Page 53 of Beast and Remedy (The Last of the Heirs #2)

The Panic

W ashing the day away and dunking my waves in the scalding water was the perfect way to wind down for the evening.

It was glorious, but not as much as the roasted vegetables, warm bread, and stew we enjoyed after bathing.

The quiet upstairs was more peaceful than the loud clamoring and drunken cackles echoing up to our chambers.

Marian pinches her temples at every other jump scare we hear below, and I worry aggravation will revisit her soon.

When I snuck downstairs, I asked Jules to explain to the others as well as to ask Beau to come check on Marian. But he hasn’t stopped by yet, and the impatience of waiting mixed with the booming voices stirs me to seek him out.

“Where are you going?” Marian demands.

“I’m going to have Beau check on you.”

“I told you I was fine,” she hisses. “Why are you seeking out Beau?”

I twist and meet her vexation with my own. “Just because you feel fine doesn’t mean you are. You still have a fever.”

Marian opens her mouth—

Knock. Knock.

“Vi? Marian?” Beau calls from the hall.

Relief washes over me as my twin presses her lips together and throws herself on the bed. I ignore her, knowing she is worse off than she cares to admit, and open the door.

The air in the room snuffs out as Beau’s golden irises rake down my body. I cough to remind him we aren’t alone, and he jerks up before smiling politely.

“Jules said you wanted to see me?”

“I should have known you’d say something,” Marian scoffs, and I roll my eyes, glancing back as she crosses her arms. “Vi’s making a fuss about me sweating. I told her I was fine. It’s clearly the heat. But, apparently, she wants you to examine me.”

Sweet Makers, is this the illness? Or is it really her?

I sigh, offering Beau a sidelong look, pleading for assistance with my eyes.

His lips lift, a hint of reassurance passing between us before he invites himself in, casually approaching my sister.

“I know you are,” Beau replies. “But I didn’t do a full healing session this morning.”

I stiffen as I close the door and whirl on him. “And why didn’t you?”

Beau peers over his shoulder, completely at ease. “I wanted to see how she would do with two sessions a day compared to one.”

Marian’s confusion matches mine.

Could he tell this morning she would need another? Was I right in thinking her symptoms are getting worse? Will Marian be less agreeable with healing sessions?

If that were true, I shouldn’t say anything. But I need answers.

I rest my hands on my hips. “Care to explain?”

“I mean, one long healing session a day for an ongoing illness might not be the best treatment plan. Smaller spurts in the morning and evening might be better for this type of infection, given we don’t know enough about it.”

He turns, and a deep pit of uneasiness makes me nauseous at the tightness in his jaw, the empathy in his gaze.

Pain caves in my chest from his unspoken words. Words he could have said at any point during our travels.

She’s getting worse.

“Well, that makes sense,” Marian says, her demeanor lighter.

I cast aside the turmoil wilting my heart, silently agreeing as I approach the bed. Settling beside Marian, I take her hand and squeeze it twice.

She meets me with a grin and returns the gesture.

Beau opens his palms. “May I?”

Marian lets go of me and leans against the headboard, closing her eyes.

Light manifests from Beau, trickling down his form, from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet.

His magic glows underneath his skin, almost like it lives in his veins. Strings of incandescence stream forth from his fingertips and cascade over my sister.

Her brows pinch, as if she is in pain or resisting his power. The tension grows across her face, her jaw flexing, fists clenching, and her breathing increasing.

I glance at Beau.

Closed eyes, strained features, and his concentrated grimace do nothing to reassure me.

Licking my lips, I wait, not wanting to disrupt or distract him. But defeat buckles me down as I watch two people I love, feeling utterly and completely helpless.

My magic stirs, vibrating in my bones and seeking to protect me and those I care for.

But my powers are useless here.

Even my own intellect feels useless here.

I clutch my tunic, the sorrow in my heart rousing my magic. But I push it down, my powers restlessness a sign.

I’ll have to shift soon. Maybe then I can do something .

My unease dissipates as Marian and Beau relax, her eyes remaining closed by the time the glowing light of his gift fades.

I reach for her once more, noting the rise and fall of her chest, smoothed-out expression, and the slight snore escaping her. Unable to help myself, I touch her temple, my body slumping when I’m met with no fever.

I release a long, shaky breath as relief crashes against me.

A tentative knock comes from the door, and I jolt.

“It’s us,” Jules says softly.

I sag and push my waves from my face before glancing at Beau.

He angles his chin toward the door, a suggestion to let Marian sleep as we talk with our friends. With two squeezes to my twin, Beau and I quietly join the others in the hall.

Leo, Jules, Marcel, and Christine wear somber expressions, ones I wasn’t expecting, and they make it hard to mask my features.

“How are you both feeling? Is Marian alright?” Leo asks, stepping toward me with his hand outstretched.

The concern in his voice draws back the veil I draped over my emotions.

I am not used to him showing much compassion. I hug myself, trying to ignore the knot forming in my gut, fearful I will break down if I say anything.

“It seems Marian will need two healing sessions a day now.”

Beau’s voice pulls everyone’s attention, delivering news I think none of us were fully prepared for.

“Is there anything else we should do? Should we experiment with other treatments until we get back to Belmur?” Christine asks.

“We have the roseroot, and we’ll be near the Unterkirch borders soon for the lavender,” Jules says, her features souring like she remembered something before she adds, “But given what Marcel told me—”

I bristle and focus on Marcel. “What did you find out?”

Marcel has taken on sending and receiving letters by bird to Jean and Pierre, as well as his parents in Torgem, offering to keep track of any pressing news on my behalf to allow me and the others time to strategize and read over potential cures.

And pure hope stirs in my chest at prospective news.

He’s been keeping tabs on everything. Being the son of a spymaster has worked in our favor when we’ve strolled through towns.

Between eavesdropping and showing a friendly demeanor toward the citizens, bar owners, and innkeepers, he gets more information about the animal attacks, the spreading infection, and where it’s safe to venture.

But the grimace Marcel wears and the press of his lips is answer enough.

Resignation thickens his voice. “Nothing good, I’m afraid.”

I slump, my breath leaving me as the dam of questions breaks, and I’m on the verge of collapse.

Have healers not discovered anything since we’ve been gone?

Did something happen in Torgem?

Is Palaena still safe for my people? Was there news of Papa? Does he know we aren’t home? Are Jean and Pierre alright?

Christine nudges Marcel with a ghost of a smile. “Darling, you can’t say that and expect us to read your mind. Use your words.”

Marcel rubs his arm, exchanging a hint of annoyance with his partner, smirking when she winks.

He exhales. “From my father, King Jerrick, and Pierre’s reports, animal attacks have doubled in all their borders. They are controlling it as best they can. But…”

My heart stutters, and a booming roar echoes in my mind as Marcel continues, “Downstairs, I overheard a merchant tell the innkeeper about how Queen Verena is pushing more work on her healers because of the growing numbers of people dying so rapidly. She’s trying to keep everything contained, so much so she is refusing many traders travel along her trade routes. ”

He glances at Beau. “Which means going near Unterkirch isn’t safe.”

Silence stretches between us, and the worry plaguing everyone’s features suffocates me.

The hallway is too small—too narrow. The lanterns reflect more light than I’d care for. The wooden walls are too dark.

Too cold .

I peer down at my hands, still a slight pink from the warm bath I took earlier. But when I blink, the color changes, deepening to a thick red. Red like my hair. Red like—

Blood .

So. Much. Blood.

My breathing turns ragged, the quiet void of my friends at a loss and the turmoil of my heart sending panic up my throat. “But we—we have to get the lavender from Unterkirch.”

The tremor in my voice draws their eyes to me, and I clutch my chest, doing my best to keep calm.

Keep steady.

Keep breathing.

“We need plants from each kingdom,” I say, my gaze darting between each of my friends.

But Marcel, Jules, Leo, and Christine’s grave expressions match the chaotic despair encompassing me.

My pulse quickens, and panic seeps in, goose bumps covering my body. I lower my chin, concealing my trembling lip as lifeless faces flash in my mind.

Annie.

Riker.

Marius.

Alec.

Bronn.

So. Much. Death.

So. Much. Blood.

This unrest and foreboding will devour my mind, taint my soul, and ravish my heart.

It’ll keep going and going and going. Consuming me. Tormenting me. Until there is nothing left of me.

Nothing left to save.

Nothing left to fix.

And if I can’t stop this, who will?

I teeter on the edge of falling apart, wishing Marian was awake and here to help keep my churning thoughts at bay and save me from plummeting into an abyss.

A hand folds over mine, and I shudder, my knees wobbling.

Air . Blessed air returns to my lungs, and I inhale a sharp breath.

A prayer answered by the Makers themselves.

I don’t have to look, nor do I have to guess who it is.

Beau interlocks our fingers, grounding me, supporting me, as he squeezes my hand twice.

The scent of pine and lemon drift close, pulling me back from the chasm of desolation with each new steadying breath.

Beau’s arm brushes against mine as he keeps sending short pulses.

Our eyes lock, the melted honey of his irises soothing and calming me before he faces our friends. “If what you are saying is true, this might be our only chance to get the lavender.”

He doesn’t stop channeling his comfort, nor does he stop his unwavering support.

“We all knew the risks before we set out on this trip. We all agreed we were better together than alone. And hearing bad news is part of the journey—part of a journey we all are meant to navigate together because that is what we do for each other.”

My heart skips, my gratitude growing beyond what I ever could’ve imagined. If I attempted to speak, I would have rambled and overcomplicated it. It’s gratifying having someone simplify the muddled thoughts in your own brain.

And Beau has always been like that for me.

“We stay the course. We keep helping Vi to create a cure. We keep pushing for Marian and for Draymenk,” Beau finishes, and I curl into him.

Leo releases a long sigh. “Well, what are we waiting for?” He moves, dragging us all in for a group embrace.

Jules and Christine snicker, Marcel grunts, and each of us stumbles awkwardly. I huddle between Leo and Beau, his fingers still intertwined with mine and sending waves of love my way.

Leo rubs my back, catching me off guard. “If anyone can help your sister, I believe wholeheartedly it will be you.”

I rest my head against him, quietly voicing my gratitude for his reassuring words and comfort.

“I am glad to hear you finally talking sense,” Christine retorts.

Marcel and Beau snort, and his sister, Jules, and I burst into a fit of laughter.

Leo breaks away, flailing his hands and stomping off to his rooms, muttering, “I say one nice thing, and it still gets thrown in my face.”

“Sleep well, brother!” Christine hums before turning to Beau and me. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Vi!” Jules calls back as Christine drags her and Marcel to their chambers, warmth spreading across my chest from the love radiating from each of them.

Beau remains beside me as we wave them good night, still holding hands and watching their door clink shut.

When we are alone, Beau pounces, pinning me against the wall.