The Academy (Perrault Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  The Princesses? A furnace burned inside Rilla’s belly, hotter than any dragon fire. She scowled. They had tried to kill her before with the poisoned comb. And the Azure salt on her arm in Alchemical Defense was no accident. She remembered they’d stayed back after class the night before. Yes. They had probably seen her encounter with Lord Bluebeard, found her bag, and set up the ambush.

  Rilla pictured their laughing, sneering faces, and she shot to her feet, startling the birds. With fury powering her steps, she stormed back to the campus, barely noticing the soldier at the east gate. Her feet pounded the cobbles, she was that heavy with resentment.

  Outside the main building, Gwynter stepped into her path and cast her pale blue eyes over Rilla's body. “My goodness, Perrault, have you been cavorting with trolls again?”

  With a swiftness she'd never experienced, Rilla grabbed the Princess by her throat and lifted the wretch above her head. The girl’s eyes bulged with fright and she grabbed Rilla’s wrist with her delicate hands.

  “No more,” Rilla snarled. “No more locked dormitory. No more tampering with my things. No more whispers and barbs.” She tightened her grip and shook the girl until her teeth chattered. “Is. That. Clear?”

  Gwynter's face was puce and contorted with pain. The princess nodded, and Rilla threw her to the ground. For a few seconds, Rilla watched the girl scramble on the cobblestones, all airs and graces gone.

  Good. She had more people to track down.

  Royal Trouble

  Rilla headed to the Chancellor's office first to inform him of the incident. He would have the best advice on whether to call the constables, magistrates or a barrister.

  She threw open the wooden doors, stomped up the stone stairs, eyes down, teeth clenched. Her fury kept her moving, and she would not rest until she had satisfaction.

  “Cadet Perrault?”

  Her head snapped up. It was Jacques, gaping at her from a few steps up. She continued on her path, but he moved in front of her, a frown marring his pretty features.

  “What happened to you?”

  “Not now.” She shoved him aside and sped up, taking the stairs three at a time.

  Jacques hurried after her up the staircase. “Please. I want to know.”

  Rilla stopped and turned her head. “How dare you speak to me?” Her voice was cool, despite the fury simmering in her chest. “You've done nothing but encourage your friends to ridicule me. You're a braggart, a liar, and a thief.”

  The young man froze, his mouth opened and closed like a wooden puppet. “It was just a question.”

  “I'm not telling you a thing. You’d only find a way to take credit.”

  Rilla stormed through the corridors. The other students stepped out of her way, not daring to approach.

  At the Chancellor's office, Madam Florian stepped out of the doorway. The woman curled her lip, her gaze flicking up and down Rilla's form. “I was just reporting your absence from my class this morning. By the looks of it, you were—”

  “Almost killed, again, by one of your favorite students.”

  Madam Florian narrowed her eyes and smirked, “Did you by chance steal someone’s poisoned apple this time?”

  “Enough,” Rilla hissed. She stepped close to the woman, pulled back her shoulders and glared down at her.

  Madam Florian’s eyes widened, and she pursed her lips.

  On the inside, Rilla nodded. Her intimidation tactic worked. “Mark my words, Vice Chancellor. If you dismiss this complaint like you did the others, I will have you investigated as an accomplice.”

  Madam Florian inhaled sharply and glanced around. “Come into my office. Now.”

  Rilla folded her arms. “After you go back in there and withdraw your report.”

  The Vice Chancellor inclined her head. “Very well.”

  Once they were situated in her office, Madam Florian took her seat behind her desk, not inviting Rilla to sit. She used the opportunity to intimidate with her size again. Rilla summarized the dragon incident, leaving out the enchanted quarterstaff and the bluebirds. “And I’m certain that the Princ—that Cadets Hibern and Vern are behind this.”

  Madam Florian frowned and shook her head. “I doubt that Cadet Hibern would be involved in such a conspiracy.”

  Rilla sneered, noting that Princess Freida was not dismissed as a suspect. She couldn't help but to believe Gwynter was also involved, but perhaps to a lesser extent.

  “In any case,” Madam Florian said, “I will need proof the dragon exists before pursuing any action.”

  Rilla tilted her head to the side and gave the woman a cold smile. “Go to the forest outside the east gate, walk down the path until you come to the clearing. There, you’ll find a pit. Jump inside, and you'll find a dragon carcass.”

  Madam Florian blanched. “I will do what I can.”

  “If you don’t,” Rilla said, “I owe Trude Hessen from the Tribune an interview. I'm sure she'd enjoy reporting your failures in her gossip column.”

  Madam Florian shot out of her seat, nostrils flared. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Rilla pointed at the woman's skinny chest. “You have been treating me with disdain since we met, and I owe you a world full of humiliation.”

  The Vice Chancellor's mouth twisted like a Tundra tortoise chewing a mouthful of sourberries.

  “Also,” Rilla continued, “I want that poisoning attempt revisited. It’s obvious now that it was a deliberate set up. Not only that, it was the second attempt on my life since I joined the Academy. One of those two splashed me on purpose with Azure salt in Alchemical Defense.”

  “I will look into those matters,” Madam Florian muttered.

  “Thank you.” Rilla turned and left without being dismissed. She bumped into the Chancellor's eavesdropping clerk, who scurried out of the way. Smiling, she handed him her Assassination thesis, and the other completed assignments. “Give these to Professor Engel, please.”

  The blushing clerk took the scrolls and nodded.

  On her way back to the elite dormitory, Rilla ran into the Autumn Queen for the second time that day. Millissa gasped. “What happened to you?”

  By now, the pain from being burned and knocked about seeped back, and Rilla's limbs sagged under their own weight. “Dragon.”

  “We're going to the infirmary right now.”

  Rilla remembered the strange and overly inquisitive physician and shook her head. The hallway seemed to tilt at a funny angle, and her stomach churned.

  “No, thank you.” The words came out slurred. “I want to rest.”

  “Rilla, you’re burned, bruised and limping. We must go, now.”

  Still shaking her head, Rilla allowed Millissa to take her hand and lead her to Doctor Morgen.

  In the infirmary, a headless young woman lay on a metal table. The doctor stood bent over her open torso, pulling out entrails with his gauntlet-covered hands.

  “Is that Bruna?” Rilla asked, the last word turning into a scream. Bile rose to her throat, and she doubled over, hyperventilating. Blood pounded in her ears, blanking out all rational thought.

  She could hear the doctor's cheerful voice saying, “Cadet Hulda still has her head and this young woman died of natural causes last night. The silly girl thought it would be a good idea to poison Prince Marcassin and escape justice by jumping off the suicide oak. Ha!”

  “Why are you performing an autopsy if she fell to her death?” asked Millissa.

  “Finders, keepers!” said Doctor Morgen.

  “And what happened to Marc?” asked Millissa.

  “Him? He’s sleeping it off over there behind those curtains. That young man has the constitution of a boar.” The doctor snickered, although Rilla couldn’t see the joke. “Whoops!” Something like a pig’s bladder squelched to the ground, splashing blood on the doctor’s brown, leather boots.

  Rilla shivered with disgust. It seemed no one had made any effort to return the young woman’s body to her family for a proper burial. She hoped if Bruna�
��s fate was to be executed, her body would not be used in heartless experiments. Or Rilla’s, for that matter.

  “All right, you two didn’t come here to watch an autopsy,” said the doctor. “Cadet Perrault, you’re a mess of burns. What happened?”

  “Dragon.” Rilla straightened and looked for somewhere to sit.

  The physician's eyes widened. He guided her to a bed and made her sit. After fumbling around in a drawer, he pulled out a pewter jar and a corked vial. “This is a healing salve, developed in Clement by an alchemist and physician named Henri Bacon. He lives near Moissan. Perhaps you know him?”

  Rilla’s mouth fell open. “How did you know—”

  “I would be a poor doctor if I didn’t obtain my patients’ medical records. Your home address was on the form you completed when you enrolled in the Academy.” He paused, unscrewed the jar and gazed into its contents. “Apparently, you have no medical records. Why is that?”

  “Our cook is an expert in folk healing,” Rilla replied. While that was true, she wouldn’t tell him that she could heal from anything within one or two days. Besides, Mother would never pay for her to see a doctor.

  The doctor applied the cool, peppermint and lavender-scented salve to the burns on her face and hands. “It’s extraordinary.” He glanced at her sideways. “You can bruise trolls and kill dragons. There must be something unique about your physiology.”

  Rilla froze. The words sounded like an accusation. And in her weakened state, she could never fight her way out. She had two options: confess to having used an enchanted staff, or tell the doctor about her powers. It took little effort to decide which of the two explanations to chose. Besides, Roland had used a fiddle to make two witches dance to their deaths, and General Cazador didn’t react. So she might get off with a light punishment.

  “There’s nothing unique about me,” she said. “I have a special quarterstaff I used to stab the dragon through its ear. It expanded and pierced its brain.”

  The doctor looked at her for a moment, blinked his wide, cerulean eyes and then laughed.

  “Oh don’t look so frightened. There is no penalty for using enchanted weapons. Only for making them. Ha!” he winked at her, but she was not comforted.

  “Now, take this vial of Liquid Serenity for the shock.” He stepped back, a gleam in his eye. “And you must disrobe so we can get to the rest of your burns.”

  Rilla's stomach twisted at the thought of the doctor examining her for signs of magic.

  Millissa walked out from behind Prince Marcassin’s curtains. She shook her head and held out her hand. “Thank you, Doctor, but I will apply the ointment.” When the man didn't leave, she added, “In private.”

  Doctor Morgen's face fell. He placed the jar into Millissa's open palm and skulked to the door, giving Rilla a wistful glance as he left.

  “What an odd fellow,” said Millissa, a dark look clouding her pretty features.

  Rilla nodded, wondering with growing concern about Doctor Morgen’s intentions.

  Later, as they walked back to their dormitory, Rilla cracked her knuckles. She pushed up her sleeves and scowled.

  “What are you doing?” Millissa asked.

  “I’m getting ready to punch Freida in the face.”

  Millissa stopped walking and placed a hand on Rilla’s arm. “If you hurt her, you could have the entire Kingdom of Vern against you.”

  Rilla thought about what she’d done to Gwynter and gulped. “I can't let Freida get away with trying to kill me again. She'll never stop.”

  “You’ll have to think of something else. If you use violence—”

  “Excuse me, Cadet Perrault?” A clerk walked up, holding a pile of scrolls. “I was about to take these back, but since you’re here, I’ll give you yours.” He examined the seals and picked out one with the royal crest and handed it to her with a flourish.

  “Thanks,” said Rilla to the retreating clerk. She turned to Millissa. “I need to lie down for a bit, so I’ll see you later.”

  “You’re not going anywhere on your own. Anyone who’s taken Liquid Serenity should be watched over in case they decide to fall asleep in the bath.” Millissa took Rilla’s hand and guided her across the hallways to the accommodation wing and to the elite dorm. “Lie on my bed, in case they’ve done something to yours.”

  Rilla obeyed her friend and sank into the soft, feather mattress. It was just as plush as her bed in the palace, minus the annoying lump. She closed her eyes and handed Millissa the scroll. “Can you read this out loud? My head’s spinning.”

  “Who’s it fro—oh! Are you sure?”

  Rilla giggled. “We’re just friends.”

  “Very well,” said Millissa. “Dear Rilla, I wanted to be the first to inform you of my wonderful news.” She stopped reading.

  Rilla smiled. “What else does he say?”

  “I think you should read this for yourself after you’ve rested.”

  “How can I sleep if there’s something so important that you won’t tell me?”

  Millissa paused and said. “He’s engaged.”

  A lump rose in Rilla’s throat. “Go on.”

  “One of the ridiculous proposals the Tundra representatives suggested was a union between myself and Princess Olga, the Queen’s eldest daughter. Of course, I rejected it. After what happened to poor Alec, my parents wanted me to marry for love, but the representatives brought the fair maiden to the next round of negotiations.”

  “Is that all?” Rilla’s voice was thick. Her eyes wouldn’t open because water was gathering behind their lids.

  “The rest of the letter just explains that they met and he agreed to be engaged. You can look at it later.”

  “Millissa, I can handle whatever he says next. Please, keep reading.”

  “I was staggered by Olga’s beauty and audacity. When I walked into the stateroom, she challenged me to a duel, and told me we would be wed if she won. Instantly charmed, I accepted the lady’s proposal. Oh, Rilla, she is more warrior than princess, with her tall stature and athletic physique. I let her win because I could not imagine life without such a divine creature.

  “Olga is proficient with the sword, and we have since sparred twice. Despite her prowess as a fighter, she retains a womanly shape and ample physical charm. Her hair curls past her shoulders in waves of shimmering gold, and her complexion is like the finest cream. And her eyes! They remind me of pools of jade, and I cannot wait to plunge into her depths—”

  “Enough,” Rilla croaked. The words weighed on her chest, heavy as a statue. Those descriptions were so specific. It was almost as though he was describing herself.

  She felt the back of Millissa’s cool fingers brush her cheek. “I’m so sorry. From the way he was acting when he came to visit, I was convinced he would court you.”

  Rilla pressed her lips together, not wanting to repeat the lie that she and Armin had been just friends. His letter all but confirmed he was at least physically interested in her. Anyone looking through the flowery language would see Rilla in that description. How many statuesque, curly blonde-haired, green-eyed warrior women were out there? And as for the womanly figure, no one, not even Mother, had accused her of being boyish.

  The tears seeped out from between her eyelids, and she turned her head, not wanting Millissa to witness her moment of weakness.

  “Oh, Rilla…”

  The bed dipped, and two slender arms encircled her from behind. Rilla sniffled. “I’m not crying because Armin’s engaged. It’s fallout from nearly being killed by a dragon today.”

  “I know.” Millissa squeezed tighter, but she sounded unconvinced.

  They lay like that, with Millissa stroking Rilla’s hair until she fell into a dreamless sleep.

  Meeting Of Representatives

  “Rilla, where were you last night?” Scarlet asked at the breakfast table.

  “Sharing someone else’s bed?” Dora smirked. “Careful, I might get jealous.”

  Rilla gave a weak smile and s
hook her head. “No. I slept in my own dormitory. Things will be very different for me from now on.”

  She told them a shortened version of her encounter with the dragon, and of her confrontations with Gwynter, Jacques, and Madam Florian. The girls exchanged gasps, shot filthy looks at the princesses, and commiserated that they would no longer be sharing a room.

  “I'm glad you got out of there safe, but it's horrible they trapped you in the first place,” said Scarlet.

  Dora scowled, looking every bit an ex-bandit. “I'd like to throw them into the pit. See if they can la-dee-da themselves out.”

  “So what’s next?” Greta asked, “When will you hear—”

  “Excuse me, cadets.” A clerk handed Rilla two scrolls, one of which bore the royal crest.

  Rilla's heart sank. She opened the scroll and braced herself for more exuberant verses about the legendary beauty of Princess Olga, but found an official document instead.

  Crown Prince Armin and Princess Olga of Tundra cordially invite:

  Cendrilla Perrault

  to a Royal Engagement Ball

  at The Palace.

  A small card fell to the table. It listed the order of dances, along with the names of various gentlemen who had apparently requested a dance with Rilla. She smiled at the appearance of Lord Florian and Armin’s names.

  “What’s that?” asked Dora.

  “A dance card.” Rilla handed the items to her friends, who oohed and ahed over the list of important names.

  “Do you know any formal dances?” asked Greta.

  Rilla frowned and shook her head. With her full dance card, she risked humiliating herself at the ball. She had to find a solution, and fast.

  “Don’t look now,” Dora whispered, “but a couple of spoiled princesses are looking pretty quiet today.”

  After a discreet pause, Rilla glanced off to the side. Gwynter and Freida were sitting in near silence, not sneering in her direction as usual. Rilla sat up straighter. Things were different all right, and they were going to stay that way.