Chapter 44
Forty-Four
As the bloodied orc soldiers dismount their horses and surround the Borealla Academie, Beatrix lets out a shrill scream from the front walkway of the manor.
I take a cautious step forward, and she screams again.
This time, however, she runs toward me and throws her arms around my shoulders.
Her hug is so tight that I can barely breathe.
“Beatrix,” I say, my voice choked.
She’s exactly as I remember: tall and willowy, with wavy honey-colored hair that shines with gold strands when the sun’s rays hit just right.
But there’s a change. Her usually sun-kissed skin is paler than it was when we were in the City of Alexandria.
The northern climate or something else has affected her—
Rett steps back, giving us a wide berth, his eyes flicking from me to Beatrix with a guarded expression. His wary silence hangs heavy, a reminder of our tense argument over whether we should seek shelter here. Guilt and relief churn within me, an unpleasant combination.
Luckily for us, Borealla Academie is on the outskirts of the village, so there was no need to travel through a population center on the way here.
Attracting attention is the last thing any of us wants.
My silver eyes and a trailing horde of orcs, far from the Beast Realm, raise questions we aren’t prepared to answer.
Rett joins a gangly orc teen who helps the wounded soldiers with the horses, taking them to the stables.
This academie’s manor is smaller than the Bidding House, but it’s made of the same ornate white stone. The gardens, however, are much more extensive, featuring longer walking paths, scores of decorative flowerbeds, and numerous manicured trees that sprinkle the lawn with their falling leaves.
Beatrix leads me inside, her hand trembling slightly in mine until we reach a shuttered classroom off the main parlor and close the door behind us. The smell of chalkboards and textbooks scents the stale air.
She leans on a polished desk, her bright eyes on me, as if doubting what she’s seeing. “Sorry. I wanted to talk to you alone before the others discover you’re here,” she says, her voice shaky.
I give her another big hug, and the warmth of her body makes me feel like a girl again. “No, this is perfect,” I assure her.
And then I tell her everything.
The words pour out as I describe my harrowing journey here.
Her brow rises, creasing her forehead as her hand grips mine tightly.
Still, she listens and listens and listens, through the wonderful, through the horrific.
I leave out only the sordid details about Ashland that I cannot bring myself to share.
When I finish, she touches my face, taking stock. Her familiar eyes observe my strange eyes. “I thought you were dead,” she whispers. “The entire kingdom does.”
Just like that, creeping fear replaces my joy at seeing her. I grimace. “Presumed dead is as good as dead when you’ve been stripped of your home.”
“You’re alive, that’s all that matters,” Beatrix corrects, her eyelashes moistening with tears before she takes a deep breath. “The entire village was in an uproar when you disappeared, and not long after that, Alisse showed back up—”
The young debutante who was so distraught the day of the last Bidding… “She’s here?”
Beatrix nods. “Came in a straight panic during the dead of night.”
“What happened?” My heart pounds. “They wouldn’t tell me anything while I was captive.”
“General Metalla essentially took control over the kingdom, and…” She pauses before adding softly, “Chancellor Black married Princess Klara.”
Everything convulses at her words.
Balor and Klara?
Married?
I grasp the desk’s edge to steady myself.
“It’s true,” Beatrix says. “After they announced your death, Metalla declared his daughter the rightful queen and supported her marriage to the Chancellor… but we know who is really in charge.” My head spins, the ground beneath seeming to fall away.
“They’re destroying the kingdom as we know it.
They enacted new laws, changing the roles of the Lady Courtesans for the worse. ”
“For the worse?”
“Yes, but I don’t know any details. Alisse barely spoke for weeks after she returned. She still won’t speak of it.”
White-hot anger and disbelief tear into me when I remember Balor’s threats over the years.
Beatrix interjects before I can express my thoughts.
“And it’s hardly any better here. Women from Borealla are disappearing.
Even Madame Morgana and the other three instructors vanished on their trip into town.
And to make matters worse, the girls found the carriage driver and the manservant lying on the road, gutted and beheaded—” Her voice shakes, cracking in her throat.
Her expression is desperate and wild with fear.
“Tabitha, it’s only me and the elderly cook here to protect them now.
” Fat teardrops spill down her cheeks. She hastily wipes them away.
Her words make me stagger backward. A new wound slices open deep in my belly when I recall how Ashland and Valora kept me in the dark about all of this.
My kingdom. My home. My family.
They knew that if I learned these things, nothing would have stopped me from escaping. Nothing would have prevented me from getting Klara away from Balor. Instead, I barely even tried while my sweet cousin was sold to that demon.
I close my eyes. “What about Finn Wellcrest, Klara’s betrothed?”
“They proclaimed the captain dead too,” Beatrix says softly. “The same day as your death announcement.”
Dead.
I picture his shining Queensguard armor and his brooding silences. My throat tightens as I struggle to breathe.
Before I can respond further, there’s a pattering of footsteps in the hall, and the schoolroom door bursts open.
A flurry of swishing velvet and silk skirts flutters in, and around twenty or so courtesan students of varying ages surround us.
The youngest pupils cling to Beatrix’s plum-colored gown, whimpering and sniffling into their sleeves.
The older ones stand straight, their faces hardened but curious as they study me.
The tallest among them steps forward, her onyx hair pulled into two braids, her eyes a striking sea-moss green against her pale skin. She extends a tentative, plump hand. “You’re the queen, aren’t you?” Her voice trembles, but she’s clearly trying to be strong.
I swallow, meeting her gaze. “I am.” My tone is deceptively steady despite the news I’ve just received.
“Did you come here to help us?”
“I’m going to do everything in my power to make things better for all of us.”
She gives a strained smile in return, dark circles pronounced under her eyes. There’s a moment of silence before the room erupts into chatter, and I field the influx of questions they throw my way.
“We’ll be gone by first light. I do not want anyone from the castle to discover we’re here,” I say as I survey the girls’ rounded, youthful faces; the thought of them being stolen is unbearable.
Beatrix addresses the group. “You heard your queen, girls.” She puts a slender finger to her lips and makes a shushing motion. “Not a word about our new guests to anyone.”
I pause at the doorway’s threshold and look at my friend, who lifts a crying five-year-old onto her hip. “Thank you,” I mouth to her.
In return, Beatrix wordlessly mouths, “Welcome home, Tabitha.”
* * *
I run across the muddy yard as Rett pushes off the twisted oak tree that he’s leaning on. He’s been waiting with his arms crossed. The same as our first encounter at the tavern.
“Did you know about Alexandria when you rescued me?” The news of everything rushes out, the words tumbling in a knotted mess.
He goes still, his expression flashing with something that’s gone in an instant.
“No. I left the day after your coronation. I’ve been traveling with my warriors, escorting my little sister to the Citadel—where she’ll be safe for her studies.
” He clenches his fist and his face darkens.
“I only learned of your capture because of a traveling caravan. Please believe me when I tell you that this is the first I’ve heard of your kingdom being usurped. ”
“You truly didn’t know?”
“No, but I’m not surprised. I already knew the chancellor and your uncle couldn’t be trusted.” Rett spits on the ground. “This changes everything.”
I cycle through a dozen emotions while listening to Rett’s outrage, but there are more pressing matters. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before asking, “Have your men received what they need? Food? Bandages?”
“Looks like it,” he replies, his tone deliberately measured. He clasps his hands together, standing firm. “Their wounds will heal, and while they recover, we’ll mourn our dead.”
Valora’s swift beheading of any orc coming toward us flashes across my memory, and my stomach twists. “If they need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
The world tilts. Exhaustion, like a relentless attack, pounds through my muscles. My vision blurs, and I reach out, fingers clutching the oak’s rough bark for support.
I can’t stop the guilt that squeezes around my heart when I think of Balor on the throne. I wasn’t strong enough to get rid of him when I had the chance, and now everything is worse than I could ever have imagined.
A wide, warm hand spreads across my back. Rett whispers, “It’s a lot, I know… You don’t deserve what’s happened.”
I peer into his friendly eyes. He doesn’t understand half of it, yet he’s here supporting me when I need it the most. But his touch, comforting at first, becomes irritating as I remember his proposal on the night of my coronation.
I stand and steel myself. “I should check on them,” I say, leaving the shade of the oak and stepping into the sunlit yard.