Page 39 of Beast and Remedy (The Last of the Heirs #2)

The Esprit

I cling to my body as tremors control me, and I breathe steadily, hoping to calm the rushing power coursing through my veins, my muscles—even my very own breath. The terrorizing transitions are getting worse, like my beast form wants to stay longer than my magic allows.

And it only adds to the torture of changing back to myself.

The unrest, the unbalance, and the unease magnified as I patrolled through the woods. The animal in me thrashed and bucked, seemingly lost in how to aid that which cannot be seen.

I couldn’t pick up even the faintest trace of any wolves.

And if I couldn’t track anything, how was I supposed to help the forest and my people?

Power slowly ebbs from my toes, my fingers, my ankles, my wrists, traveling up my legs and my arms. It pulls and gathers into my chest, humming in small satisfaction at once more completing a shift.

But as I lie there, becoming more me than beast, the magic’s unease still pulses within.

I rub my heart, a false balm of reassurance despite the anxiety growing in my mind. I don’t want to fail. I need help.

“ Help is what you will receive ,” a light bouncing voice sings from behind.

I gasp, rolling over to the esprit dancing above the ground. “You can help me?”

It twinkles.

I blink as it hovers higher above the dirt, and I check the tree hollow where my clothing is. Glancing back, I can’t help the flood of questions leaving my mouth. “How are you here? Why can I see you? How can I see you? No, wait. Why are you appearing now?”

But my answers do not come from the esprit. Instead, it drifts toward my spare clothes as if it wants me to dress. It twirls in a circle, waiting.

Fearful if I break my stare it will vanish, I reach for the clothing and get ready, not once losing sight of the esprit.

My mind runs through varying possibilities to ease my questions since the esprit seems to dictate the conversation.

After dressing, the esprit rises to my eye level. “ My time is sparse .” It pulls away, lifting toward the sky. “ Dawn and dusk .” It races toward me, stealing my breath.

It runs in circles, drifting from my head to my toes as it chants, “ Help, we can .” It spins as its voice hums in my ear. “ Plants you need from each region, only grown in its land and plentiful .”

I startle. “Wait, what kind of plant?”

“ From each kingdom and plentiful ,” the esprit repeats. “ In order to help them all .” It brushes up against my skin, and heat emanates, almost searing off the hair on my arm. “ But you must venture far .”

“Wait? I must go somewhere?”

It buzzes near my ear again, and I shake my head, stifling the reaction of swatting it away like a bee drifting too close.

“Go where?” I ask, not wanting to leave Belmur when we just got back.

But if it means saving my sister, I will make it work.

The esprit faces me fully. It does a full flip, and I instinctively reach toward it, wanting it—needing it—to come back.

Miraculously, it does, but it motions up toward the light coming up from the East. It seems like the glow surrounding it dims with each passing moment.

Worry plucks at my heart, and I fear my time has run out.

The esprit’s quiet voice whispers, “ To the shadows of the Northeast Kingdom .”

Confusion stirs in my mind, uncertain. “You mean Northtry?”

It ripples, drifting back a pace, and I follow it.

“Is that a yes?”

It ripples again, the esprit dimming from a floating ember to a faint shimmer as it withdraws further.

“Don’t go! I still need help! I still need answers!” I chase after it as it pulls away from the rising sun. “Tell me more! I have so many questions! I need more answers! Please!” I reach for it, not caring if I catch it and burn myself.

This esprit gives me hope of redemption. And somehow, my mind cannot comprehend whether what I am seeing is a hallucination.

The glimmer surrounding the esprit dwindles more as it bounces.

I step in a thick pile of mud and sink a fraction, getting stuck. I look down, fighting to break free. Exhaustion tugs at my limbs as I peel one foot and then the other, looking to where I last saw the esprit. No longer visible.

Echoes in the breeze blow past me.

“Shift again.”

“Journey forth.”

“And answers will come.”

The words leave me alone once more, stranded in the woods, with my feet caked in mud. “Well, shit.”

How in the Oblivion am I going to explain this?

I run a hand down my face. Weariness and hunger tug at me as I gather my thoughts, needing to have my head on straight before venturing back to recollect everything a possible hallucination told me.

Was I hallucinating?

Stress and exhaustion can do that to a person, Vi.

No, I don’t think it was. Everything the esprit said seems true. Seems hopeful. And hope is something I’m desperate for. Besides a chance to read a good book.

My stroll back is quick, the worry over predators in the woods increasing my pace. I don’t even bother taming my wavy tresses or wiping the mud off my feet as I pass the threshold of the dining hall, stopping everyone mid-conversation.

“Vi,” Marian breathes with a fork of eggs halfway to her mouth.

I cannot imagine what my appearance is like, but given everyone’s widened eyes and surprised expressions, I must look awful.

Pierre arches a brow, but Jean addresses me normally. “Are you hungry?”

I shrug, not bothering to sit close to anyone. Instead, I pull out the closest chair and slink into it, wanting a bed more than a hard seat.

Deities, I will have to set out tomorrow if the esprit is right.

A staff member finishes filling Christine’s glass as Jean asks them to bring me a plate. When the woman leaves, Beau’s voice pulls my gaze up from the table.

“Are you alright?”

My heart wrenches from the worry in his eyes and the assurance he seeks to give. I hide the blush forming along my cheeks, unwilling to draw any attention to my reaction.

“Did you shift again?” Leo asks as he cuts a slice of meat.

Marcel elbows his side, and Leo glares.

“What? We all already know what she is.”

His statement feels like a slap in the face. I know it shouldn’t.

But it does, and I can’t help my rising anger. “Just like we all know what you are?”

He squints. “And what is that?”

“A dick.”

Christine snorts, her fork clanking from dropping it as Jules covers her mouth.

Jean and Pierre cough into their drinks, and Marcel and Beau shake their head at Leo’s stunned features.

And he did. He most definitely did, and I don’t regret letting my manners slip, taking it as a blessing after the night I just had.

Leo’s gaze returns to mine, flickering between annoyed and impressed.

I simply smirk and shrug, paying him no heed as the staff returns and offers me a plate of food. I extend my gratitude and begin eating, calming before I say any more.

One thing at a time. And more time to gather my bearings before I drop the news of my departure.

At least I will be welcomed by Prince Stefan when I arrive. He seemed keen on spending time with me and my sister, and I pray to the Makers that sending a raven of my arrival will grant me passage into his home. Cause for celebration or not, there is something I need from his lands.

I just have to figure it out between now and when I arrive.

Finishing my food, I take a sip of my water, aware of everyone monitoring me. They all stayed here like they know I have something to share.

My eyes meet Beau’s, and I hold his stare longer than is safe. But I can’t help it. Being in the same room eases my trepidation and anxiety.

And I need to no longer let that happen.

Not if, when this is all over, I will lose him again.

I push my plate back, shutting down the endless pit of a reminder and address everyone. “I have some news.”

Marian twists toward me, hope brimming in her eyes as I try to make sense and not appear out of my mind.

I clear my throat and lace my fingers together. “My magic wants me to go to Northtry.”

“Northtry?” Jean asks, surprise increasing his tone. “Why would it want you to go there?”

“They have what we need for a remedy,” I say, wanting to leave it at that. But knowing questions are about to erupt, I explain more. “We need plants from each kingdom. Ones that only grow in their land. And Northtry is where I was told to venture first.”

“Do you know what plant you need?” Jules asks. “About any of the plants you need?”

“No idea, but I’m sure more answers will come.”

“Your magic told you this?” Marian questions. “How?”

I bite my lip, not wanting to reveal information until I believed it fully. All I have going for me is hope and intangible evidence.

“We shouldn’t pry into how one’s abilities work, manifest, or call to them,” Beau says, catching everyone off guard. He stands and adjusts his tunic. “But we should listen when magic directs a ruler down a path. The Makers themselves are speaking directly to them.”

My stomach flutters and heart thumps in my chest, and I wish I could convey my gratitude.

But Marian slams her fist on the table and rises. “She is my sister. She is supposed to share that with me!”

“Do you have magic?” Beau glances at her, and she stiffens.

“What does that have to do with anything?” She crosses her arms, annoyance oozing.

What the Oblivion is happening? Why is she acting like this?

My sister remains uptight, even as Beau rounds the table and approaches her carefully, steering the conversation. “You know I haven’t given you a healing session yet this morning. Would you like one?”

She grumbles under her breath. “Not really. I feel fine.”

“May I?” Beau gestures, and she scoffs before leaning toward his outstretched palm.

He touches her forehead. Light glimmers behind his irises, and a glow lifts from the crown of his head, streaming in a flowing twirl over his biceps.

It traces down his body to his fingers on my sister. He closes his eyes, his concentration coursing more of his magic into her.

I marvel in awe, my mouth slackening at his gifts at work.

What I wouldn’t give to have my abilities look and be beautiful.