Page 65 of Beast and Remedy (The Last of the Heirs #2)

Personable

B eau never once left my chambers, insistent on watching over me. He had Marian come here for her healing sessions and had the healers visit us today.

All so I can be comfortable for as long as possible before we leave tomorrow.

The searing pain in my head has reduced drastically over the last few days. My dizziness subsided, and I woke up hopeful this morning with the news of the healers telling us of their findings.

Luther, the head healer here in Unterkirch, is an old man with a crooked nose, hunched back, and he favors his right side. He leads the report, accompanied by a few students behind him.

But my heart beats erratically the more he reveals, and my stomach churns and coils, wanting to empty itself of my breakfast.

“Mutated?” I gape.

There wasn’t a way that could be possible. Could it?

Beau crosses his arms, his silence enough to worry me.

I apply pressure to my abdomen, settling the unease as I sit up, and try to process the grave news. “H-How did you discover this?”

“Our people were already reporting illnesses when your kingdom’s correspondence reached us,” Luther says.

“And shortly after, a group of soldiers found a pack of wolves right along the Belmur border when they were on patrol, and they acted, planting traps to bring them back for our observation. We didn’t know any of them were infected until a week into monitoring them in the dungeon.

That’s when we noted similarities and differences in some infected foxes, lynxes, and humans we were already observing. ”

Luther steps forward, his hands shaking as he offers a few books to Beau.

“Since then, we’ve recorded the timeline of infection, noting how it differs from animal to human and which symptoms are worse or vary.

Animals can pass it to anyone they come in contact with, and we are gathering conflicting information that humans might have this capability as well.

This was a huge indicator that there might be a different strain affecting the two species. ”

“Were you treating those infected? Or just observing them?” Beau asks.

The old man dips his chin with resignation.

“We did both. We studied those without treatment and with, administering medicine for symptoms as they came. And while it did extend their life, the symptoms still worsened as if the illness itself sought to combat what we gave.” He withdraws a handkerchief and dabs the sweat accumulating along his brow.

“And when an animal or human is near their time… They lose their minds.”

Bile runs up my throat, and I breathe through my nostrils to remove the images of death surfacing in my mind.

“How do you know? When they are at their end?” I ask, too impatient to read it in their books.

Luther swallows. “When it is time, they act in a stark contrast to themselves. Yes, their mouths might foam, and the fever will persist. But with the new strains, they hallucinate, growing confused to the point where many can’t discern friend from foe.

Behaviors grow more erratic, angrier, and more lethal.

Animals and humans turned on one another, leaving us to keep them separate to avoid them from killing each other. ”

Goose bumps prickle up my spine, spasms of pain flickering against my skull at the distinct memory of Marian knocking me off my horse.

No.

I rub my chest, trying to soothe the ache pressing against my ribs. But fear extends its claws, digging into my lungs, piercing my heart and evolving the ache into a bleeding, oozing wound.

I am running out of time to save her.

Luther’s wrinkles deepen with his low, shaky response.

“I know it is difficult to receive this information. But the knowledge you’ve shared about the ingredients needed for a cure”—his brown eyes fill with curiosity—“and the ratios for the lavender tea you’ve tried leave me hopeful we can further improve life expectancies for those infected and increase our chances of finding a remedy. ”

Beau sets the books from Luther on the bedside table. “Thank you for your time. We truly appreciate your assistance with everything and are grateful to leave here with your insight.”

The older man peers between the door and me. “I cannot begin to imagine what you must be going through.” Silently, he approaches and pats the bed. “But I believe with our research, our efforts, and Yeva’s gift bestowed to King Beau, we will turn the tide for everyone, including her.”

I bite my lip to mask the quiver I can’t control and incline my head in gratitude as he smiles before leaving me to dwell on his words of encouragement. My attention remains on the exit as I wring my hands through the sheets, needing to ground myself.

I am grateful for the knowledge, but it’s not the only reason we came here.

Fingers grip my chin, guiding me toward amused honey irises.

“I know what you’re doing,” Beau says.

I scowl, and my barely containable anger seeps out. “Oh? And what am I doing?”

“You’re overthinking.”

I roll my eyes, hating how obvious my tells are. Veering away from his touch, I hug myself and glance toward the window, despising how stuffy it feels.

I’m not doing enough, and the longer I’m here, the further I am from finding a cure.

“We need to confront the queen about her ability at dinner tonight,” I say.

Beau releases a long sigh. “It’s not going to be easy.”

I meet his gaze.

“Queen Verena is gracious, but she’s also protective and proud of her lands and her power. If we ask for the wrong thing, the wrong information, anything that could put her kingdom at risk, she won’t offer it and will turn us away. But I have a feeling the queen isn’t who we need to befriend.”

My mouth parts. “You think the princess—”

“Is a seer? I do.”

I slump, thinking over the brief conversations I’ve had with her along with her interactions with my friends and family when they’ve all checked in during my recovery.

“But she’s so young. How can we know if she’ll have the answers we need?”

“She might be in her youth, but so was I when my father passed.” He perches against the bed. “Maybe she’s further along in her magic than we know.”

I work my jaw, contemplating how to even approach this situation.

Beau’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Every kingdom has kept its monarch’s abilities a secret for as long as our histories tell us. I’m also positive every territory approaches keeping archives of a rulers’ gifts differently as well.

“But before the virus, ever since Queen Tove’s power erupted into a long winter, I grew more open about my own magic within my territory, started drafting my own records of what I learned so it might help my future heirs should they inherit Yeva’s abilities.

However, I don’t know if the others share the same sentiment.

Deities, I am close to Jerrick, and I don’t even know what his are or if Palaena has any documentation of their past ancestors’ gifts. ”

“Belmur doesn’t keep track of anything, either. Even Mama was reluctant to share how her magic worked with us because she believed we wouldn’t receive the same power as her.” I rub my temples, the pang of her absence drawing forth a dull ache. “How wrong she was on both counts.”

“I still can’t believe your mother and you inherited abilities from the same Maker.” Beau smooths out the wrinkles in the sheets, his fingers grazing along my leg and making my stomach flutter. “Plus, it’s strange twins wouldn’t share magic.”

The giddiness from his touch immediately sours from his words.

I wish I could detach myself from the questions I’ve wondered about for years and know will never be answered in my lifetime. “They probably got their rules mixed up with my mother and me because I have a twin.”

The corner of his lip lifts. “Well, Queen Verena is a private person. So, I can assume she’ll be guarding any information.” Beau scratches the back of his head, his expression shifting. “Unless we can get it out from another source.”

“You want me to befriend Princess Sybille?” I choke out, gesturing to myself. “You do know I am the most impersonal person ever.”

Beau laughs, his dimples on full display. And, damn, do I want to poke each one and pepper him with kisses.

“You are plenty personable,” he replies. “You convinced a boy to play with you and write to you for years .”

His golden eyes sparkle with sincerity, nostalgia stretching between us despite the tease in his tone.

“I was a kid then!” I throw my hands up. “It’s not like I can fall back on that over dinner!”

Beau fails to suppress his amusement, and I growl my irritation.

Why can’t he befriend the princess? Surely, it’s every girl’s dream to fawn over a handsome king like how I did at that age.

I grimace, envy prickling up my spine at the images my mind conjures.

No. Nope. Not going to linger on that thought.

A hand sneaks its way to mine, tugging me toward the man I can’t look at without my stomach flipping. His features soften with understanding, eyes blazing and enticing.

“I know who you are at your core, Rosebud, and if you let her see you like how you’ve let our friends and family see you, I know you two will be fast friends.

I can even keep her mother distracted with other conversation to give you two a chance to chat.

” He squeezes my hand twice, love and encouragement radiating from him.

“We need to succeed before leaving tomorrow.”

I press my lips together, dreading traveling in the summer heat. But the date jogs my memory.

“Your name day is coming up.”

He arches back, skeptical. “Yes. And?”

I tilt my head, a plan forming in my mind. “Maybe we could invite them to the celebrations in case we don’t get an answer tonight? Better yet, if we do get answers, we then have an opportunity to have the kingdoms gather and get a cure created to then disperse.”

“ We ?”

My heart thunders as heat explodes across my cheeks. I avert my gaze, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear and mumbling, “You know what I mean.”

Beau sweeps more of my waves behind my shoulder and kisses my collarbone. “I know what you mean. And I like your idea.”

His lips trail up my throat, leaving goose bumps across my skin. I grip the bedsheets, biting back a moan. But when our mouths meet, I cave and hum with pleasure.

Beau withdraws. “You’ll try talking to Princess Sybille tonight, and as a backup, I can personally invite Queen Verena and her daughter to Torgem in the morning before we depart.”

I pout teasingly. “Do you want me to ask her instead since you say I’m so personable ?”

“Well, it was your idea. And if you don’t succeed, I’ll have to throw a party.”

I snicker at his feigned annoyance. “Maybe you should throw a party. I think your name day should be celebrated.”

He scoots closer, his body pressing against mine as he smirks. “Says the woman who hates parties.”

I thread my fingers at the nape of his neck, laughing under my breath and kissing him before sighing contentedly. “I might hate them for myself, but I don’t hate them for the people I love.”

He brushes his nose along mine and guides me back against the pillow. A giggle escapes me when he jolts upright and hurries to lock the door.

And when he returns, nestling between my legs and descending, I savor it, reveling in Beau catering to my aching and never-ending need of him before we have to dress for dinner.