Page 33 of Beast and Remedy (The Last of the Heirs #2)

The Definition of a Monarch

E sme, Hugo, Veryon, and Odette join us the following morning, reviewing the meeting they had last night with Beau. Everyone agreed our friends would accompany us, Marcel and Leo being added protection, and Jules and Christine lending a hand in research and tonics.

As we left Beau’s advisors, and each one hugged and wished us safe travels, the weight of my burden began to feel manageable.

With help coming from the other kingdoms, and from my friends, hope stirred in my chest. All I can do now is pray Jean and Pierre, too, will be on board with our plans.

“Think they’ll be alright on their own in Vilbirn?” Marian asks as we reach the stables near the back entrance of our home in the early twilight of the following day.

We left our friends at one of the taverns in town, still open for travelers with my father’s permission, trusting them to hide out and wait for us to speak with Jean and Pierre.

It’s going to be hard to convince them to let Beau and the others into the castle. And it’ll be even harder to convince them not to tell Papa what we are up to. But we need all the help we can get.

Beau is Marian’s only hope. Beau is my only hope…

I shake away the thought, needing to keep my distance. My focus has to be on finding a remedy.

“As long as Leo doesn’t try to sleep with the entire town, and they don’t reveal who they are,” I quip.

Marian snorts as I dismount my horse. Still worried about her, I move to assist as she swings her leg over the saddle, and the small shift of her balance has me jolting forward.

She playfully pushes me away, helping herself down and dusting off her cloak. “I’m fine. No need to be so jumpy.”

I press my lips together. “Right. Sorry.”

I’ve been monitoring her carefully, noting anything that could be a potential symptom.

When Beau healed her before we left, she didn’t remember what was revealed at dinner. And when we told her, she handled it in stride, her pride and belief in me shining despite exhaustion taking over her features.

She grimaces. “Are you alright, Vi?”

Marian knew something else was wrong during our travels, and she tried to ask me when we had a moment to ourselves. But I spun a half-truth, avoiding anything revolving around Beau.

Mentioning him meant acknowledging my feelings. And the feelings I have are not good right now.

I nod before glancing toward where we left our friends, debating whether we should have had Beau come with us to use his powers on her once more for good measure.

Marian takes my hand and squeezes it twice. “It’s going to be okay. We are going to be okay.”

I inhale a sharp breath, tension coiling in my chest. “Let’s get this over with. I don’t want Jean and Pierre to think anything is amiss.” I squeeze her hand back for moral support.

She loops her arm through mine. “It already is amiss.”

I flinch at her morbid reminder, bloodied faces and lifeless eyes flashing in my mind as we drop off our horses and seek out Jean and Pierre.

The images terrorize me as we drift past the skeleton staff of mostly healers and guards. And the pit in my stomach deepens as groans of exhaustion and pain whisper in the halls.

My grip turns into steel, my restraint fraying and magic stirring from this incessant need to help them.

When we make it up a set of stairs, Marian and I catch our breaths, hers more winded than mine. She gives me the go-ahead, and we press on, knocking on the second door down the corridor.

It creaks against its metal hinges as Jean fills the doorframe. “Princesses.”

He pulls us into an embrace, and I welcome it.

Pierre watches us, his arms braced against the table. His tense body relaxes, and his nose wrinkles through the tight smile he offers.

Jean breaks away, ushering us in. He reunites with his husband on one end of the desk as Marian settles in one of the two burgundy seats.

But I remain standing, clutching onto the chair for support as my nerves run rampant.

“Were your travels safe?” Pierre asks, his voice raspy as he runs a hand through his disheveled hair.

Marian offers a clipped response. “Yes, for the most part.”

Pierre’s expression remains calm as Jean looks at us with confusion. “For the most part? What happened?”

“A lot. But before we say anything, we need you both to hear us out—and not tell Papa,” I say, fidgeting with my clothes before straightening my posture to mask my anxiety.

I need to keep calm. If they sense anything is awry, our plan will crumble.

Pierre grunts, low and disapproving. “You cannot expect us to keep information affecting the kingdom from your father. Especially when it involves his children.”

Marian rears back as anger shoots up my spine.

Pierre was going to be the more difficult one to convince. I hate that I wished, for once, it was different. But we need them not to tell Papa.

I try to reiterate—

“We were ambushed,” Marian interjects.

“You what ?” Jean’s voice cracks and he balks.

Fury etches Pierre’s shocked expression, his wrinkles deepening with his pinching eyebrows, and his eyes promise Oblivion to anyone who would harm us.

“It was a wolf attack,” Marian says, placing her hands on her lap.

Jean’s mouth is still slackened with disbelief as he slumps into his seat.

The wolves. Riker. Alec. Bronn. Marius. The blood.

So. Much. Blood.

I dip my head, needing to remain vigilant and remove the past. But the more Marian depicts what happened, the more I shudder and clench my fists.

I failed her then, in Torgem, and I’m failing her now, unable to relay this information to Jean and Pierre.

“I was bitten when our carriage was attacked, and Vi needed to act quickly. We were in a bind, so we sought shelter, and I received aid,” Marian explains, her stature lax and calm.

Pierre’s glare melts into the side of my face, his voice grave and lethal. “Where did you go?”

I internally plead with Marian not to reveal anything more.

It’s my turn to take over this conversation. I twist to Pierre. “I-I took Marian to the only place I could think of. Especially when I had an impending shift.”

“Where. Did. You. Go?” Pierre demands, more persistent as I delay the truth.

But I am building up to it. Clearly, he doesn’t understand. But when Jean’s eyes find mine, I know he sees it for what it is.

“I had to shift”—I start again, bringing my hands forward and wringing them—“and Marian was looking out for me and didn’t want you all to worry about why we…”

Marian clears her throat. “Why we needed to—”

“I want to hear it from our next monarch,” Pierre seethes.

My sister flinches at the insult Pierre directed toward me.

Our next monarch .

A phrase meant to produce a sense of duty and obligation, but in this context, it’s a reminder of my own failures.

I bite the inside of my cheek. The reprimand these two men who I consider family will dole out creeps upon me, waiting to pounce.

When I meet Jean and Pierre’s gazes, I am thrown off by the concern etched in their features. They seek comfort in one another, and it’s then I reveal our truth.

“We went to Torgem.”

Pierre’s hardened expression deepens with disappointment through a long inhale.

“Why?” Jean asks calmly, despite matching his husband’s discontent.

Pierre’s anger is silent and calculating, a predator on the prowl, waiting for me to show weakness before he lunges and unleashes insult after insult.

I lace my trembling fingers together, tentatively sharing more.

“Because the king was the only person close by who could help Marian.”

Pierre slams his fist on the desk, pure rage coming off him in waves. “They are enemies to this court, and your father specifically forbade us from communicating with them!”

“We had no other option!” I yell, hovering over the table.

Pierre meets me in the middle, his grimace hardening. “You should have come home!”

“You weren’t there, Pierre! You didn’t see what happened!” I shake my head, frustration and defeat building despite rage coiling in my chest.

“Vi.”

A soft touch from Marian does nothing to comfort me as Pierre’s looming disappointment seeps into me.

I recoil, my voice raising. “We watched our guards get mauled alive by wolves while I was fighting against another shift. And without any way of helping her, Torgem and King Beauvais were her only chance of survival.”

“You should not have gone into their territory with the hostility between our kingdoms,” Pierre scolds, his stubbornness driving me to a breaking point.

“She was dying ! She would have died in my arms!” I scream, my chest rising and falling and emotions thickening in my throat. “And even if we were given a miracle to make it home, I wouldn’t have been able to treat her. I had to shift, and no one here would have been able to help her!”

Pierre snaps, “Yes, we could have!”

I snarl, catching him off guard and sending him back, my hands digging into the grooves of the table. “No, you couldn’t! None of you can!”

Fury fumes from my voice, my muscles—my entire being as Pierre studies me cautiously.

Good .

Jean’s soft voice speaks into the void. “What do you mean ‘none of you can’?”

“I’m infected,” Marian states calmly, and the brutal blow of her admission makes my insides churn.

Jean gasps, clutching his chest. “H-How do you know?”

“Because Beau was the one who told us,” I answer.

Pierre scoffs. “And you believed him?”

I bare my teeth, my wrath uncontainable and demanding I protect Beau. “ Yes . You know he is more knowledgeable about medicine than I am.”

Beau might be gifted with healing abilities from Yeva, but my family knew he had a vast array of insight on treating others. It was one of the many topics we delved deeply into whenever our kingdoms would visit.

He was born to inherit Yeva’s power. It’s his true calling.

I wish I could have earned that same chance. But instead, I’m forced to be a beast.