Page 14 of Beast and Remedy (The Last of the Heirs #2)

He simply stands with his arms folded, scanning and assessing the crowd.

My father looks as if he, too, is trying to help the village.

But if they were all killed...

“My citizens, this is a trying time for our people. Rest assured, we will look into this matter, and with that, we will end today’s session. Thank you all again for visiting and may next month be a brighter time for us.” Papa gestures for everyone to leave, the guards seeing his order through.

I rise and hurry to him.

Jean helps the woman up, but her knees give out, and Papa and I rush to catch her.

“Are you alright?” I ask when I feel her clammy skin, hot to the touch.

She blinks warily. “I’m a little dizzy.”

“Jean, have the staff prepare a room and have healers at the ready for treatment,” Papa says and turns to the woman. “Annie, you have endured a tragedy, one that is unfathomable, and I am deeply sorry. I promise the crown will take care of you and investigate this.”

Annie drops her head, and my chest cracks when she shudders, falling apart. “Th-Th-Thank you, my king.” She hyperventilates. “Th-Th-Thank you.”

My father pats her back. “You can rest now, sweet Annie. You are safe.”

She wipes her cheeks, sniffling as Jean braces her against him to help her walk.

“You said you were attacked by one of the wolves?” I rush out, unable to stop the question from falling from my lips.

Her steps halt and she glances back, her face full of grief and fragility. “Y-Yes, Your Highness.”

Papa touches my side, but I shake it off, extending my hand to her. “May I take a quick look at your injury?”

Jean and Annie twist to me, and she tentatively offers me her bandaged forearm. I step forward and remove the wrapping, careful to mask my grimace at her inflamed wound oozing puss from the claw marks etched into her flesh.

“I’m glad you arrived when you did, or you would have soon fallen ill from not treating this properly. I’d like to check on your progress with our healers. They can make a salve I created to ease the inflammation, help this scab, and reduce chances of scarring,” I say as I meet her gaze.

Her lip quivers, and she blinks away her tears as I rewrap the bandage.

“Was there anything about the wolves you saw to be unusual?” I ask.

Her brows knit, hesitating. “They were thrashing and snarling amongst themselves as much as amongst my village.”

“Was there anything else? Anything at all you noticed?”

I shouldn’t push her, but I need something. Anything that could confirm or relieve my suspicion.

Annie rubs her arm in uncertainty. Her trauma is fresh and must be painful to revisit. But she takes a long, shuddering breath.

“The one leading the pack had black-and-white fur, and its eyes were black, like the color was snuffed out. And its mouth was foaming.”

More than a fortnight has passed since the devastation at C’eaux.

The healers and I looked over Annie, puzzled by her symptoms. Her injury healed with minimal scarring, but she is still ill, worsening by the day. We are at a loss over how to help her.

And today, I left the healers to administer a different treatment for her fever before joining my family in my father’s study.

Small windows surrounded by gray stone pair with metal embellishments and frame oak bookcases housing ledgers, sacred texts, and accounts.

Tall chairs surround the table with a map of Draymenk stretched to each corner, marking old and new territories, trade routes, and villages.

Placeholders rest in certain areas to indicate the flow and running of our armed forces, bannermen, and more.

“How is Annie doing?” Papa asks before I’ve settled in my seat.

“She isn’t improving, but the healers and I are trying another avenue,” I sigh, vexed no one else has checked on her.

Jean and Pierre told us to let the healers watch over her for our own health, and while Papa and Marian agreed, I ignored them, wanting to oversee her treatments.

“Now, do we have any—”

The door bursts open, startling us as one of Pierre’s closest emissaries stumbles through, covered in blood.

I clutch my chest at the gravity of the man’s injuries.

“Pierre,” he croaks, trembling with something in his hand. “Wolf. Attack .”

We all shoot up from our chairs to rush to help. But he collapses.

“Alec! Marius! Bronn!” Jean orders. “Fetch a heal—”

I stop him. “Look at his chest.”

Jean does and closes his eyes with resignation, rescinding his command.

“He’s dead.” Pierre squats, peeling the letter from the dead man with a grimace.

He opens and reads the contents before crunching the note into his fist. Only after dropping it into the blood does he snap his fingers at Alec and Marius to take the emissary’s body.

The two step forward with no complaint, careful with each movement. Alec’s sadness matches his brother’s as they ease the man between them, hauling the lifeless form away.

Bronn scans each of us, ensuring we are alright before he fetches a staff member to clean up the remnants of the deep, dark liquid already seeping its mark into the floor.

Pierre rises and closes the door, his scowl deeper than usual. “Auriville was attacked.”

Marian gasps as Jean runs a hand through his hair.

“His report echoes what happened in C’eaux,” Pierre resigns when he spins to us, his blue eyes somber as he adjusts his vest.

“No survivors?” Papa asks. “Not a single one?”

Pierre only dips his chin, and my father slumps into the closest chair before slamming his fist on the table.

“What is happening ?” he snarls as he rubs his temples.

Marian and I exchange a glance, and I know in my bones she sees this evidence as proof of my suspicions.

I caused this, and it’s spreading .

Affecting animals . Affecting people. My people.

“Papa, we should evacuate Nadee before they’re attacked next,” I plea, and the three men governing this kingdom look at me with reproval.

“And where would the citizens go?” Pierre asks.

“We could bring them here,” I suggest.

“And what if we need to evacuate another village? What then? We don’t have enough room to shelter everyone from animal attacks.”

My rebuttal is on the tip of my tongue as another guard, Riker, opens the door without admission. His stoic gaze matches the deep wrinkles etched in his forehead as his low voice hurries out, “Your Majesty, a healer is here.”

Jean replies. “I told the others we didn’t need—”

Phoebe, one of our long-serving healers, fills in the doorframe, her breathing ragged. “I’m here to report about Annie.”

My stomach sinks. “What is wrong?” I step toward Phoebe, ready to rush with her to the healing wing.

Phoebe raises her hand, halting me. “She… she’s gone.”

My heart wrenches, twisting and crashing against my chest.

“What?” Marian startles.

Nausea builds in my gut as I fight to remain upright. Stepping back, I grip the chair and try to keep down the bile.

“After we administered a tonic for her fever she began thrashing— convulsing .” Phoebe pauses, her words echoing the defeated crack in her voice. “The Makers didn’t even grant us the time to stop the seizure before she just stopped moving.”

I should’ve known. I should’ve watched over her more carefully.

Maybe if I stayed and observed her, the underlying symptom would have revealed itself. Maybe it would have given me and our healers a better chance to help her.

“I thought it was important to share the news,” Phoebe adds. “Please forgive us for failing her.”

“You all did your best,” Papa says with gentleness. “Thank you for updating us.”

I flinch, his encouragement feeling more like a slap than comfort.

If I did my best, Annie would still be alive.

I clench my fists, letting my waves fall forth, concealing me as I grapple with my temper unfurling.

Chairs drag across the floor, and I sweep my hair back.

I lower into my seat alongside my family, gritting my teeth as I struggle to calm my unraveling nerves. But Phoebe is gone, and the doors are closed once more, caging me in with my guilt and failure.

Pierre grunts, “We should send a troop down to patrol villages and remain stationed there.”

“We should be cautious before showing up with armed forces. We don’t need to scare anyone,” Jean cuts in.

My father squints, looking over the map with consideration as he scratches his beard. “I wish we didn’t need to make a big deal of this.”

Marian’s voice tightens. “But people have died. Annie just di —”

“I know!” he snaps, and my sister and I wince.

Papa slackens from our wariness and pinches the bridge of his nose, inhaling a long breath. The thick tension weighs on each of us, and Jean’s expression offers one of sympathy while Pierre’s blue eyes narrow, his grimace worsening.

Papa lowers his hand and meets our gazes.

“I know this news is hard to receive, but we are all here to find a solution.” He quirks his lip, a form of an apology for his outburst. “Now, animal attacks happen, but not at this level. One, I can understand, but two more? And killing an entire village? No. Something is amiss. And I don’t like it one bit.

I think it best to send a small troop to Auriville to search for any survivors first before we do anything. ”

“But what if that pack of wolves didn’t return to the woods? What if they return and kill the troops? Or worse, attack another village like Nadee or even Vilbirn?” I ask.

“Then, I guess the Protector of Beasts should have ensured compliance amongst all creatures so we wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with,” Pierre responds, leveling his anger at me.

“Pierre!” Jean gasps as I recoil, my nails digging into my palm as shame and fury strike me from the truth behind his words.

Marian takes one of my white-knuckled fists and squeezes, and I meet her gold-flecked brown irises, a hardness reflecting back.

A low snarl pulls my attention as my father turns on his advisor.

His friend. “You will never —and I mean never —suggest Vivienne is not doing her duty and putting herself at risk every time she sets foot in those woods.” He prods a finger against his friend’s chest. “Do not make me remind you of your place again. Is that clear?”

Pierre nods once. “Yes.”

Papa draws back. “Now apologize to your future queen.”

I gulp.

The words future and queen send my skin crawling. The term is not one I am used to but one I will have to get accustomed to.

Pierre’s sunken features molded into his signature sneer find me, and we hold the other’s stare in silence.

I want to default and apologize first, but Pierre’s low raspy voice screeches against my ears.

“Forgive me. Emotions are… high right now.”

I press my lips together, understanding his outburst, but I still feel guilty over what he said. And how right he was. But I swallow and nod my acceptance of his apology.

Marian’s voice fills the awkward tension building in the room. “I think we should have two groups of troops. One for Auriville and the other can reach out to Nadee. And when Vi has to shift again, we can check out Haliver Woods.”

I turn to tell her no, but Papa interjects, “I don’t want either of you out there.”

She hunches against the table. “Vi must shift, regardless of what you wish. And we know that forest better than anyone else. I can venture with her and help protect her. Maybe even find a clue or something.”

“Sweetheart, I can’t have you putting yourself at risk—”

“I wasn’t there for Mama.” Marian’s voice cracks, and her head falls, hiding her pain.

My heart tugs at the helplessness she must carry. It is much like my own, but I think it goes to a deeper level for her.

Marian and Mama were on the same side of a coin. Nearly everything was alike between them. From their matching eye color to their bright demeanor and eagerness to be outdoors.

They knew and understood patience, being a balance to me and Papa with our short tempers, always offering support and comfort. Always finding our hand and squeezing it twice.

But none of us were there to protect Mama. None of us were there to support her. Comfort her.

And I think it eats at Marian the most.

Marian sniffs before glancing up. “I am going to protect Vi, as if my own life depends on it.”

“Marian, you don’t have to,” I offer, but her red tresses flip as her brown eyes meet mine, filled with determination.

“Of course I do.”

“Let’s get through dispersing some small squads first,” Jean fills in.

But anger and grief fill the room, making the rational and strategic decisions for running a kingdom harder to work through.

Everyone’s emotions are high, even more so since the mention of Mama.

Failure, helplessness, and remorse have accompanied us all. The great companions to misery.

They all intensify within my mind—my heart—my soul.

And each one takes its turn creeping forth for the remainder of the day, tormenting me and stirring up emotions I have constantly fought and forced down these last seven years.