Page 28 of Beast and Remedy (The Last of the Heirs #2)

The Bear in the Room

M y knife scratches against my plate, my jaw clenching as I harness in my terror at Leo’s question silencing the room.

“Leo!” Beau scolds, the venom behind his anger making me flinch as fists hit the table and someone sighs.

I want to look up, I do. But I can’t move. I can’t face them.

Not even Marian.

All I can do is stare at my untouched food, my appetite evaporating.

“What? We needed to ask it sooner or later,” Leo responds casually.

No one says a word, and my heart hammers in the middle of my throat. Heat bursts across my skin as a cold sweat trickles down my neck.

I knew it was going to happen—I just wasn’t expecting them to be so brazen about it. But I should’ve known better. Especially whenever Leo is involved.

I peer up, watching Leo cut his meat and lift the fork to his mouth. He eats his meal with nonchalance despite his veins bulging.

“So, tell us,” Leo enunciates before driving his point deeper into me like a dagger plunging into my back. “Oh, wait, how about you pinpoint the timeframe. Was it one year? Three? Five?”

I bristle under his scrutiny, vexed over his lack of manners, lack of care, lack of anything respectful, and tighten my hold on my knife.

Someone’s hand finds mine, the soft touch cool. And yet I still shake, my skin clammy against his, calloused from years of training. Hunting. Killing .

The reminder of what Beau is capable of flashes through my mind, making me second-guess my own beliefs—my own feelings.

I rip my hand away from Beau’s as Leo scoffs at our lack of rebuttal.

“Better yet, answer this. Was it before or after you came to us for help?” Leo asks, expanding on his question.

The room remains quiet, their own minds probably thinking the same things Leo was brave enough to voice first.

Lifting my head, my eyes flick directly to Jules, Marcel, and Christine, all wearing wary grimaces. And I don’t know why, but it makes me even more angry that no one tries to talk Leo down or reassure my sister and me.

I don’t want to torture myself with a glance at Beau because, I swear, if I do and see a similar look, I might explode.

I peer over at Marian, seeing her own uncertainty, and the few bites of the roll I enjoyed threatens to crawl out onto my dinner plate. Taking another deep breath, I calm the tension and fury as I twist to Leo, the only one still eating.

The cocky ego ripples off him in waves as if he achieved something, and I can’t hold in my seething wrath.

“Maybe it was when you all believed my sister and I didn’t share the same beliefs as our father.”

“And when would we have figured that out?” Leo counters.

Leo always acted better than me. He was the one who teased and taunted me, convincing my friends and his family to avoid me during my adolescence.

We barely explored a peaceful friendship in adulthood after Beau came into his role, but now, it seems he is choosing to go back to where we started as teens.

And I won’t have any of it. Especially when all I want to do is claw off his smug smirk.

“Maybe when I refrained from eating you on sight in my other form,” I snarl, unplagued by guilt.

“Vivienne!” Marian’s shock tightens her voice, but I don’t bother acknowledging her.

I’m too busy watching Leo’s jaw slacken in surprise.

Even if he was defending his brother, his king, I still can’t refrain from biting deeper. My protective instincts for myself, for my family, scratch the itch of power harboring within me.

“And the next time you assume wrong in anything relating to my sister and me, you better be armed—” I darken my stare and bare my teeth as Leo glares, his features changing into a sneer.

“Because I have claws now, Leo Rousselot. And if you continue to assume you know everything about me, my family, and what we’ve gone through these last few years, don’t think for one second I will hesitate to use them on you. ”

Leo remains tight-lipped as Marian grips my hand.

I ignore her again, wanting Leo to relent before we reveal anything.

I’m not a child anymore, and he doesn’t get to walk all over me. Ally or enemy, he is better than that.

A muscle along his jaw twitches before he inclines his head in a wordless apology.

Air barely returns to my lungs as my sister groans.

I whirl. “Marian, are you—”

My sister touches her forehead, shaking. “I-I don’t feel well. Something”—she slumps—“something doesn’t—”

A chill of fear shoots down my spine as her eyelashes flutter, panic crippling me as she sways and collapses face first on her plate of food.

“Marian!” I shriek as chairs screech, everyone moving.

I touch my sister’s throat, trying to feel her pulse.

It’s slow. Too slow.

Beau circles me, his steps quick as his hand touches mine. I recoil, the heat catching me off guard. But he pays no attention to me, seeking the same pulse.

He guides Marian back and touches her forehead, her cheeks, and her neck. “Come on, Marian.”

But she isn’t waking.

Desperately taking matters into my own hands, I grab my cup and pour the entirety of its contents on her. The wine hits her, and her eyelashes flutter, and relief buckles me down.

I collapse into my chair, the distress whooshing through me as I let the glass fall away. Tremors seize my lungs, my heart, and my soul when her dreary eyes meet mine, blinking.

“Vi?” she croaks.

I cast aside my panic and spring forward, my napkin at the ready, and pat her face clean. “I’m here.”

She hums with approval, still looking faint as she takes my hand and squeezes twice.

My heart stutters, and I almost break, but I shove down my emotions with a tight-lipped smile as I send the message back.

Beau stands above us, studying Marian. “You fainted.”

Everyone else inspects her curiously, but I ignore them all, my focus on her despite the crash from my own heightened fear approaching.

My voice wobbles through the knot forming in my throat. “I-I’m sorry about the wine. I-I wasn’t thinking—”

“You were.” Beau clasps my shoulder.

The touch is warm, like it could set my body ablaze without warning. A touch I’ve missed for years. A touch I’ve loved— craved .

The heat from his proximity soothes the tension in my limbs, and I want to ease into it.

I want to relax against him. I want to savor his intoxicating scent and mold myself to him. I want to breathe in the air I haven’t felt capable of breathing for seven years.

Him .

I want him.

“Forgive me for not acting sooner,” Beau utters, defeat and resignation dipping his voice. “Forgive me for everything.”

I lift my chin, seeking his golden eyes, but his sadness keeps him from looking at me. The unburdening of myself—of everything that’s happened with our kingdoms—feels easier to share now with him so close.

His proof of care is evident, and explaining ourselves now, when we may never get another chance to, feels like fate.

We may not be able to ask for his help, but we can offer our own apologies.

I swallow, hoping for control as I hold his hand still on my shoulder. It’s enough for his eyes to widen and finally meet mine.

My soul flutters .

Deities, he is breathtaking.

“There is nothing to forgive,” I tell him, my twin encouraging me with a nod before I take in the rest of our friends. “We are the ones who should be seeking forgiveness from all of you.”

Marian scoots up. “You have been and still are friends to me and Vi. But we can’t say the same for our father, even though we have tried over the years to change his mind.”

My sister’s brown eyes turn to me, the two of us sharing a long, shaky breath.

The heaviness and thoughts we shared about Torgem, kept private for so long, finally admitted aloud and amongst our friends. It eases the pressure in my chest.

Beau’s light envelops me, and I dare a glance, instantly regretting it.

His damned gaze heats. Full of curiosity. Full of hope.

“I-I—” Beau coughs into his fist, separating contact with me. “I-I am honored to you”—his voice cracks—“ both of you, for sharing that with us.”

Marian’s voice is soft and quiet as she speaks. “Vi and I have wanted to share that for years. Torgem was always our closest ally.”

“And I would never seek to jeopardize the friendship and alliance we had,” Beau offers back, touching his chest as sadness creeps through his eyes. “It broke my heart when the King of Belmur assumed otherwise and ignored our every effort to communicate.”

An ache presses against my ribs at his doleful expression. “It broke our hearts, too—”

Beau perks up, and I add, “Y-Your Majesty.”

His dimples appear, and a swirl of magic and longing flips my stomach.

Leo rests a hand on his brother, comforting him in a way I wish I could. “I think it broke all of our hearts,” he says, his solemn expression echoed by the others.

“But I think I speak for all of us when I say it truly is good to see you both again.” Beau smiles, and my stupid heart flutters.

Everyone nods, grins expanding amongst friends and family.

Yet the melancholy reminder of the virus in my kingdom pulls this small joy from me.

We may have come to an understanding tonight, but that’s all it can be. Marian and I need to get home. We’ve done our part in warning them, and I pray to the Makers my friends will remain up to date through Tove and Jerrick now.

It has to be this way.

Jules and Christine remain close as Marcel asks, “Does she need another healing session?”

“I-I think I need some rest,” Marian says.

Beau looks between my sister and me, a muscle in his jaw twitches as if he is restraining himself. Hesitation lingers behind his stare, and I know something is wrong.

I can’t stop from pressing. “What is it?”

But he doesn’t say anything, and Marcel crosses his arms as Leo rakes a hand through his hair.

The three men remain quiet. Too quiet.

“What is what?” Christine asks Beau.

He regards his sister, adoration softening his features before he scratches his clean-shaven jaw. “It’s something I was hoping to discuss privately with the princesses, but—”

“But what?” Jules demands and rests her hands on her hips.

Marian groans, stealing our attention.

I lean in, touching her forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“I-I-I feel fine. Just—just tired.”

But her words don’t comfort me. Rather, they worry me.

I lift my gaze to the men once more, my heart getting the better of me as I grab Beau’s forearm.

He studies where I touch him, stirring my foolish heart with longing. But I push past it, needing him to tell me what he is poorly hiding.

“Beau?” I squeeze his arm gently. “What are you not saying?”

He licks his lips, then bites the lower one in contemplation before blurting out, “Marian is infected.”