The Academy (Perrault Chronicles Book 2) Page 9
Rilla gasped. “Is that why you girls didn’t talk to me at first?”
Dora looked at her and shook her head. “I was glad to hear you gave him a beating. He let me get caught by the constables and didn’t even bother to break me out of the jailhouse. Shows how much I meant to him.”
“How did you end up here?” asked Rilla.
“The magistrate found out I had a few run-ins with shape shifters. He told me to join the Academy or face the gallows. Seemed like an easy choice.” She shrugged.
Rilla focused her gaze on the livid, red claw marks on the side of Dora’s pretty face. “Is that how you got your scars?”
“Yes, those bear shifters can get testy. That’ll show me to sleep on the job!” she laughed and said nothing more about the subject.
“So what is Lord Bluebeard like?” Greta asked with a grin.
Rilla opened her mouth and closed it. She’d never forgive him for enslaving and beating Jack, or for buying her like a brood mare. A few days ago she would have given a scathing account of his explosive rages and violent temper. But she couldn’t make sense of his recent actions.
Dora nudged her and winked. “No need to be shy.”
“He’s… he has brutish ways about him. But on a rare occasion, he can surprise you with good deeds.”
The entire dining room fell silent, and the other girls stopped talking and gaped at something over Rilla’s shoulder. A trail of dread slithered across Rilla’s back. She pictured Lord Bluebeard, standing at the door, ready to claim his bride. Turning, she said, “What’s wro—”
Prince Armin stood a few feet behind her, beaming. Without the bruises on his face, he was breathtaking. From the waves in his dark brown hair to the way his teeth gleamed against his olive skin, he made even Jacques look ordinary.
Rilla squealed and jumped to her feet. “What are you doing here?”
The prince stepped forward, took her hand and kissed it. A chatter broke out in the dining hall, and Rilla’s heart burst with joy. “I’m here to see you, of course.”
A shocked laugh escaped Rilla’s mouth. She didn’t know what to say.
“Come on. I’ve cleared it with the Chancellor, and he says you can have the morning off from your studies.” Prince Armin held out his elbow.
“Bye, girls,” she said, her voice an excited whisper.
Dora, Scarlet and Greta stared back, too stunned to reply.
Aware of the scrutinizing gazes of all the other students, Rilla took the Prince’s arm, threw her shoulders back, and she strode proudly out of the dining hall. Footsteps sounded from behind, but she didn’t acknowledge whoever had followed to gape. She and Prince Armin walked through the hallways in silence, not speaking until they exited from the nearest set of double doors.
Although there was a slight chill in the breeze, the sun shone brightly in the clear sky. They walked around the side of the main building on the paved walkway, towards a part of the campus Rilla had not yet visited. It was a walled orchard of Midas pear and Golden Kallisti apple trees.
Prince Armin opened the tall, wooden gate. “We should have privacy here.”
Rilla gave him a smile and stepped in. The orchard was larger than she had expected, with trees growing from the lawn in long, tidy rows. Dotted around the space were wooden benches.
“Are negotiations with Tundra still going badly?” she asked.
The Prince snorted and led her to a seat. “The Queen’s envoys are making the most ridiculous of demands. I had to leave before I said something to plunge us into a decade-long war.”
“But won’t that—”
Prince Armin put his fingers on her lips. Rilla’s eyes widened. “I came here to see you, not talk of my troubles.”
She nodded, and he put his hand on his thigh.
“I received the strangest letter this morning,” he murmured
“Oh?”
“Someone said you had been punished for stealing an enchanted comb.”
Rilla bristled. “That’s not how it happened.” But she didn’t want to bother the Prince with her problems, not when he carried the burdens of the Seven Kingdoms. “It was a prank that went wrong.”
“I wouldn’t call being poisoned a prank.” He gave her a sidelong look and kept quiet.
Rilla swallowed and avoided his gaze. She felt so pathetic needing to offload her problems on someone she’d only recently met. The whole point of coming to Clement was so she wouldn’t be a victim anymore. Her whole life, she was subject to the whims and machinations of Mother, and she’d escaped the pain and subjugation for what? More of the same? She glanced up and met Prince Armin’s inquisitive gaze. It was hard to admit, especially in front of someone who’d only ever seen her as a strong, capable woman, that three petty and vindictive wretches had been making her life unbearable.
After another meaningful stare from her friend, she caved, and from her lips spilled the whole sorry tale of how she’d confronted Jacques, earning the enmity of the two Princesses.
“I’ll speak to them,” said Prince Armin.
“But I don’t want you fighting my battles.” She glanced away.
“Rilla.” The prince turned her head with gentle fingers. “I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t intervened on my behalf.”
She shrugged. “And thanks to me, we’re on the brink of war with Tundra.”
“No. That would have happened regardless of your actions. If those trolls had killed me, there’d be no heir to the Clement throne, and every Kingdom within our Union with an eligible son would be vying for control.”
“Really?”
He inclined his head. “Perhaps the trolls or whoever was behind them wanted to weaken us with a civil war.” He narrowed his eyes and poked Rilla in the arm. “We’re talking about me again.”
Rilla giggled.
After a pause, he said, “I can’t help but feel responsible for your plight.”
“What? That’s crazy.” She remembered who she was talking to. “Sorry. I mean—”
“Don’t treat me like the Crown Prince. It’s just Armin and Rilla here.” He held out his palm. “Friends.”
Rilla stared at his hand, wondering what in the Seven Kingdoms the gesture meant. His fingers twitched, making a beckoning motion, and she laughed and placed her hand in his. He clasped her hand and chuckled with her.
A scream interrupted their moment. A woman was stuck, upside down, in a giltberry bush at the edge of the orchard. It was clear she’d scaled the wall, trying to eavesdrop and had somehow overbalanced. Her head and torso were in the foliage and her bony legs kicked in the air.
“Doesn’t she ever give up?” Armin muttered.
“Who is that?” Rilla glanced at the Prince, whose face was a cold mask.
He squeezed her hand and stood. “It’s time we ended this nonsense. Come, Rilla.”
“O-okay.” Rilla allowed herself to be pulled up, and together, they walked toward the squirming figure in the bushes.
“Get up,” Armin spat.
Rilla’s eyes widened. She’d never seen her friend this angry before. “Who is that?”
“Someone who constantly puts herself into situations where I must rescue her. On her last attempt, she fell into the shallow end of the palace pond.”
Princess Freida crawled out from the bush, leaves and twigs in her hair. She stood and placed her hands on her hips, looking every bit the avenging wood sprite. “What are you doing with that common thief?”
Rilla balled her fists. “Tricking me into using a poisoned comb wasn’t enough, so you have to slander me too?”
The other woman ignored Rilla and focused her attentions on the Prince. “How could you consort with a common trollop?”
Armin let go of Rilla’s hand and stepped in front of Princess Freida. “There’s only one trollop in this garden, and it’s not the commoner. Your father neglected to inform us of the incidents that led to him sending you to the Academy, but word has spread to Clement of your exploits.”
“If you continue to slander Lady Rilla, everyone will know exactly why you’re unsuitable for a Royal marriage. And any more attempts, by you or your companions to hurt or humiliate Lady Rilla, and I will have you sent back to Vern.”
She blanched. “But my father—”
“If you want to avoid his wrath, I suggest you stay away from my friend. In fact, you’re no longer welcome at the palace.”
Freida’s face crumpled, and she let out gasping sobs like a blubber fish pulled out of the Lamented Lake. She reached out to grab the prince, but he stepped back.
“Leave us.”
She spun and ran out of the walled garden, wailing at the top of her voice.
“Is that what you meant earlier, when you said she was bothering me because of you?”
He nodded. “The King of Vern is putting Freida under pressure to secure herself as the next Queen of Clement. Refusing to cure Alec with a kiss was unforgivable, but her current behavior and the reports we’ve received of her past have made her unacceptable for court.”
“What did she do?”
Armin raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it enough that she victimized, poisoned and slandered my most valued friend?” Rilla stared down at her hands, hiding a smile. He offered her the crook of his elbow. “Let’s have a cup of tea.”
They retired to the common room, a place Rilla always avoided because it was where haughty nobles like Freida and Gwynter held court. It was like a cozy parlor, all in shades of blue, with groups of sofas, chaises and armchairs, set around coffee tables. Paintings of the generals who had founded the Academy adorned the walls, and a huge, welcoming fire roared at the far end of the room.
The tea service was already waiting for them at a table in front of a love seat. Rilla flushed at the choice of seating arrangement, but Armin made no comment. They sat, and she explained how Madam Florian had banned the clerks from passing on letters from Lord Florian. He promised to speak to the Lord High Steward about his wife’s conduct. Armin also told Rilla that his brother had been a cadet at the Academy, and he used to enjoy visiting him here in the common room and meeting the other students.
Armin even joined Rilla for lunch and sat with Dora, Scarlet and Greta. While the girls weren’t immune to his good looks, they didn’t fawn over him like some of the elite students.
Freida was noticeably absent from the Princess’s table, and Rilla wondered whether she was licking her wounds or planning a counter-attack. Gwynter kept glancing at Armin over her shoulder, and Jacques remained deep in conversation with Bianca, the fragile, pale Princess.
The gong sounded, but very few people got up to go to class. It seemed that they were waiting to see what the Prince did next. Even Madam Florian sat at the head table, staring at them with the vigilance of a gargoyle. A footman entered the dining hall and coughed discreetly.
Armin stood and bowed. “Well, ladies, it was a pleasure to meet you all.” He held out his hand to Rilla, and when she placed hers in his, he brought it to his lips. “Until next time, Lady Rilla.”
The room seemed to hold its collected breath as Armin strode to the exit of the dining hall. When he reached the door, he paused, turned and offered Rilla a wave and a smile. Chattering broke through the hall with the speed and volume of a rolling thunderstorm.
“He loves you!” said Dora.
Something warm bubbled in Rilla’s chest, but she shook her head. “We’re just friends.”
“You didn’t see the way he gazed at you. I know what a man looks like when he’s drooling over a wench.”
“Princes don’t drool,” said Rilla. But despite herself, a spring of hope emerged from within. “Besides, he was worried about me after the whole poisoned comb incident and came to see how I was.”
“You’re both right,” said Greta. “But I think he was sending a message to everyone that Rilla’s under his protection.”
“It was more like hands off, she’s mine.” Dora elbowed Scarlet in the ribs. “You didn’t see where his eyes went when he got up.”
Rilla cringed. She could guess what Dora would say next.
“Straight to her cleavage! Those corsets do nothing to hide your assets. Not one bit.” She cackled and walked to class with the others.
Rilla followed with a smile on her lips. Nothing, not any unpleasantness from her enemies or Dora’s bawdy quips could sour her mood.
General Cazador
Someone tapped Rilla’s shoulder while she was making her way out of the dining hall. It was a beaming Bruna. She was flanked by two other third cadets.
“Did you have a nice morning?”
Rilla smiled. “Yes. It was good to have a break from classes.”
The other two girls smiled back, and they all walked down the hallway. Dora, Scarlet and Greta strode ahead together, leaving Rilla with the older students. “These are Hilde and Sabine. They want to see if you’ll share any gossip about Prince Armin, and I’m here to ask whether you recovered from your stay in the infirmary.”
Rilla nodded. “It feels like the poison is out of my system, although I’m still a little tired.”
“Is he courting you, then?” asked one.
“It certainly looked like it from where we were sitting,” added the other, her eyes gleaming. “So, what’s he like?”
Rilla’s smile faded. These two hadn’t so much as looked at her when she was being ostracized by Madam Florian and the Princesses. “It’s very nice to meet you, ladies, but I don’t gossip about my friends.”
The girls accompanying Bruna split off and ascended a staircase while Bruna continued down the hallway with Rilla. “I heard you couldn’t hand in your Art of Assassination thesis.”
A sour resentment settled on Rilla’s tongue like curdled milk. “She said I’d failed, and if I failed one more class, I’d be out of the Academy.”
Bruna shook her head. “That’s tough. The only person who can overturn a failing grade is Professor Engel, and he’s away on business right now.”
“I doubt he’d undermine his deputy just for me.”
“You never know.” Bruna shrugged. “I’m the teaching assistant for General Cazador, so if you need any help with Magical Foes, or any other subjects, I’ll be able to help you.”
“Magical Foes?”
“That’s what we call Flora and Fauna, because it’s all about magic-related threats. It’s an interesting class, but the General seems to think there are enemies everywhere.”
They continued to the main staircase and climbed two flights of stairs. The tall windows made this part of the Academy building warmer than the others, as light filtered through the glass and warmed the walls and stone.
The second floor differed from the first, where the offices of staff members were located, because fewer doors lined the walls. It made sense, considering the size of the classrooms compared to the relatively small offices.
Bruna beamed. “Professor Engel says I can teach at the Academy when I graduate.”
Rilla’s jaw slackened. “I didn’t even know that was an option.”
“It isn’t. Most students have to serve in the field for years before being allowed back here to teach, but the Chancellor says if I graduate at the top of the class, I can apprentice under General Cazador.”
“Wow.” Rilla thought of the prospect of serving five years in the Academy, away from combat. It would be a wonderful opportunity, but probably not something offered to people who had failed their first subject. “I can’t imagine doing so well.”
Bruna patted Rilla’s arm. “I’ll help you. When I first joined, I could barely read or write. I used to spend all my time in the library struggling over the books. You already have the basics, so it won’t be difficult to help you succeed.”
“Thanks,” said Rilla. She didn’t know what she had done to deserve such a kind mentor.
General Cazador, the Magical Flora and Fauna teacher, did not l
ike latecomers, so Rilla fell in line with the others. She decided to approach Bruna later to look over her Assassination thesis and give her honest critique. She’d worked so hard on it, and Bruna could tell her whether it would have passed or failed. A second opinion would let her know whether she was at risk of failing another subject.
The General opened the door and barked at them to get inside. He was a stout man of nearly six feet, with a ruddy complexion and stern features. Still wearing his military uniform, he reminded Rilla of a portrait she’d seen in the common room of an Academy founder.
Everyone piled onto the wooden benches, and General Cazador paced the front of the classroom, waiting for any students running late. He wore an irritated grimace. Rilla wondered if the rumors were true: that he’d sustained a fatal injury while serving in the Army but stayed alive out of sheer stubbornness. She believed it. The man was firm and strict, dedicated to his duties at the Academy with almost comical diligence.
When the last students had taken their seats, the General asked, “Which is the most dangerous magical race?”
Jacques raised his hand, “Giants.”
Millissa said, “Imps.”
“Trolls,” said Behr, a prince from Estiv.
“Wrong,” snapped the General. “It’s witches.”
A hush fell over the classroom. Rilla sat up straight, considering her secret, fear thrumming in her chest. Since she had no physical characteristics of a magical race, she could most likely be a witch.
“Witches are the most dangerous beings you will ever meet. They are as human as you and me. Witches can live amongst us undetected to cast their mischief. Be aware and don’t let them fool you. Decent people have fallen prey to these insidious creatures. Look at our poor Prince Alec, condemned to life as a frog through malicious enchantment… and other circumstances.”
He glared in Freida’s direction. She huffed and turned up her nose, seeming not to have any shame about her role in the Prince’s predicament.
“On top of that, witches can curse you to have slugs fall out of your mouth. They trick parents into eating their own children. You understand the danger? We cannot abide it. They are the enemy amongst us, making them the most deadly of all.”