Page 90 of Beast and Remedy (The Last of the Heirs #2)

A Love Song

T he room remains silent, my heart hammering as Beau and I draw toward the center of the ballroom.

Every muscle is on alert, and I keep my head down, beads of sweat already accumulating along the nape of my neck. As much as I want to run and hide, Beau’s unwavering, strong presence calms me, steadies me. It crawls up from his touch, drifting up and across my body.

We pause and twist to each other, taking our positions to cue the musicians. Slowly, I peel my eyes off from the floor, finding Beau’s, and cannot stop the longing in my chest. Tears threaten to form, and I blink quickly.

Beau doesn’t miss a beat as he pulls me close when the ballad begins. “You are enchanting.” His sweet voice is tender and graceful, but it does nothing to help the pain clamping around my heart.

My lip quivers, and I want to look away, but I can’t. “B, I—”

He eases me into a dip, stealing my words as his dimples appear. “You are radiant.” His eyes never leave mine as he raises me, heat simmering in his stare. “You are bewitching.”

I swallow as he lifts me.

He holds me close as my feet leave the floor, spinning me once. Twice. Three times.

“You are everything to me, Rosebud,” he chokes out in a whisper as he lowers me.

Words are too complicated—too difficult to say.

I squeeze his hand twice, the only thing I’m capable of doing as my heart shatters from his anguish. I stay plastered to him, the smallest amount of acceptable contact I can show to the world that this man is mine and mine alone.

The music soars. Everything heightens as we build momentum.

We remain silent, simply existing in this moment and remaining close. The longer we hold one another, the more my heart and soul feel at peace with reuniting with my missing half.

Beau’s golden eyes never stray, and neither do mine.

A tear escapes, and I blink, trying to maintain my composure as we sway to the melody.

“Don’t cry, my love,” Beau whispers.

I sniff. “It’s hard not to.”

Beau’s features turn remorseful. “I didn’t mean to upset—”

“You didn’t upset me.”

A softness returns to him, his voice dipping with tenderness and love. “Then why do you cry, Rosebud?”

I blurt, “Because I thought you would never wish to speak to me again after last night. I don’t want to let go of you after the song ends. I want to declare to everyone and show the love we have with one kiss, maybe two as we dance. I want you to hold me close in public and around our peers.”

Beau spins me and draws me into his embrace.

“And I want to say I’m yours and only yours—and tell you every piece of you fits perfectly with me.” The crescendo drowns out my shaky breath. “But my obligations creep forward along the surface of my mind as a reminder that our love is hopeless.”

The best parts of me die with that acknowledgment as the music reaches its concluding notes, stirring up more pain and heartbreak.

I grip Beau tighter as our time together reaches its end.

I don’t want to let him go. I never wanted to.

Beau dips me for the final time, his lips hovering so close to mine as the last harmonized chord echoes and bounces off the walls of the ballroom.

I breathe, “It may be hopeless, but I’m yours and always will be.”

His eyes line with tears, matching my own, as guests explode in applause. Beau takes his time helping me upright and keeps his hands locked on my hips, sending pulses.

I know he doesn’t want to let me go. I know it with every fiber of my being.

But I painfully sever myself from him, holding his stare as I curtsy.

“I love you, B. Happy name day.”

I don’t wait for his acknowledgment, my head falling as I rise and take my leave.

The musicians resume playing, no one understanding how every step I take from the man I love wrecks me.

Ruins me.

I sacrificed it all to give our world a chance. A cure.

But now I’m the one left infected with a withering heart and decaying soul.

And the only remedy that could ever heal me will never be found in a book, or letters, or research, and ingredients.

I traded being cursed as a beast for being cursed for a life without love.

A life without Beau.

The realization settles deep in my bones, my eyes stinging the more that revelation carves itself into my chest, slicing me repeatedly. It poisons my heart, pollutes my soul, and hacks away at what little of me remains.

Fighting away the heartbreak as I sift through the crowd, I try to find my sister, Jules— someone to force my heart not to long for what it wants.

Relief floods over me when a sweet and youthful person squeaks. I swallow down my pain, clearing my vision as I peer up to Sybille’s loving and gleeful eyes.

“Vi!” She beams, and I can’t help my small smile.

“My dear friend.”

She hurries toward me with open her arms but second-guesses herself. She peers to her mother conversing with King Vinzent.

I regard the two monarchs in curiosity.

“They’re good friends,” Sybille comments.

“Like you and me?”

“We’ll be better friends than them, especially given all we’ve done for each other!”

I chuckle. “You’ve been more of a help to me than I you. Your foresight clued us in on the cure, for which I’m eternally grateful to you.”

Sybille gapes. “Y-You did?”

“Yes! Don’t you remember?” I ask. “You told me about using the healer’s blood.”

“Both bloods?” she clarifies, and my heart sinks.

Both? What does that even mean?

What if… Marian .

Shit, did the tonic only work temporarily? Is it going to unravel her slowly like last time or drain her from the inside out before I even have a chance to fix it?

You should have known you’d fail, Vi.

I push away my damning thoughts, needing answers, and squeeze Sybille’s hand. “What do you mean, both ?”

Her brown doe eyes, full of love and concern, sharpen at my hold on her.

I loosen my grip, trying to remain calm as a thrashing in my chest expands. The beast rages and gnaws through me, my magic scorching in my veins.

Something is wrong. Gravely wrong.

Quickly, I beg, “Whose blood do I need? Please, tell me. I need to help my sister and fix this before we disperse the cure.”

Her gaze roams the room, lingering on her mother and King Vinzent and Stefan. By the time she peers back, her features have softened.

I refuse to believe I can’t fix this. “ Please tell me. I’ll do anything.”

She shrinks inwardly, seeming at a loss for words. “It’s the blood of healers.”

“Alright,” I start, trying to gain control of my crumbling world. “I’ve already got Beau’s. Who’s the other? I’ll find them and fix it all.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t you see?”

“See what?”

I try to remember what she told me, but I can’t keep the panic from occupying my thoughts. But what else could there be?

She places her hand atop mine, squeezing it twice and pulling me from my reverie. “It’s you.”

“ What ?”

“The shadows warned me about the blood of healers, but it was because something blocked me from seeing everything clearly,” Sybille says, her past words echoing in my mind.

Be careful of the shadows.

My gaze darts to Stefan, my heart hammering in wonder.

Could he—could he be a seer, too? Or his father? Was he trying to help me or prepare me for the missing piece needed for the remedy this entire time?

Stefan’s eyes find mine. He smiles, dipping his chin and my stomach flips.

Sybille’s voice draws me back. “When we received word of the cure and your sister’s health, my vision cleared. The fog receded, and Alora showed me Beau’s and your blood being the missing piece for humans and animals.”

My mouth falls, my brain processing.

Beau’s gifted by Yeva to heal others, but me ?

I’ve always had a passion for it because of him. I even sought to treat the injured and sick creatures of the forest. Me? Seen by the Makers as a healer? Could that be what we needed for both species? A healer of both human and beast?

“Did you see if the cure would require two doses of medicine for each infected being?”

“Just one.”

I should be relieved, joyful, and happy she’s revealed so much. Yet my bones unsettle, tension rolls up my spine, and I slump.

“Thank you for telling me,” I say, despite the anxiety clamping down on my heart.

Looking to the dance floor, I seek out Beau to warn him. With no clear sign of him, I try for Jules or Marian, but neither is visible.

I face Sybille. “I need to go fix the tonics in the alchemy room. But I also need to find King Beauvais.”

She perks up. “I can find him for you.”

I squeeze her shoulders. “Would you tell him to not make the announcement yet and meet me in the alchemy room?”

“Of course.”

“You are the world’s greatest friend. I owe you.” I draw her in for a tight hug.

Protocols be damned. She’s been such a relevant piece in the cure, and she damn well deserves to know how amazing she is.

Glancing at Stefan, I have half the thought to hurry and thank him too.

You don’t have time for that.

I sigh and clear my thoughts, promising myself to express my gratitude once I fix everything.

“There is nothing to owe when friends are involved,” Sybille replies as we break apart, both of us smiling.

She gestures for me to go, and I don’t waste a moment, taking off down the side of the ballroom. I lift my skirt when I pass the threshold and large numbers of guests and sprint toward the alchemy room.