The Academy (Perrault Chronicles Book 2)

by Cordelia Castel

  She picked up the second scroll and opened it. Hot, noisy breaths escaped her nostrils and her fingers stiffened around the parchment. She ground her teeth and reread the offensive sentence. How she wanted to smash her bowl of porridge over Madam Florian’s head.

  “What is it?” Dora asked, squinting at the words.

  Rilla looked up from the letter and drew in slow, steady breaths. She even managed a fake smile. “There's going to be a meeting tonight after classes in the Chancellor's office.” She spoke evenly, so as not to show Madam Florian her anger. “About what happened with the dragon. Representatives from Hibern and Vern have been invited… as has the Ambassador of Steppe.”

  “Your betrothed?” Greta raised her eyebrows.

  “I can't believe she invited him.” Rilla's gaze flickered to the head table where Madam Florian sat, staring at her like a Vengeance hawk. She wondered if Lord Bluebeard's inclusion in the proceedings was a ploy to fluster her.

  A clatter of cutlery hitting the floor broke Rilla out of her thoughts and she turned to see the Princesses arguing with a furious Jacques. Although the trio exchanged harsh whispers, everyone, including Rilla, strained to listen. After slamming his hand on the table, Jacques stood and stormed out of the dining hall.

  “What in the known world was that about?” Dora wondered aloud.

  Rilla also couldn’t help but wonder.

  Later that evening, Rilla found herself outside the Chancellor's office. She inhaled long and deep, pulling back her shoulders to calm her fluttering stomach. Her mind went back to something she'd overheard Mother telling the twins. Poise, posture and presence makes for powerful persuasion.

  She knocked on the door, and a tired voice told her to enter.

  The Chancellor sat behind his desk, wringing his hands, his forehead creased with stress. Madam Florian sat next to him, her expression blank, but her chest rose and fell as fast as a sparrow's. Before them sat two men. Rilla assumed they were officials from Hibern and Vern.

  Looming above everyone was Lord Bluebeard, his face a crimson mask of outrage. At the sight of Rilla, his shoulders relaxed, but he didn't pause a breath in his rant. “And I want a full accounting for this catalogue of incompetence—”

  “Cadet Perrault,” said Professor Engel. “Please, have a seat. We will wait for Cadets Hibern and Vern before starting.”

  Lord Bluebeard pulled a seat, slammed it on the wood floor and gestured for her to sit. His raised brow seemed to say, 'I told you so.'

  After Rilla sat, he turned to the Chancellor.

  “Where are the culprits?” he roared. “Is this what you call discipline? No wonder your cadets attempt murder every day.”

  Madam Florian huffed. “I beg your pardon.”

  Professor Engel held up a hand.

  Lord Bluebeard paced the room, muttering to himself. Everyone else, including Rilla, sat stiff as chess pieces, waiting for the princesses.

  Gwynter entered the room, her eyes fixed at a spot above Madam Florian's head. Freida stood at the door, head bowed.

  “I am here,” said Gwynter in a voice that sounded rehearsed, “to confirm that I witnessed two attacks on Cadet Perrault.”

  Rilla furrowed her brow. She had expected Freida and Gwynter to deny everything and accuse Rilla of spilling the Azure salt on herself and stealing the poisoned comb. Since the Princesses had arrived together, and Freida wasn’t interrupting with a denial, there had to be something she was missing.

  “Which attacks?” Lord Bluebeard barked.

  Gwynter flinched. “I saw her splashed in Alchemical Defense and I was there during the attempt to poison her with the comb.”

  “Don't mince words. You mean you were there to murder her,” Lord Bluebeard said.

  Gwynter turned her head, casting her gaze to a spot on the floor by her left foot. “I know nothing about murder… or the dragon.”

  One of the officials stood. “It’s clear that the Princess of Hibern is innocent in these matters.”

  “Yes, thank you Lord Protector,” Gwynter snapped. “Cadet Vern perpetrated both attacks, but she had nothing to do with that dragon.”

  Rilla nodded. “I understand, now. You're admitting to two offenses I know you carried out, so you can look honest when you deny feeding me to a dragon.”

  The Princesses blanched and shook their heads, still not making eye contact.

  “Admit it, you strumpets!” Lord Bluebeard waved his huge fists like clubs.

  Gwynter skittered to the door and cowered next to Freida.

  On the inside, Rilla snorted. These were the two who had once defended poor, handsome Lord Bluebeard. She wondered whether they thought so highly of him now.

  The Chancellor stood, waving his arms up and down like someone putting out a fire with his hands. “Everyone, please stay calm.” He directed his gaze to Princess Freida. “Is Cadet Hibern telling the truth about the alchemical attack and the poisoning?”

  Freida nodded with her eyes closed. The representative from Vern coughed into his handkerchief.

  “And you know nothing about the dragon?” asked Professor Engel.

  She shook her head.

  Rilla narrowed her eyes. “You’ve shown nothing but disdain for me since the moment we met. You’re lying.”

  Madam Florian scoffed. “Why would anyone take such an intense dislike to a stranger?”

  “I don’t know, why don’t you enlighten us?” Rilla shot back. “Did you not tell me at that ball I should watch myself? That servants who rise above their station are to be buried?”

  Everyone stilled. Lord Bluebeard's eyes blazed like cerulean flames. He stalked, slow as a midnight tiger, pressed his great palms on the desk and leaned over Madam Florian.

  Rilla's heart sped up.

  “Yes.” He elongated the word, so it was more a deep rumble than speech. “Enlighten us. What did you mean when you said that to my betrothed?”

  Face the pallor of curdled milk, Madam Florian shot a pleading look to Rilla. Her thin lips trembled.

  Rilla met the Vice Chancellor's eyes, not feeling an ounce of sympathy. She’d saved the woman's life once and endured her scorn and ingratitude ever since. There was no way she would make the mistake a second time.

  Professor Engel opened and closed his mouth, eyes bulging at Lord Bluebeard. After a few seconds of silence, he said, “What would bring you satisfaction, My Lord?”

  Lord Bluebeard pointed at the Princesses, “I want these tarts executed or exiled to Steppe. When they attacked what is mine, they put the United Kingdoms at risk of war with my country.”

  Rilla pressed her lips together, trying not to smile at the preposterous suggestion. It was unlikely anyone would take it seriously, but she appreciated the sentiment. No one else, apart from Armin, had ever defended her with such fervor. She had to come up with an idea before the discussion moved on to another topic. It had to be something just as demanding but reasonable compared to Lord Bluebeard’s opening gambit.

  Professor Engel's mouth dropped open. “I’m a mere Chancellor, My Lord. I have no power to exile, or anything else. The most I can do is expel them.”

  Rilla held up her hand. “A boon from each of them will settle matters.”

  “Absolutely not.” The representative from Vern gripped the arms of his chair. “Boons give too much power over the recipient. What if this girl asked Princess Gwynter to jump into the Frozen Sea? Or Princess Freida to drink from the Well of Despair?”

  Rilla lifted her head, giving the man a cold stare. “I would never ask something so terrible of either of them. Unlike these princesses, I wasn't brought up to be petty and vicious.”

  Lord Bluebeard turned away from Madam Florian, who sagged in her seat. He advanced on Freida. “A boon is the least you wretched girls owe my betrothed. You do not deserve her mercy.”

  “Take heed, Cadets,” the Chancellor said. “What you are about to enter into is irrevocably binding. One of our students made a boon with an imp and now owes her firstbor
n to the creature.”

  The princesses exchanged frightened looks. Gwynter bit her bottom lip and tears brimmed in her eyes. Freida scratched her temple, a deep frown marring her pretty features.

  A pang of guilt, thick as a spinning needle, lanced through Rilla's belly, but she ignored the feeling. Getting these boons would protect her from these bullies as it seemed that not even Armin’s warning to Freida had restricted her malice. And although Lord Bluebeard was ready to protect her, she didn't trust his motives.

  Gwynter licked her lips and straightened her posture. “I, Princess Gwynter of Hibern, grant Cendrilla Perrault of Serotin a boon of her choosing.”

  Rilla felt a string wrap around her left hand. She glanced down but saw nothing. When Freida repeated the words, another invisible string bound itself to Rilla's right hand. The tense feeling she'd held inside her since coming to the Academy loosened. She relaxed into her seat.

  “Furthermore,” said Madam Florian. “The two of you will write a letter of apology to Cadet Perrault for your actions. That should give the matter a final settlement.”

  Lord Bluebeard sneered. “And I will expect a letter from you, explaining what you meant when you threatened my betrothed. By tomorrow, or I will confront your Lord Husband.”

  The Vice Chancellor blanched but nodded.

  Professor Engel's face brightened. “That concludes our meeting.” He stood, holding his arm out to the door. “I bid you goodnight, Lord Bluebeard, Cadet Perrault, Lord Protector and Lord Treasurer. Madam Florian, would you remain to discuss a few administrative matters before retiring?”

  The princesses scampered out of the room, followed by their representatives.

  Lord Bluebeard held out the crook of his elbow. “Walk me out.”

  It wasn't like Rilla could refuse him after everything he'd done to help her. Without his blustering intimidation, the princesses might never have committed to the boons. They walked through the hallway, attracting interested looks from the clerks, and down the stone staircase.

  When they exited the double doors, it was dark outside. Grey clouds hung overhead, obscuring the moon and stars. There was no breeze, although a faint scent of pine hung in the air. A carriage with the Bluebeard crest arrived, and a servant opened the door. Lord Bluebeard stepped inside and sat. Rilla was about to turn when he held onto her wrist.

  “This place is a danger to you,” he whispered. “Leave with me tonight. There is a vessel ready to take us where you will be safe.”

  Rilla sighed. Knowing the answer, she asked anyway. “I suppose I will have to marry you first.” His eyes lit up, and she snatched away her arm. “Why are you so determined to marry me? It’s not about the Perrault fortune, is it?”

  Lord Bluebeard’s mouth fell open, but he kept silent.

  “Well?” she snapped. “If you want me to come away with you, I need an answer.”

  He glanced off to the side. “It was never about your money.”

  Rilla’s heart jumped at the prospect of getting to the truth. “What do you want from me?”

  “I will tell you, but only when you’re safely on the ship. It is too dangerous for me to say, especially in this place.”

  A hot flush of anger suffused her cheeks. “It’s because of you I’m in this mess. If you hadn’t set your eyes on me to be your bride, I would still be home, miserable, but safe. I can't count how many times I've come close to death since you came into my life, and I will never thank you for it!”

  Before he could reply, she dashed away, winding through the corridors to get as far away from him as possible. She rounded a corner and crashed into Jacques.

  “Sorry,” she muttered, not wanting to deal with him on top of everything else.

  “Perrault, wait.” He grabbed her arm. “I need to speak to you.”

  “What do you want?” Rilla's voice was shrill, but she didn't care.

  “I’m sorry, and I didn’t know Freida and Gwynter would take things so far. They were denying that they’d had anything to do with luring you to the dragon. That’s what I was fighting with them about this morning.”

  “I see,” Rilla murmured. She put her hands on her hips and studied his face. Something about him still riled her.

  Jacques rubbed the bridge of his nose, peering down at his shuffling feet. “Sorry I ever associated with them.” He coughed. “I heard you have a full dance card and need lessons in waltzing. I happen to be fantastic at dancing.”

  Rilla rolled her eyes and turned away.

  “I am,” he exclaimed. “I can teach you a few popular dances for the ball. Although I’m not as good a teacher as Madam Whuppie, I’ll do a better job than Madam Florian.”

  She smiled at that despite herself, but still felt wary.

  “I’ll think about it,” she said, continuing down the hallway.

  “Good… well, take care of yourself.”

  Rilla nodded and headed to the library.

  Dora sat at Rilla's favorite spot, ready for their tutoring session. She looked up and grinned with those blackened teeth. Rilla sat next to her friend and opened a textbook.

  “I was thinking you weren’t coming.” Dora elbowed Rilla in the ribs. “What took you so long?”

  Rilla recounted much of what had happened during the meeting, and Dora sneered. “I knew those snobs were no good. It took Jacques long enough to figure it out. So, when are you going to take him up on his offer?”

  “I’m not sure if I will at all,” Rilla said, confused at Dora’s endorsement. “He’s a liar and a braggart and I don’t like him, no matter how many times he apologizes.”

  “Look,” Dora said. “Jacques is a tosser, but if he’s a good dancer and he’s offering you a chance to learn, I’d take it.”

  Rilla considered this for a long while, through their lesson and all the way to her bed. She decided to follow Dora’s advice and dreamed of dancing with Prince Armin at the ball. Her dance partner turned into Jack, sweeping her across the wooden floor of his uncle’s tavern as if she were the Queen of Serotin.

  Double Combat

  “How did the meeting with the representatives go?” Millissa asked the next morning as Rilla dressed for class and gathered her things.

  They both glanced at the Princesses’ empty beds and exchanged a look.

  “Thanks for the advice about not resorting to violence. Freida admitted to splashing me in Alchemical Defense and setting up the poisoning.” She shrugged. “But they both denied the dragon. And Lord Bluebeard--”

  “Your betrothed was there?” Millissa dropped her leather boot.

  Rilla flushed, still irritated at how Lord Bluebeard had made his help conditional on getting married. “He wanted them executed.”

  “No!”

  “But I got a boon instead. One from each.”

  “Oh, Rilla, that’s excellent.” Millissa fastened her boots, and they both stood to leave their dormitory. “I can’t believe Lord Bluebeard would suggest something so bold.”

  Rilla ground her teeth as they traversed the corridors and descended the stairs. Her feet made clomping sounds on the stone steps. “Oh, he did more than that. After the meeting, he tried to convince me to elope yet again. That man's relentless.”

  Millissa didn't comment, and they walked through the hallway in silence. Rilla's heart twisted, realizing that at least she still had her freedom. Poor Millissa couldn't get out of her marriage to the brutal Tinder King. While they were kindred spirits who could commiserate about the men in their lives, Millissa’s misfortune trumped her own by leagues.

  “In any case, he’s gone again for now. Are you nervous about the assessments?”

  “Not particularly. How about you?”

  Rilla’s stomach clenched, remembering how close she’d come to losing all her assignments. “I hope I passed.”

  “They're posting the results in the common room after lunch today. I’m sure it will be a madhouse.”

  When they reached the dining hall, Rilla saw Dora and her other f
riends at their usual table. They all shot her disappointed looks. The girls probably thought the Queen of Autumn was like the other princesses. “Come and sit with us.”

  Millissa stopped walking. “Are you sure?”

  “You were born a commoner like us. It’ll be fine.”

  The girls stopped chatting when Rilla brought Millissa to their table, but they all bade her a polite good morning.

  Millissa gave them a shy smile and took a seat next to Scarlet.

  “So,” Dora said, “I was telling the others about what you told me last night.”

  Rilla smiled. “Funny, that’s what we were talking about. I forgot to mention to you that I got a boon out Vern and Hibern.”

  “No!” Dora gasped, clapping her hand over her mouth.

  Millissa and Scarlet exchanged smiles.

  Greta frowned. “What’s a boon?”

  “It’s an unspecified promise to do a favor in the future,” Millissa said. “Boons are magically binding.”

  “How's that work?” asked Greta.

  “Even though it's banned in these lands, magic still exists. It’s in the air, always listening.”

  “So… what does it do, exactly?” Greta leaned forward.

  Rilla stopped eating. She already knew the boons were binding, but the details of how they worked were important to know.

  “The magic protects the boon holder from betrayal,” said Millissa. “Whoever grants the boon can't later harm, kill, or arrange the death of the boon holder. Even if someone else tries to free you from the obligation, it can backfire on both the third party and the giver. Boons hold terrible power.”

  “I didn’t even know that last bit,” Dora said, “That’s incredible.”

  “How do you even know that?” Scarlet asked.

  Millissa blushed and looked down at her lap, “An imp tricked me into granting an unspecified boon when I was in a bind. My husband hired several advisors from around the known world to break the boon on my behalf, but it didn’t work.”

  The table descended into an awkward silence. Dora glanced at Scarlet and Greta, looking like she wanted to say something. It seemed she gave up, because she picked up her spoon and ate her porridge.