The Academy (Perrault Chronicles Book 2)

by Cordelia Castel

  At the double doors of the ballroom, Lord Bluebeard handed a powdered and wigged herald Rilla’s invitation.

  She bristled at the thought of the bluebirds picking through her possessions.

  “Lord Bluebeard, Ambassador of Steppe, and his betrothed, Cendrilla Perrault!” shouted the servant.

  Despite squirming at being so publicly linked to him, Rilla maintained her hold on his elbow to keep up appearances. It was going to be a long night. Several heads turned toward them, and many of the dancers stumbled over their own feet in their distraction. Rilla clenched her jaws and forced a smile, despising Lord Bluebeard even more for always forcing her to be the center of attention.

  An excited cry carried above the orchestral music. Rilla turned to find Millissa dashing towards her in a beautiful, pale green gown. She gushed over Rilla’s dress, and Lord Bluebeard awkwardly paid his respects to the Autumn Queen. He was clearly annoyed by her girlish behavior, but stayed polite due to her rank. Rilla smirked as Millissa dragged her away while he was powerless to stop it.

  Once they were out of earshot, Millissa asked, “How did you get out of jail?”

  “Don’t ask,” Rilla replied.

  Millissa clapped a gloved hand over her mouth. “You didn’t?”

  “No!” Rilla blurted, cheeks heated. “Nothing like that.”

  Millissa’s posture relaxed, and she smiled again. “I wrote three times to my husband for the funds to release you, but he never answered. I thought he would ignore me, but I had to try.”

  “I appreciate it,” Rilla replied. “There was only one person obligated to get me out, because he put me there in the first place.” She glared in Lord Bluebeard’s direction. Though he appeared deep in conversation with an important-looking gentleman, he glared back.

  “Why in the world is he so determined to marry me if he hates me so much?” she asked Millissa. “Look at him! We despise each other, yet he’s obsessed. I don’t understand.”

  Her friend shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  A boy a few years younger than Rilla approached, flushed and nervous. She smiled at him, but wondered who he was.

  “I’m Prince Henrich,” he said.

  Rilla recognized the name as first on her dance card and she curtseyed at the boy.

  “I’m a great admirer of yours, and I would be honored to have this dance.”

  He seemed to recognize Millissa and gave her a swift bow. However, before the young prince could take Rilla’s hand, Lord Bluebeard’s great paw grabbed her instead, and he dragged her to the dance floor.

  “I said no grabbing!” Rilla hissed as he swung her with surprising grace. It appeared his enormous frame did not prevent him from being a skilled dancer.

  “And I don’t want you gallivanting with other men,” he replied.

  “This is a ball,” she wanted to scream. “You do not own me, and you can’t override my dance card.”

  “My dear, I’ve owned you since I paid your miserable guardian all that gold.”

  They continued to bicker throughout the dance, pausing only for twirls and dips. Rilla was glad for the lessons from Jacques, but it irritated her that these new skills were being wasted on Lord Bluebeard.

  When the dance was over, a footman approached.

  “Lady Perrault,” said the servant. “The King and Queen wish to meet you. Please come with me at once.”

  Rilla’s heart thrummed, but she was glad for the excuse to leave Lord Bluebeard’s side. She followed the servant to the dais. The Royal couple beamed as she approached, and Rilla dipped into a deep curtsey. They overwhelmed Rilla with profuse expressions of gratitude for rescuing their beloved son so many weeks ago.

  “We’re sorry we didn’t thank you sooner,” the Queen said. Her hair was styled into tiny braids with beads of jet and sapphire to match her blue gown.

  “It was an honor, Your Majesty” Rilla replied.

  “I certainly enjoy all the articles written about you.” The King’s eyes danced, reminding Rilla of Armin. “You’ve made quite a name for yourself in these parts, and the gossip is most amusing.”

  He winked at her, and the Queen chortled. Rilla blushed, knowing he was referring to the rumor that she was trying to marry Prince Armin.

  The King leaned forward. “I see you’ve reconciled with your betrothed.”

  Rilla shook her head. “He only bailed me out of the jailhouse so he could attend the ball. We’re still estranged.”

  “An ingenious fellow.” The King nodded. “Banned from the castle, yet through you he weaseled his way back in. I can only admire his audacity.”

  “I hoped Armin would be the one to help you,” the Queen added. “But he’s so fixated on his new fiancée.” Her face darkened, and then she turned her sharp, onyx gaze on Rilla. “I always hoped my sons would marry for love, despite their stations.”

  Rilla sucked in a breath, but she kept her features neutral.

  The King reached for the Queen’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “We turned out fine, despite our arrangement,” he murmured. He glanced up at Rilla, who shifted on her feet. “It was wonderful to finally meet you. We can never thank you enough for rescuing our son.”

  Dismissed, Rilla made her way back to Lord Bluebeard in a daze. She couldn’t believe the Queen had been so candid with her on the subject of Armin and marriage. It made her think of something she’d heard about heroes being able to marry into royalty. It also made the preposterous gossip about her and the prince seem possible after all. From the corner of her eye, she saw Millissa approach.

  “Prince Armin and his betrothed, Princess Olga of Tundra!” announced the herald.

  Lord Bluebeard grabbed Rilla’s arm so hard, she gasped. He brought his lips to her ear. “Do not react.” His voice was an urgent hiss. “If you value your life, you wretched girl, do not utter a word.”

  Rilla frowned at the desperate tone. She turned toward the door and froze, her breath catching in her throat. A scream bubbled up within her chest, but she swallowed it, heeding Lord Bluebeard’s warning.

  Next to Prince Armin stood a troll in a shimmering, silver gown.

  Princess Olga

  Rilla felt like she’d been doused with ice water. Her hand twitched toward the hidden staff in her bodice, but Lord Bluebeard gripped her arm, hissing all the while not to react. All around her, the gatherers gasped and chattered over the newly engaged royal couple.

  Millissa nudged Rilla’s other arm. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl so beautiful.”

  Rilla’s gaze flicked from the troll to Armin. Her friend’s eyes were glazed, his smile love-sick.

  The musicians started a tune, which Rilla did not recognize.

  “Oh, the Tundra Tango,” said Millissa with a squeal. “How progressive!”

  Rilla could only focus on the troll, clomping on the dance floor in a silver dress that barely covered its ankles. The creature’s thick legs ended in feet so bulky, it could not wear shoes. With its huge slab of a hand resting on Armin’s palm, it resembled a crumbling statue, with a deluded prince making graceful, tentative steps around it.

  Every time Armin glided forward, it trudged back. Every time Armin put his arms around the creature’s torso and lifted, it stood still. At one point, he leaned to the side, placing all his weight on one bent knee. The troll let go and stared uselessly at the Prince. Rilla supposed that was some sort of fancy tango pose.

  “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

  Rilla glanced at Millissa’s worried face.

  She leant into Rilla’s ear. “Take it from me. Being a Queen is awful. If you hated the fame you have gotten from your fights, you’d despise being the center of attention as the wife of a King.”

  Nodding absently, Rilla watched Armin lean forward to dip the creature. It stepped back two paces, giving the Prince the required space. Then, to Rilla’s surprise, Armin spun away several times, cradling thin air. The troll hurried to keep up.

  “She’s so
elegant,” said Millissa. “Just look at that footwork.”

  Rilla grimaced.

  Millissa giggled. “Have you noticed all the scandalized faces? This dance is rather indecent, don’t you think? But I suppose that’s how they keep warm in Tundra.”

  Rilla took her eyes off the bizarre couple and focused on the other guests. From the looks of excited glee on the gentlemen’s faces, it was clear that only Rilla and Lord Bluebeard were the only ones who can see the creature for what it was. If she ran onto the dance floor, quarterstaff swinging, at best, she’d be dismissed as a jealous commoner who could not hold the interest of a Prince. And if she exposed the troll, everyone would ask why she could see it when they could not.

  Lord Bluebeard stepped in front, blocking Rilla’s view. “We are leaving.”

  “But—”

  “Now.”

  “But she’s only just got here, Lord Bluebeard,” said Millissa. “I’m sure they’ll play the Steppe Serenade in your honor, soon. That’s how it works at these events.”

  He gave her a stiff smile and bow. “My apologies, your Majesty. I have an early start tomorrow and I must see my betrothed safely to the Academy. Come, Cendrilla.”

  Rilla allowed Lord Bluebeard to pull her off the dance floor. She looked over her shoulder to see the Prince pressing his lips to the troll’s cheek. She scowled and turned her gaze to the King and Queen, who sat stiff as portraits, watching the proceedings. The King gave Rilla a discreet wave with a more genuine smile, and she waved back.

  The servants opened the double doors of the ballroom and bowed. Lord Bluebeard continued to pull Rilla through the corridors, his strides long and swift.

  She had to jog to catch up. “Stop. You’re hurting me.”

  He only loosened his grip.

  “My Lord, what—”

  “Quiet!” he hissed. “Not a word.”

  Shaking, Rilla nodded.

  They left the palace through the front doors, descended the marble steps and walked into the courtyard where a servant clad in Blue Velvet waited with the Bluebeard coach.

  It wasn’t until they were seated in the carriage and had left the palace grounds before Rilla dared to speak. “That was a troll.”

  Lord Bluebeard raised an eyebrow. “Aye.”

  “Is that all you can say?”

  He shrugged and relaxed into his seat.

  “Well, was that the real Princess Olga?”

  His lips quirked downward in an I-don’t-know gesture.

  “Or do you think it was a troll using magic to impersonate her?”

  Lord Bluebeard raised a massive shoulder.

  “Did you notice everyone thought she was a pretty girl? Why were we the only ones who could see the troll, and why didn’t you let me save Armin?”

  Lord Bluebeard scowled. “Does that man consume your every thought?”

  “What are you talking—”

  “You have no sense of self-preservation, fool. If you were to reveal the troll underneath that magic, the first question they would ask is how?”

  Rilla frowned. “I know that, but I still need to help him.”

  Lord Bluebeard sneered. “And how did you know he wasn’t enjoying the troll’s attentions? He seemed enamored enough.”

  Rilla flushed. “That must have been an infatuation spell.”

  His laugh was harsh. “Believe what you wish, girl. I know the look of a man in love.”

  Rilla bowed her head. If Lord Bluebeard wouldn’t help, she’d have to save Prince Armin herself. The Magical Flora and Fauna section of the library contained enough books to help her work out what exactly the troll had done to her friend.

  With a huge sigh, Lord Bluebeard said, “I don’t know if the troll was a Princess or not. Some rumors say the Snow Queen is a witch, others say she’s a troll herself. That may well be her troll daughter. I could tell you why we can see the troll while others cannot, but the answer is too dangerous to utter out loud.”

  Rilla opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Lord Bluebeard added, “Tell no one of what you saw tonight and you will not lose your head.”

  For the rest of the journey, Rilla thought of ways she could free the Prince from the troll’s influence. Lord Bluebeard glared at her all throughout, muttering to himself, but Rilla paid him no mind. Sooner than Rilla would have thought, they’d reached the courtyard of the Academy, and the coachman opened the door.

  “I will voyage to Steppe to report this development to my superiors. The birds will watch over you while I am gone. Do not approach that troll. I will have my birds attack you if you attempt it.”

  Huffing, Rilla turned to leave the coach, but Lord Bluebeard grabbed her wrist.

  “Cendrilla. I am awaiting your reply.”

  She snatched her arm away and stepped out. “Fine.”

  Rilla awoke early the next morning and went to the library to scour every book she could find on trolls. According to her research, they had no special powers except for their strength and resilience. It made her think back to Armin’s doubts about whether the creature Rilla had fought at the bridge had actually been a troll. They simply could not turn people into goats.

  Somehow, trolls were gaining the powers of enchantment, something that only fairies and witches were able to perform. Rilla closed her books and yawned. Sunlight streamed through the library windows, making the dust motes dance in the air. She rubbed her eyes and penned a letter.

  Dear Armin,

  Thank you for the wonderful ball. Please pass on my apologies to the gentlemen on my dance card. Lord Bluebeard wanted to leave early.

  I hope you and your betrothed are well.

  Regards,

  Rilla

  She went to the dining hall, handed the letter a clerk and sat at her usual table. In moments, the rest of her classmates arrived.

  “Did you really fight Lord Bluebeard in a tavern?” asked Esben. “That doesn’t seem like you, Perrault.”

  Rilla nodded and took a mouthful of porridge.

  “What was it like in jail?” asked Roland.

  “The people were nice,” Rilla replied. She turned to Dora. “Didn’t everyone get the gossip from you and Jacques?”

  Dora cackled. “Course they did. But there’s nothing like getting it from the source.”

  Rilla nodded and continued eating her breakfast. She hoped her letter would prompt Prince Armin into a correspondence about the troll. Over the next few days, she could coax him into revealing some of the creature’s secrets. It could be feeding him an Obsession Elixir, or making him wear a cursed amulet. Even the smallest clue could give her an idea into which direction to research.

  She was so engrossed in her thoughts, she didn’t notice Madam Florian until she clapped for attention. “Gather in the unarmed combat training room, the Chancellor has an important announcement about the final assessment.”

  The entire class followed the Vice Chancellor’s directions and found not only Professor Engel, but Corporal Hickathrift and Madam Whuppie.

  “Good morning, class,” said the Chancellor. “The combat challenge forms the final part of your assessment at the Academy. We will split you into groups of three, with the objective of finding and retrieving a crown from enemy forces.”

  Madam Whuppie stepped forward. “Each crown will be heavily guarded and hidden within the forest. You will need to rely on your colleagues to beat your foes, find their crown and return to the Academy.”

  Rilla swallowed. A difficult task, but doable with a good team. She could fight enemies. She had to succeed in this assessment or she would be expelled.

  “Madam Florian, please assign the teams.”

  Rilla glanced at Dora and Millissa, hoping to work with them. The other two smiled back.

  “Team one: Esben, Roland and Estiv.”

  Prince Behr walked around the group to stand with the other two young men. He shook their hands, and they chatted quietly.

  “Scarlet, Greta and Dora,” said Madam Florian.
<
br />   Dora shrugged at Rilla, but turned to exchange a grin with her friends.

  “Vern, Hibern and Autumn.”

  Millissa gave Rilla a sad smile and made her way toward Gwynter. Rilla assumed Freida was still confined to the infirmary after her breakdown.

  Madam Florian smirked, and Rilla’s stomach dropped. She looked at the remaining two cadets.

  “Dubois, Prevern and Perrault.”

  Jacques strutted over to Rilla, wearing a huge grin. “We are going to be the best team. I can feel it.”

  She smiled back, trying to remember whether she ever noticed his performance in any of the combat classes. Bianca dragged her feet from where she stood next to Gwynter and joined Jacques.

  The Chancellor raised his hands, and everyone stopped chattering. “Good luck, class. I look forward to seeing how you’ve developed in the combat field.”

  He strode to the door and opened it for Madam Florian. When they both left the room, Madam Whuppie blew her pipe. “Today, you will practice sparring two against one. Take it in turns to be the one fighting alone. Pick your weapons, people.”

  At the weapons table, Jacques chose a shield and short sword. He waggled his eyebrows. “Shall I go first?”

  Rilla shrugged and picked up a long sword. After all those dance lessons, she felt more confident on her feet. “Go ahead.”

  Bianca stood next to Rilla, trailing her foil on the wooden floor. They both positioned themselves opposite Jacques. As soon as Madam Whuppie blew her pipe, Rilla struck.

  Like Dora, Jacques moved with speed and grace, dodging and dancing out of the way of Rilla’s strikes. He seemed to be more flexible, being able to jerk his body into seemingly impossible positions. At times, it seemed like his limbs were yanked out of the way by strings. His eyes gleamed with excitement.

  Next to Rilla, Bianca waved her foil, missing Jacques by several feet.

  “Dubois,” yelled Madam Whuppie. “Don’t be afraid to hit a woman.”