The Academy (Perrault Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  Nodding, Rilla gulped. Instead of spending five years working in obscurity as a maid, she would serve that time in the Army…If they didn’t find out about her powers and execute her before then.

  The courtroom cleared, and Lord Florian helped Rilla stand. “Come, Lady Cendrilla. I will introduce you to the Chancellor of the Academy.”

  Rilla sat in silence for the duration of the ride. Lord Florian’s jovial attempts to cheer her up didn’t work, as her thoughts were occupied by the prospect of the strange magical powers being triggered in front of the wrong people. She looked out of the carriage window. Every building, down to the stores, was made of the same limestone as the palace. Metropole looked far older and more uniform than Moissan, her home town in Serotin.

  She wondered to herself yet again what kind of man her father had been in life. Would he have been so eager to sell her off to the highest bidder? He had left her with Mother, whose greed knew no bounds.

  Her musings drifted to Cook and Benoit. Rilla hoped they were coping without her. She also hoped Mother used some of her bride price to hire a servant to replace her. A pang of guilt shot through Rilla. This was the first time since leaving the manor she’d spared a thought for the only two people who had shown her love during her childhood.

  “Nearly there,” said Lord Florian.

  As they passed through a set of gates, and Rilla’s eyes widened at a narrow stone bridge which spanned a deep chasm. The boundary of the Academy was barely visible in the distance. The Academy itself was an enormous, limestone structure, set on its own hill and behind its own set of high walls. She’d expected something as shabby as the careworn foot soldiers she and Jack had encountered on the way to Clement. Her heart squeezed at the thought of her friend, but she maintained her composure.

  At the end of the bridge, four soldiers saluted and opened the heavy iron gates. The coach traveled into a huge, cobbled courtyard, and Rilla marveled at the imposing, limestone building of the Academy.

  A clerk ran out to greet them and ushered them into a vaulted stone reception hall, which led to a grand stairway. “Welcome, Lord High Steward!”

  “My good Sir,” said Lord Florian. “Would the Chancellor be available to give Lady Cendrilla here a tour of the Academy? She is the young woman who rescued Prince Armin from a band of trolls as you may have heard.”

  “Oh I have,” the clerk replied. “Aren’t you also the warrior woman who defeated Long Don Cipriano?”

  With an embarrassed smile, Rilla nodded.

  The clerk smiled at her and then turned back to Lord Florian. “Follow me.”

  They ascended one flight of stairs, and walked down a hallway of heavy oak doors, with brass placards, each one etched with the occupant’s names.

  The clerk knocked on a door at the far end before opening it. Lord Florian strode into the office. Rilla entered behind him. A slender, kindly man smiled from behind a tidy oak desk. He brushed thinning, caramel colored hair off his brow and stood. “Good evening, Lord High Steward and guest. I am Professor Steben Engel, Chancellor of this Academy.”

  Rilla bobbed a quick curtsy. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, My Lord. I am—”

  He held up a hand. “Lady Cendrilla, there is not a person in Metropole who does not know of your brave deeds.”

  A warm feeling spread through Rilla’s insides, but when the man continued to stare, she squirmed, not able to think of a reply.

  “True indeed.” Lord Florian beamed and patted Rilla on the shoulder. “Enjoy your tour, Cendrilla. Professor Engel will have you brought back to the palace via coach.” With a shallow bow, Lord Florian exited the office.

  The Chancellor turned his warm, amber eyes to Rilla. “Lady Cendrilla, please follow me. I have many things to show you.”

  He led her through the vast, domed halls of the Academy, showing her the combat training rooms, a lecture hall, and the outside grounds. Behind the main building was a vast area of lawn, with tall oaks dotted about the Academy walls. The sun hung low in the sky, lengthening the shadows cast by the trees. Several students were milling around, having finished their classes. Instead of the gray uniform she’d seen on the Anti-Magic Army soldiers, these cadets wore leather breastplates over their green tunics and breeches. The women wore skirts in a matching green, but their breastplates resembled bodices rather than armor.

  Rilla stared at them in awe, wondering if she belonged in such a fine institute of education, considering she’d never had any formal lessons.

  “I must confess to being curious about you. Trolls are renowned for their immense strength, and it takes several soldiers to subdue one, let alone three.”

  Cringing, Rilla let out a nervous laugh.

  “I have yet to meet anyone of your tender age to have defeated three single-handedly. How did you do it?”

  Rilla swallowed and repeated Lord Bluebeard’s lie about them fighting together. “… So you see, I didn’t fight them by myself, and the trolls knocked themselves out with a blast of light. Then the palace guard came and beheaded them.”

  Professor Engel stared at her for a long time, his face expressionless. Rilla stiffened, hoping he wouldn't challenge her story. A loud rumble emerged from her stomach. She flushed and clapped her hands over her traitorous belly.

  The Chancellor laughed. “No need to feel embarrassed, I’m sure you’re starving after the day you’ve had. Reports of the frivolous court case you were forced to endure has reached us even here at the Academy.”

  He raised his hand and waved at a brown-haired young woman who was sitting under a tree. “Cadet Hulda? Bruna, come here please. That’s my girl.”

  The cadet tucked her books into her satchel and crossed the lawn. As Bruna approached, Rilla's gaze fell to a birthmark the size and texture of a dormouse, on the girl's cheek. “Yes, Chancellor?”

  “Please take Lady Cendrilla to the dining hall and make sure she is served a good supper.” He turned to Rilla. “After your meal, there will be a carriage waiting to take you wherever you need to go. For now, please enjoy our establishment.”

  Professor Engel took his leave and left Rilla with Bruna, whose friendly, brown eyes sparkled.

  “Follow me. Cendrilla, was it? We’ll get you good and fed.”

  They entered the main building through the double doors and made their way to a large dining hall. Like the rest of the Academy the walls were white, with huge windows and down the left side were tables, filled with plated dishes lay. At the far end was an enormous table where instructors and army officers of varying ranks sat. Rilla chose a plate of roasted potatoes, a large shank of mutton, boiled vegetables, and a tankard of the most delicious ale she’d ever tasted.

  Bruna chatted about life at the Academy, highlighting the interesting subjects, comfortable beds and excellent food. It made Rilla wonder whether Bruna had come from an impoverished background. She also called over several friendly students, all of whom were commoners, unlike the people she’d met at the ball. By the end of dinner, Rilla’s anxieties relating to the Academy had lifted. It seemed unlikely that anyone there would delve into Rilla’s past or even trigger her secret power.

  When the gong sounded, signifying the end of dinner, Bruna escorted Rilla to the reception area, where the clerk was still sitting at his desk. He beamed at them. “Thank you, Cadet Hulda, for bringing back Lady Cendrilla. I’ll take over from here.”

  “It was great to meet you,” said Bruna. “Do let me know if you need help with anything.”

  Rilla’s insides warmed. It was rare for her to meet a woman of her age at all, let alone one who offered her so much affection. “Thank you.”

  He pushed forward a stack of papers and a quill and ink. “Just a few forms for you to complete. Take a seat, please, and answer all the questions completely.”

  Rilla stared at the list of questions. Some of them were as expected, such as name, address, date of birth. She frowned at others. One form required her to list all her encounters with magical foes, wit
h approximate dates and locations. She shrugged, supposing that most of the elite students had battled more than one monster to get conscripted.

  Her face fell when she read through the form asking for her parents’ identities and their exposure to magical foes. Mother had always refused to talk about how Rilla came under her care. Rilla had assumed Mother had married her father who had then died, but she had no memories of having any other parent except her. Also, none of the town gossips could recall ever seeing Lord Perrault or whoever had bequeathed the Perrault Manor and vaults to Rilla. She left that form blank, except for a brief note, stating she was orphaned.

  After having completed numerous forms, she was too tired to read the scrolls the clerk handed her as she left. The moon shone overhead, making the limestone of the surrounding structures glow. She dozed through the journey back and followed the maid through the palace hallways in a trance. It wasn’t until she reached her suite and found a note on her pillow that she brightened.

  I hope your tour of the Academy was enjoyable. Negotiations are going badly with Tundra, so I will be unable to see you off. I do hope you will correspond with me while we’re apart.

  Your friend,

  Armin

  Rilla felt two spots of heat form high in her cheeks. She remembered her stepsisters squealing over correspondence from gentlemen. At the time, she could only watch, wishing someone would write to her. What would they say if they found out her first gentleman correspondent was the Prince of their fantasies? A warmth suffused her insides, and she hugged herself with joy at having made such a good friend in Prince Armin.

  Via Plutus

  The next morning, Rilla breakfasted in her suite, with Ivan and Bette, the servants from the day before, as company. Ivan hopped from foot to foot, an excited gleam in his eye. “My Lady, I am to go with you to the shops today so you can buy things for the Academy.” He held up the purse and bounced it, making the coins inside clink. “His Majesty is covering your expenses.”

  Rilla gaped. “My…what?”

  “He told me you have to buy books and a uniform.” He puffed out his chest. “And I am your escort for the day.”

  Rilla got up and found the scrolls she’d received from the friendly clerk. The first was a letter of acceptance, stating that she would start the next day. A second contained a list of items she needed to buy. The book recommendations were mind-boggling. It included: The Art of Abduction, The Art of Assassination, and Alchemical Defense. She wasn’t surprised to see on the list Armed and Unarmed Combat and she thought Magical Flora and Fauna might be interesting.

  Below the book list were enough clothing, protective armor and alchemy supplies to make her head spin. “Where in the Seven Kingdoms am I going to find these things?”

  “Via Plutus, my Lady. It’s the main market alley in Metropole. It has everything you will need. We should leave soon, so we can get everything done.”

  She and Ivan rode a coach to the market place, which looked nothing like the one at home in Serotin. The street seemed to gleam with its smooth cobblestones, with not a speck of rubbish in sight. Glass windows adorned every shopfront, and each displayed products fit for royalty. Upon the stonework of each store hung wooden signs, etched with lettering in gold leaf.

  Rilla was admiring the profiterole pyramid on display at the patisserie when a group of women walked by.

  “There she is,” one of them whispered. “It’s her, isn’t it? She’s much taller than I’d imagined. Perhaps that’s why...”

  They passed out of earshot, but Rilla’s cheeks were now warm as she realized more and more people were staring. She and Ivan were about to pass beneath a stone archway when an older gentleman came up to them, waving for their attention. Rilla paused her steps, not wanting to be rude.

  “Excuse me.” His cheeks turned pink. “But are you Cendrilla Perrault?”

  “Y-yes, I am?” Rilla frowned. How did this man know her last name?

  “So it is you!” a woman exclaimed, approaching them. “The Warrior Woman of Clement Road is really here!”

  A small crowd formed around Rilla and Ivan, backing them into a storefront. Rilla's hand twitched toward the quarterstaff, still the size of a quill and stored in her bodice, but she stopped herself. She needed to curb her instinct to go for the physical defensive.

  Ivan's face broke into a grin. He preened under the attention, straightening the jacket of his palace uniform. Rilla shot him a pleading look.

  He pulled his shoulders back. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are on official business and in a hurry, so please excuse us.”

  The crowd parted, and Ivan marched into the bookstore only a few paces away.

  “Thank you,” Rilla said to him, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

  “It’s part of the job, my Lady. I will fend them off while you find your books.”

  She made haste, locating the required texts and carrying them under her arm. Hoping the Prince would not mind, she selected a few other titles relating to etiquette. If she was to be a student at the Academy, she would have to be more socially adept.

  The shopkeeper appeared to recognize her and offered a wide grin. He was a balding, middle-aged man, significantly shorter than her, but with kind, green eyes. She smiled back and paid for her order.

  He wrapped her books. “If you’ll pardon the ramblings of a humble man, I would have paid twice your weight in gold.” He coughed. “If I had the funds, of course. A girl of your fame with such humility is most refreshing, and a pretty face doesn’t hurt either.”

  Rilla ducked her head to hide the flush speeding across her face. “Thank you.”

  She left the bookstore with a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Her life before running away was a constant reminder of her towering height and solid frame. She would never be one of the porcelain dolls like her stepsisters, but it was reassuring to know she had charms worth appreciating. Now she no longer wore a servant's bonnet, her thick blonde curls around her face made her feel almost pretty.

  Rilla walked tall next to Ivan, passing a gentlemen’s outfitters and a shoemaker.

  “We're going to Military Modiste next, My Lady,” he said. “Madam Modiste makes all the clothes for—”

  “Shameless trollop!” yelled a woman standing outside the apothecary. She shook her fist so hard, her peacock feather bonnet almost fell off. “How can you show your face in public after the way you humiliated poor Lord Bluebeard?”

  Anger blazed through Rilla’s insides, making her turn towards the woman. But Ivan held her arm and steered her back toward the military outfitters.

  “Telling her off will do no good,” he whispered. “Folk gossip. It’s just the way things are.”

  “You ought to know your place,” she screeched. “A man literally pays your weight in gold, and you leave him for a younger man with better prospects? For shame!”

  Rilla nodded at Ivan and they stepped into the ladies’ outfitters. Her face burned. How on earth could the woman have known about Jack? And what was wrong with choosing a life of freedom over slavery?

  A short, plump woman bustled up, “Welcome to Modiste Military Marché.” She swept her hand across the store. “I am Madam Modiste, and it is an honor to serve a companion of the Crown Prince.”

  Rilla’s thoughts came to a screeching halt. The peacock feather woman hadn’t been referring to Jack. The younger man with better prospects was Prince Armin. She doubled over, laughing so hard, her ribs hurt.

  Ivan and the shopkeeper exchanged puzzled looks.

  “I’m sorry,” said Rilla, catching her breath. “I had a preposterous thought and lost my wits. Forgive me.”

  “Are you here for the Academy, then? No need to show me your list, I’ve fitted quite a few young ladies over the years. Come with me.” Madam Modiste took hold of Rilla's hand and led her away from Ivan and to a private fitting room. “Strip down to your chemise, and stand on the podium, dear.”

  Rilla undressed, placed her out
er clothing on a chair and stood on what appeared to be a larger-than-average stool.

  Madam Modiste took a range of measurements, jotting them down in her dog-eared notebook. “Let me see. I have corsets ready-made for larger women. I can let them in to fit your figure better. Yes, you're more height than girth.”

  The woman was talking more to herself than to Rilla, as she dug around the drawers, pulling out corsets. When she finished, she straightened and gazed up to meet Rilla's eyes. “It’s been the talk of the city, but I’d love to hear it straight from the source. Is it true you’ve jilted Lord Bluebeard to marry the Prince?”

  Rilla had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing again. “No, Madam. My origins are far too humble to aim my sights at the Prince.”

  “I see,” said Madam Modiste, “But I’m curious… is Lord Bluebeard as handsome as they say?”

  This time, Rilla could not hold back. She ended up coughing and spluttering with a mixture of laughter and gasping. The woman slapped her on the back in a rather pointless effort to help.

  “Who would ever say he’s handsome?” Rilla caught her breath. All she could now see in that brute was blinding rage and ugly violence.

  “People who've never had a proper look at him, it seems,” the woman said with a chuckle. “Now, do you by chance happen to have a casual wardrobe?”

  Rilla looked down at the fine, forest green gown the maid had laid out for her. “I’m afraid not.”

  “Not to worry. I’ll have a few dresses put together for you with your uniforms. Not every waking moment at the Academy is spent in study or combat, so you’ll need normal clothes.” The woman was collecting the materials from different cubbies when a knock on the fitting room door startled them both. “Who is that?”

  “It’s me, my dove,” said an urgent male voice. “Is your client decent? I need to come in.”

  Madam Modiste shoved a dressing gown into Rilla's hands and walked to the door. When she was sure Rilla had covered herself, she opened it.