The Gilded Cage

The rhythmic clop of horses and the distinct rattle of wheels break the cool Parisian morning air outside your garret. Putting aside your palette, you lean over the railing, expecting to see your master, Edmond Morel, returning from the palace. Instead, a carriage bearing the fleur-de-lis, though not grand enough for a person of high consequence, stops below. Soldiers in royal blue coats descend and enter the building.

Their boots echo on the stairs, a drum tattoo against your racing heart. Are they here for you? Madame Poulin’s terrier erupts in a horrible racket. Before you have time to think, they are at your door. You are needed at Versailles, they say. No time to pack your belongings. Your invitation to court has finally arrived, though not in the way you ever imagined.

Your heart thunders in your ears, excitement warring with a growing knot of unease. Morel is always at the palace, but he has never taken you. He warned you of the court's fickle nature and your own sharp tongue. Why now? The journey to Versailles is shorter than you expect, bringing you to the gates of the magnificent Château, a world away from the dingy walls of your garret.