Page 27 of Beast and Remedy (The Last of the Heirs #2)

Chafing Is the Worst

M arian helped me to the bathing chambers, refusing to say anything until I cleaned up.

I waited until she left the room before opening my palm, hiding a small piece of folded paper. Each crease tugs at my heart, memories of past letters exchanged all throughout my relationship with Beau stirring my feelings.

I unfold the note, taking a deep breath as my hands tremble and stomach flutters.

Our favorite place after dinner.

Love,

Beau

Love…

Longing swells in my chest, the never-ending ache twitching— begging me to answer his call. Even after crumbling the paper, I want to treasure this piece of him. Me. Us.

But I tuck it behind the basin until tomorrow, when I can take it with me to join the rest of letters from Beau hidden back home.

“So, no one, not even Beau’s advisors, has said a thing to you about the banishment?” I ask my sister after dressing in a dark-green gown.

Marian rests on the wide bed, big enough for three to four people, her deep red dress draped around her. The moon shines through the sheer curtains, the pale light casting against one side of her face while the warmth of the candles on the table illuminate her other cheek.

“Nothing at all,” she sighs, her feet dangling off the edge of the bed.

She kicks against the mattress as I dry the ends of my hair, hoping to soak up any lingering water adding extra weight to my long wavy locks.

“They probably wanted to wait till you were well,” I suggest.

“That’s the thing, though.” She eases upright, her hair sticking up from rubbing it against the sheets. “I don’t remember what they did for me when we got here. What I do remember is waking completely healed, and you nowhere in sight.”

I toss the towel to the side, deep in thought as I finger-comb my waves. “Did they say where I went?”

“Yeah, they filled me in. And believe me, I wanted to play it off, but with everyone saying they saw you…” She grimaces. “It was hard to hide.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

It doesn’t matter that we know Queen Tove’s and Beau’s abilities.

I’m over here breaking the one rule of sharing one’s magical gifts with other kingdoms the instant I see my friends again for the first time in years.

No one was supposed to know. No one was supposed to see.

And I hate the protectiveness clinging to me now, telling me to keep the esprit a secret from Marian.

“I’m sure they’ll bombard us with questions tonight,” I sigh.

“We don’t have to tell them anything.”

“No, that would make matters worse. Maybe we can leverage something?”

Marian huffs. “You’re joking.”

I shrug.

“Vi.” She laughs again. “We have nothing to leverage. We are in their lands, in their home, and needing their help.”

I rub my eyebrows through the mental exhaustion of the ever-growing mess I have created. “I’m not sure we should even ask anymore.”

“I thought you said Beau could—”

“It doesn’t matter what I said!” I snap. “We will only stir up more trouble for ourselves if we were to ask for help.”

Being around him again will jeopardize my people. My strength and resolve are already fraying with my heartbreak the longer we are here.

I can’t have his help. I can’t ask for it. It will wreck me more when we have to part.

Marian remains quiet, observing me with worry.

I brush it off, not ready to share how bad it truly is to be here. “We need to offer our thanks and head out tomorrow. I don’t want to delay aiding our kingdom any longer.”

Marian approaches and clasps my shoulder. Meeting her freckled face, sorrow and guilt line her features. “Don’t take this all on yourself, Vi. We both fucked up.”

The gnawing shame and failure fester.

Turning away, I close my eyes, catching myself from crumbling. “I wish I never sought out a way to reduce my shifting pain. If I hadn’t set down this path, none of this would have ever happened.”

“Vi.”

Her voice lowers, and it tugs at me even more.

“If I never set down this path, you wouldn’t have almost died!” I yell, my anger not fazing her as she hugs me.

“Vi.”

She comforts me, but I can’t help the rage fueling my heart, drawing everything to the surface.

Riker, Alec, Marius, and Bronn flash in my mind. Annie.

Their deaths. Their blood.

So. Much. Blood.

So. Much. Death.

I shudder and fist her dress, needing to remove the horrifying images. “I’m so sorry, Marian.”

She squeezes me twice, and I return it in little bursts, trying to calm my frustration.

Two squeezes.

Pause.

Two squeezes.

Pause.

Two squeezes.

“I’m okay, Vi. I promise.” She pulls away, her brown eyes meeting mine. “I’m okay—we’re okay, and we are going to fix this.”

She grins, pulling our foreheads together. “You and me. We will fix this.”

Her resolve and her faith in me are something I’ll never deserve.

I slump into her embrace, everything crashing against me like a tidal wave. The agreement is the only thing keeping me upright.

If I could have this same feeling with Beau… Deities, I shouldn’t see him after dinner.

I really shouldn’t. But I want to see him.

But what if everything has changed?

If something changed, he wouldn’t have written love in the note, Vi.

Could he be using me? Take advantage of me? Kill me like he killed Mama?

No. He didn’t kill Mama. You know he didn’t, Vi.

He would never do such a thing. Never .

Too many skilled warriors and hunters participated in the celebratory hunt on our name day. Kings, princes, princesses, and citizens all gathered and joined in.

It could have been anyone.

But Marian told me Beau was the one carrying Mama’s corpse, and it was all Papa could see—all he could think about.

And no matter how hard everyone tried to convince him otherwise, he only believed what he saw, believed it was evidence enough to cast out our closest allies and brand them as enemies.

Papa didn’t even try to listen to Beau or Beau’s advisors, too consumed with grief and pain and rage. He hardly listened to me, Marian, Jean, and Pierre. Rather, he became a shell of a person, his temper igniting anytime we brought up Mama and when we offered to look into finding her real killer.

He firmly believed and has stayed set in his ways all these years, refusing to budge, even consider a different possibility. The root cause of his stubbornness is too difficult to decipher now.

And no matter how hard we want him to heal, I’m afraid he refuses to let go of this because it is the last thing he truly has of her.

“Vi?” Marian pulls away, interrupting my thoughts. “You alright?”

“Yes,” I lie. “We better head down.”

I lose myself in nostalgia as we wander the familiar halls.

Memories of my younger years when Marian and I visited Torgem, enjoying the summers bunking with Jules or Christine. We’d play hide and seek and make-believe as children.

The boys, though older than us all, were happy to oblige and catered to all our wishes.

The games evolved into reading sessions with Jules and Christine as my twin begged to go hunting with the men.

Eventually, everyone went outdoors and ignored me, leaving me to spend most of my adolescence alone in a library full of books.

“Did the bath help?” Marian asks.

“Yes.” I sigh, the past still running through my thoughts.

I read every day when I visited Torgem, from morning until night. And only in my twenties did those late hours become a time when I wasn’t alone.

Beau would always find his way to me.

Keep him at a distance, Vi.

I can’t melt into his warmth—can’t show him how much he affects me.

I’ve been tight-lipped, thank Yeva. But if I’m not careful, I’m going to slip up. And I do not want anyone close by if that happens.

“Good. I was a little worried for you after so much riding,” Marian comments, and her conversation steers my thoughts to my sore legs.

I chuckle. “The heat soothed my thighs. But the chafing from riding, fuck, that stung.”

Marian bursts into a fit of laughter. “Chafing is the absolute worst.”

We snicker as we step down the grand marble staircase, following the staff carrying trays of food into the dining hall.

Attendants move around the area, silverware clanking against the porcelain plates they put down on the wide table stretching across the length of the room. Dozens of chairs line each side, and red roses reside in gilded vases, the soft fragrance of the blooms making my heart pang.

Candles light the surface in sets of three, blanketed by a long fabric runner for decoration. Lanterns hang on the walls, pairing with the crystal chandeliers, illuminating the area rather than the mural ceiling in the grand hall.

Marcel, Christine, and Jules sit close on the left side. Marcel arches back with a wide, toothy grin, while Jules and Christine hover over him, cheerful in conversation.

Beau and Leo discuss something private at the head of the table. Beau talks with his hands, whispering to Leo, closed off and scratching his jaw. Although younger, Leo still stands near his brother’s height, their bright blond hair cut and styled the same.

“Marian! Vi!”

Jules’s voice fills the room.

Beau tenses, our eyes barely catching before I break my stare, turning to my old friend.

Christine swivels, an arm draping across the back of the chair with a smile. The two girls stand and rush to us as the three men glance warily at each other.

“Vi!” Christine’s high voice sings in my ear when she hugs me, squeezing tight. “You are looking so much better than when you first arrived!”

She stiffens, and I worry I hurt her or something until she adds, “Not to say you looked ugly when you arrived or that I think you are ugly. You are beautiful. I meant to say you look—”

“I know what you meant.” I laugh. “Don’t worry, I feel like I look better too.”

Breaking away, she chuckles, her blonde curls enhancing her youth and sunny disposition. “Much better.”

“I hate to say it, but I agree,” Jules adds as she too pulls away, her black gown a contrast to Christine’s beige one.

My eye roll is instant, and Jules elbows my side. I wince, ribs still sore from this morning.

“Princesses, I must apologize for not offering you an escort,” Beau says as he moves to the right, pulling out two chairs.

Christine brushes off her brother’s comment. “Oh, hush with that nonsense. They clearly remembered the way.” She takes Jules’s hand, interlacing their fingers, and walks to Marcel on the left.

Leo helps himself to his seat on the right side. “She is right, you know,” he comments, his voice deeper than I remember.

“I’m always right,” Christine teases as she reaches the end, kissing Marcel.

Jules touches his bicep before the three get comfortable, and Leo grumbles.

“Please,” Beau’s rich voice calls back, gesturing. “Join us.”

I follow my sister down the right side, my pulse quickening as she settles beside Leo, leaving the last vacant seat closest to the head of the table. To Beau.

He sweeps up my hand and eases me into my chair, his warmth radiating when his thumb rubs my knuckles.

It leaves me touch-starved and achy when he lets go.

I glance at my sister and catch Leo winking at her. Sweet Makers. He still thinks he’s good with flirting, and I wish I could scoff.

Staff enter with more trays, larger and gilded like the rest of the room, and my eyes bulge when the rich spices hit my nostrils.

Holding my stomach, I wait patiently, manners and protocol instinctively kicking in to stifle my animalistic need to gorge. But when I take a bite of a roll, the closest and most delicious thing near me, I let out a low, appreciative moan.

Beau’s knee bumps mine underneath the table, and my eyes shoot open, mouth slack-jawed when I meet his heated stare.

Swallowing quickly, I say, “Thank you for the food. And please thank your staff as well.”

Marian adds, “Torgem has the best food.”

I break away from Beau’s gaze, adding a decent helping of food to my plate. My mouth waters with eager anticipation of the meal, and as I hold my fork, Leo’s baritone voice reaches my ears.

“So, when did you two finally come to the conclusion that my brother wasn’t the one who killed your mother?”