Rain of light that saturated every new leaf of the trees in the street, every square of paving, drift of rain threading light through the empty darkness itself. And the ball in the Palais Royal. The king and queen were there, dancing with the people. Talk in the shadows of intrigue.
Kingdoms rise and fall.
Just don't burn the paintings in the Louvre, that's all. Landscapes of pearl and ribbon. Broad-chested men like roosters in satin coats like feathered wings. The diamonds hurt my eyes. The voices touched the surface of my skin at times, the laughter the echo of unholy laughter, wreaths of candles blinding, the froth of music positively lapping the walls.