Page 34 of Beast and Remedy (The Last of the Heirs #2)
“Why would you believe them when they themselves could be the very people who started this all?” Pierre asks, his anger shifting into condescension, which does nothing to settle the burning vexation I can’t simmer down.
“Because it was our fault,” Marian answers, pulling Pierre’s resentment to her.
“What in the Oblivion did you two do?” he demands.
I really don’t want to further the hole we’ve dug for ourselves. But if we want any chance to let Beau in these castle walls to help us, I have to bite down my pride and deal with Pierre’s scrutiny.
Marian’s hand finds mine again, and she squeezes it twice.
It calms the aching rage spasming in my veins, and I heave an exhausted sigh and sit. I’m surprised Pierre does the same, he and Jean still waiting expectantly for answers.
Marian and I take turns explaining everything that has transpired, including bringing our friends here.
“With a direct line to Torgem, versus having to work through Queen Tove and King Jerrick to get their assistance—”
Pierre’s eyes bulge as Jean gapes. “You didn’t—
“We did,” Marian replies before nodding for me to continue.
“With the help from every kingdom, we can help our people faster. And King Beauvais is the best chance we have of saving Marian. Saving everyone. You need to trust in that, too,” I finish, pleading on the last part.
They watch us in silence, the anger in Pierre’s face slackened and Jean’s concern etched deep with worry.
“They killed Johanne,” Pierre says, voice cold.
Marian’s soft murmur fills the room. “You know we never gathered any real proof.”
Pierre’s gaze falls on my sister, and she continues.
“And the proof we tried to gather, Papa ignored it because he was too lost in his grief. You know this. You’ve seen it.
He’s too stubborn and prideful to admit it and see sense.
And I think we all know if he were to acknowledge it and find the answers, it would be closure for him. And clearly, he still isn’t ready.”
My twin’s eyes fill with fierceness before facing Jean and Pierre. “But we all have had our own closure. It’s why we have chosen to trust our friends. The bigger question is, will you? And if not, will you trust in us to make everything right?”
She gestures to herself and me, and my heart hammers as Jean and Pierre’s wary expressions do nothing to settle my nerves.
Pierre remains frigid and immovable. He blinks once, arching back, and the tension lessens. He looks to his husband, another person who has helped govern this land with my father for years.
My toes curl, anxiety fueling the rush I’m sure will come crashing down at any moment.
Jean touches Pierre’s side, and I understand his judgment, his opinions, and respect and duty he has for our home.
But I, too, will be in Papa’s position one day.
I offer him sympathy, hating myself for faltering, but hoping it will reach his tightly concealed emotions.
“I know you only see me as a girl, Pierre,” I whisper.
Rather, he remains focused on his husband as he thinks and waits.
“Oblivion, you probably see me as stupid, too.” I laugh.
A sigh of annoyance comes from Marian, and I imagine if I was looking at her, she’d be rolling her eyes.
I stretch across the table, reaching for Pierre’s forearm.
He stiffens, coldness visible as his eyes find mine before I speak.
“You have taught me what it takes to be a ruler. Papa taught me where to find joy in this role. Jean taught me the importance of balancing being merciful and strict. But you, Pierre, you also taught me to be rational, stubborn, and to trust my instincts.”
I squeeze his arm twice, telling him I love him. I don’t tell Pierre often because we are always at each other’s throats. He is always the thorn in my backside, pushing me to my limits and still helping me grow.
But he is my family and a huge part of my life.
And the flash behind the frozen tundra of his deep-set eyes leads me on. “I am doing what you have taught me, and I need you to trust me.”
He dips his chin when I finish, the vein down his neck bulging as his jaw works.
“I don’t like this plan,” he says, and it takes all my concentration not to allow the hope to die too quickly. “But I do trust you.”
He squeezes my hand twice, a silent exchange he rarely uses, and my emotions clog my throat as he opens his other palm toward my sister.
She hunches forward, grasping him, and I can tell by her own tear-filled gaze he offered her the same double squeeze.
“Go ahead and invite him in. We should all meet and discuss correspondence with the kingdoms as well as relay news,” Pierre says.
“You—you aren’t going to tell Papa, are you?” I ask.
Jean answers first. “No.”
But I keep my eyes on Pierre, needing his agreement. And he makes me wait in agony.
“If Bernie knew about Marian’s infection, I don’t know what he would do. But I also know if he knew of its true origins, there is no telling how fast information would spread, and we don’t want this getting out,” Pierre says.
I drop my head, relief coursing through me. “Thank you.”
“Don’t expect to be off the hook this easy, Vi,” Pierre scolds, drawing my gaze to his. “You started this, and you are going to fix it. And once you do, I expect you to tell your father and agree to move forward with finding a husband.”
I should have known he would strike a bargain.
My insides shrivel at telling Papa, but what’s worse is I don’t think my soul will survive if I choose to marry another.
I bite my lip, hesitating and wanting to refuse with every part of my being. If I don’t agree to this, Pierre will tell my father. And there is no telling what would happen then.
All my freedoms would be taken away. I’m sure of it.
I feel as if I am stabbing myself in the heart as I sigh. “I’ll do it.”
“Good.” Pierre stands, adjusting his vest. “Now, be sure to write to your father. He will want to know you both made it home safe.” He looks to his husband, a silent acknowledgment of love passing between the two.
“Better make it convincing enough so your father does not gallop on horseback straight here,” Jean comments as he stands and fetches parchment and quill.
And before he leaves with Pierre, he winks back at us, and Marian snickers.
Her hope should ease the heaviness in my chest, but the depths of her brown eyes peer into my soul, a reminder that her life is hanging by a thread. One I need to tend carefully if she is going to come out of this catastrophe alive.
And my heart clutches onto the reality that this time I’ve been granted to have with Beau, however awkward it may be, will surely be the last I will ever get with him.