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guilt. She understood his bias against her. “I know,” he said with sympathy. “But I did not ask to be born a peasant, either.”

Chapter Two
     
     
    The desire to contradict him, to tell him he was not a peasant, rose to her lips, and she wondered at the instinct. Was it because she believed peasants to be beneath her? In fact, Jean-Claude was a peasant. Yet in coming to her rescue, he had shown more nobility than half the courtiers who flitted through their château.
    “I am sorry,” she said. “I am sorry for all the injustice you have suffered. I am sorry my parents stood in support of King Louis and the taxes that made bread cost an annual wage. I am sorry for all of France now. It seems we will all suffer together.”
    He released her wrists and sat back, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes.
    “Perhaps that is the point of la revolution . We shall all suffer together now.”
    “And no one shall flourish?” She flushed, realizing it was the flourishing of one small group at the great impoverishment of the rest that caused it all. “Never mind,” she said. “I did not mean…” She shook her head.
    “I know,” he said, climbing off her and settling on his side. “I know you have only followed where your parents led you. You have not given thought to form your own opinions about how France might be saved.”
    Her nose burned and her vision turned wavy at his veiled criticism. “No. That is not true. Even as a child I knew the farce. It was the reason I lied for a muddy boy who stole a pig. It was the reason I mocked the queen’s sheep. I suppose I knew then how to act against injustice better than I do now. But what should I have done to prevent this war? What could I have—?”
    Jean-Claude silenced her by pulling her into his arms, arranging her head on his shoulder, tucked her under his chin. “Me, I am sorry, too. You are right—in this way, we all lose.”
    She lay silent, stunned at finding herself in a man’s arms, confused about why he had offered the embrace or what he meant by it. She did not move for a long time, waiting to see if he had other intentions, but his breath slowed, signaling he had fallen off to sleep. She settled into him, snuggling close to his warmth, grateful for the companionship.
     
    * * *
     
    In the morning, they had nothing to eat. They had already consumed the small provisions he brought and he had no luck foraging or catching any game. Her belly gnawed as they walked on.
    “I am hungry,” she complained.
    He did not answer.
    “When will you find some food?”
    He stopped in his tracks, looking back and glaring. “You will know when I find it, Corinne. I am hungry as well, but I have chosen not to complain. It is a choice you might make as well.”
    “Can we stop and buy some bread?” she asked, realizing too late how stupid her question was. The wheat blight had brought the cost of bread nearly equal to the cost of a pound of silver. “I mean, something else? Eggs, perhaps?”
    He nodded.
    They walked on in silence. When she felt she would die if she did not rest, she spoke again. “My feet hurt.”
    He whirled, looking irritated. “Is that a complaint?”
    Taken aback, she stammered, “No, I—” then recovering, she put her fists on her hips. “It was a statement of fact. I need to rest.”
    He gave her an even look. “Then make a request.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “I said I do not wish to hear your complaints. If you require a rest, simply request it.”
    She flushed. “I see.” She gave an exaggerated curtsy. “Monsieur, may I please stop and rest, if it pleases Your Highness?”
    Jean-Claude scowled. “You would be wise to curb your attitude.”
    She rolled her eyes but bit back the “or what?” already knowing the answer. Plopping down on a log, she rubbed her aching feet.
    Thinking about her last meal, she realized her escort might be hungrier than she. When considering what they had eaten, she recalled he had given her the