notice her climbing out.
Tristan tried to signal her. He waved and made a slashing sign, but either she couldn’t see him or she hadn’t looked. He couldn’t do anything so overt as to jump out of the garden. Then he would be seen.
His window slid open, and Tristan’s gaze went from the guard to the window and back again. She didn’t even look to check if anyone was coming, not that it would have helped. If she’d been seen looking out, the alarm would have been raised.
She stuck one leg out, balancing on the sill. Tristan pivoted toward the guard, who stopped short, obviously seeing exactly what he was and trying to make sense of it.
Quite suddenly, the one with the lamp turned and ran the way he’d come while the other moved against the wall of the building and continued forward. The men were no fools. They didn’t want to risk their quarry retreating into the palace. It was a maze of salons and passageways. It would take more time to find an intruder there. So one guard stayed and the other left to sound the alarm and fetch reinforcements.
Unaware she’d been spotted, Alexandra climbed out of the window and pulled it closed. He knew the moment she spotted the guard approaching because she stiffened and then looked his way. If she was gauging the distance between the guard and herself and the gardens, she must know she would never make it.
She gave a last fleeting look at the gardens, then raised her hands as though in surrender.
Tristan couldn’t hear the conversation, only the low barks of the guard and Alexandra’s muffled replies. The guard edged out from the side of the building, blocking her escape to the gardens. In doing so, he also turned his back to Tristan. His friend hadn’t returned yet. It was a long way around the building and it would take time for him to find his superior.
Tristan didn’t wait. He moved out of the cover and ran as soundlessly as possible toward the guard. Alexandra saw him and shook her head, but he ignored her. The guard asked her something and she replied in a low voice, obviously trying to keep up the pretense that she was a boy. The guard must have had suspicions, though, because he knocked the hat off her head and peered closely at her face. Tristan was closer now, and he slowed to a walk, silence of the essence. He could hear the conversation.
“You’re not a boy at all. You’ve been lying this whole time.”
“I’m sorry, citoyen. I was scared.” She even sounded scared, though Tristan doubted she had the sense to be as frightened as she ought to be.
“What were you really doing in the palace? Stealing? Or maybe something worse?”
If Alexandra saw Tristan nearing, she didn’t let on. Her attention was wholly on the guard. “I admit I did take a few baubles. I’ll give them back. I’ll empty my pockets. Then we can forget this ever happened.”
“I’ll decide about that.”
She reached into her pocket, and Tristan who was within striking distance now, landed a hard blow to the back of the guard’s head. He went down, and Tristan hit him again. The man didn’t move, and Tristan could only hope he’d rendered him unconscious.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Alexandra demanded. “I told you to—”
“We don’t have time to argue. There’s another who ran to sound the alarm.”
