"With Marguerite," Anne said. "In the nursery, I think. There hadn't been time for anyone to come for him." But there had been time enough now, and she was still on the floor clutching at her lover.

"I have to go," she insisted, attempting to stand. "If I can get him to Constance, she might be able to get him out, get him to-"

Well, get him to Aramis had been her initial thought, but Aramis was here, and this was not part of the Louvre.

"Where are we?" she demanded.