Chapter 6
“Roses from the countryside are best plucked for rosewater. Dry them in late summer, sifting them over a screen to dispel the worms. Boil the collected petals.”
—From the salvaged notes of A., apprentice in the kitchens of Fontainebleau c. 1530s
Henri turned left at the unicorn. It was easy to infiltrate the eastern gardens of Fontainebleau through a short cut in the sprawling hedge maze. Now all Henri needed was a mask. Adorned in one of his uncle’s scarlet cloaks, he could’ve been a wandering noble who took a wrong turn at the pond of water lilies. Henri wasn’t lost.
Starless, the sky above the easterly gardens had been kept day. Large torches rose like pillars of flame in an erected pavilion. Henri could see a structure of wood and canvas rising at the center of it. It tow
