The Academy (Perrault Chronicles Book 2)

by Cordelia Castel

  Jacques shook his head and continued ducking and dodging Rilla’s strikes.

  The pipe tooted again. “Change positions, class.”

  Rilla motioned for Bianca to take Jacques’ place. “Ready?”

  The Princess pressed her lips together, looking even more pale than usual, and nodded. The moment Rilla swung her sword, Bianca dropped her foil and cringed away. “I yield!”

  Rilla lowered her sword. “Let’s try again from the beginning. I’ll go slowly, so you can see me coming.”

  Bianca shook her head and walked toward the door. Rilla gaped, open-mouthed and turned to Jacques.

  “Princess Bianca is Princess Bianca,” he replied with a fond smile. “Be patient with her. She’s still in mourning from watching seven of her friends get slaughtered.”

  Rilla gasped. “What kind of magical foe killed them?”

  Jacques shook his head. “The Queen’s guard beheaded them because they were dwarves.”

  Soon after that revelation, Madam Whuppie blew her pipe and stepped in to take Bianca’s place, clutching a broadsword.

  “Wait a second.” Rilla rushed to the weapons table to put back the dropped foil and her long sword. If she was going to fight the instructor, she would need her favorite weapon. She pulled out the staff from her bodice and silently commanded it to expand.

  As soon as Rilla returned to the group, Madam Whuppie swung the broadsword. Rilla blocked the strike with her staff. The impact of the blow sent vibrations up her arm. Soon, the two were exchanging blows, stepping in and out of each other’s guards.

  “It’s two against one, Dubois. Get to work,” snarled the instructor.

  Rilla didn’t even need to dodge Jacques swings, because he kept out of reach and he was only holding a short sword, but Madam Whuppie’s hard and fast movement had Rilla building up a sweat. The instructor leapt under Rilla’s guard and slashed at her bodice with a dagger, but Rilla blocked the blow with her arm and kicked her to the ground.

  “Good!” shouted Madam Whuppie. “Excellent work.” Jacques gave Rilla a broad smile and a round of applause, but failed to block Madam Whuppie cuffing him on the head. “Next time I tell you to participate, Dubois, you fight!”

  At lunchtime, a clerk handed Rilla a thick scroll.

  Dear Miss Perrault,

  Now that The Crown Prince Armin is betrothed, it is no longer proper or seemly for him to receive correspondence from young ladies.

  Attached is the letter you sent today, unopened. Please do not write to him again.

  Yours sincerely,

  Rocas Atholl

  Private Secretary to HRH Prince Armin

  Rilla scowled. Rocas sounded too much like ‘rocks’ and Atholl too much like ‘a troll’ for her liking. She wondered whether the creature who wrote the letter had been chuckling when he signed his obvious troll-like name.

  A wail echoed through the dining hall. Rilla turned to see Freida, sobbing into her plate of lamb. Gwynter helped her up and guided her toward the doors.

  “That makes ten letters that have returned unopened,” she cried, her face covered in gravy.

  Rilla shuddered and picked at her lamb stew, trying not to imagine what the trolls were doing with him while he was under their influence.

  Unarmed Combat in the afternoon went the same as the previous class. Bianca yelled and ran before Rilla could make a punch connect. Jacques spent the entire time dodging instead of striking out.

  With each disappointment, Rilla’s hopes of passing the combat assessment plummeted. She sat on a bench to sulk and regroup, when Corporal Hickathrift stood in front of her, beaming. “Looks like you’re down a sparring partner, Perrault.”

  She smiled back at the instructor.

  What ensued was Rilla’s most exhilarating fight since the trolls. The corporal seemed as strong as Lord Bluebeard, but unlike her betrothed, he punched and struck, instead of just trying to grab her. Rilla ended up with a bruised jaw, but feeling as though she’d had a worthwhile practice.

  That feeling didn’t last. At dinnertime, Rilla’s classmates sat in their teams, discussing strategy, while Jacques sat with Rilla and Bianca, hogging the conversation.

  “Did I ever tell about you the time I went to the wedding of a miller?” he asked.

  Rilla narrowed her eyes.

  Bianca’s cheeks pinked, and she sat straighter. “I don’t think so. What happened?”

  “Everything was going well until the bride made a speech about the strange dream she’d had the night before.”

  Rilla dropped her spoon in her bowl. She would have remembered if someone as handsome as Jacques had been to that wedding. “Is that the one where the bride saw her childhood friend cut up and eaten?”

  Jacques smiled. “You’ve heard it.”

  “I suppose you fought the bridegroom.”

  His face fell and his eyes shifted from side to side. He covered his nose and mouth. “I did.”

  “Who told you about the wedding? You weren’t there.”

  His mouth opened and closed. He turned his head in the direction of the head table.

  Rilla scoffed. Madam Florian wasn’t there to step in with an acerbic comment to make Rilla look like a fool.

  “That was you?” he whispered.

  Rilla nodded.

  “Excuse me.” He got up and left the room.

  Bianca shot Rilla a hurt look, stood and ran out after him. Rilla sighed and stirred her lamb stew. Not only had she failed to find out how Jacques had learned about the wedding, but she’d failed to get her teammates to focus on the assessment.

  She had to do something to guarantee her success on the final assessment, because at this rate, she’d fail and end up at the altar with a smirking Lord Bluebeard.

  Final Assessment

  Over the next two weeks, Rilla spent her spare time chasing down her team to practice combat outside classes. It was a fruitless task, because Jacques always had an excuse for not sparing with Rilla, and Bianca was just as ineffectual. While the Princess never refused to spar she always yielded, swooned or fell ill. Although Rilla no longer had to face taunts and jibes from Madam Florian and the princesses, getting her team ready for the assessment was proving to be stressful.

  The Chancellor spent most of his time in meetings outside the Academy, and it was looking like Rilla’s appeal would be forgotten. She could not rely on her failing grade being overturned, so everything depended on her passing the final assessment.

  The morning of the assessment was somber, with a thick blanket of clouds hanging low in the sky. After dressing in her toughest leather armor, Rilla stuffed everything she could think of taking into her satchel. Then she walked down to breakfast with Millissa. A knot of dread weighed like a boulder in her gut. If she failed, she would be marched to the Cathedral by the Lord Chief Justice and his guards. She could almost feel their spears prodding her back to hasten her steps down the aisle.

  Millissa stopped at the doors leading to the dining hall. “Stop fretting. You can only do your best.”

  “It’s not my performance I’m worried about,” she whispered back. “Bianca and Jacques haven’t practiced as much as the other teams.”

  Stepping inside, Millissa shrugged. “Have faith in them. They might surprise you. Besides, it’s not like you can hide your team somewhere and do the assignment on your own.”

  Rilla grinned and followed after her. That’s exactly what she could do for all of them to pass. She made sure to eat a hearty breakfast, as the assessment required cadets to hunt or gather their own rations on the field.

  The Chancellor, along with Corporal Hickathrift and Madam Whuppie walked over to the tables where Rilla and her classmates clustered. In his colonel uniform, Professor Engel reminded Rilla of a tin soldier, thin and stiff. She glanced around. Jacques sat with the boys’ team and Bianca sat in between Gwynter and a newly released Freida.

  “Gather into your teams, everyone. We will meet in the square outside the main entrance. From th
ere, we march East into the forest.”

  Rilla shuddered, hoping they weren’t going anywhere near the dragon pit.

  The midday sun shone through the clouds by the time they reached a small clearing, and the dense canopy cast shadows overhead.

  “Gather around, Cadets.” The Chancellor spread a map on a felled trunk.

  Rilla eased Jacques and Bianca to the front.

  “The objective for today’s exercise is to find a crown. Each team will be assigned an area in which to search. You must use your wits, abduction and combat skills in order to defeat enemy guards and retrieve your prizes.”

  Bianca wobbled on her feet. “You didn’t mention enemies, Chancellor.”

  The man raised his eyebrows and stared at her for several long seconds. Rilla could feel Bianca tremble. “Cadet Prevern. Surely you did not think your combat classes were not going to form part of your final assessment?”

  She dipped her head. “I wasn’t sure.”

  Rilla tamped down a surge of irritation. She had told Bianca several times that they would have to fight others in order to pass. And that yielding was not a viable option in combat.

  “The first team to arrive at the Academy with their crown receives first class,” said Madam Whuppie. “Any team returning within half an hour of them is awarded second classes. One hour after is a third class grade. Anything after that is a fail.”

  Rilla’s stomach flip-flopped. She glanced at her team members, hoping they would forgive her for taking over the task.

  Corporal Hickathrift handed Jacques a cow horn then gave one to a member from each team. “This is an enhanced horn. Use it only if a team member needs urgent help.”

  Madam Whuppie assigned each team a direction in which to head. Rilla’s team had to march east, which would take them the farthest away from the Academy.

  After ten minutes of walking through the forest, Bianca squeaked.

  Rilla stopped. “What’s wrong?”

  “I think I heard something.”

  “There are lots of squirrels in the woods,” said Rilla.

  “But what if it’s an assassin?”

  Rilla’s eyes widened. She thought back to all the poisoned items the Princess had received and the story Jacques had told her about Bianca’s dwarf friends being slaughtered. It was no wonder Bianca jumped and shook at everything.

  She was about to say something reassuring when Jacques spoke. “If anyone so much as looks at you with the least honorable of intentions, I will lay down my life and protect you.”

  “Oh, Jacques.” Tears brimmed in Bianca’s eyes. “I’m not sure I can survive this without you.”

  Jacques took the Princess’s hands in his. “I will be here for you. Forever and always.”

  Rilla bristled at the obvious social climbing, but didn’t want to slow down the team by making Bianca doubt her confidence in Jacques. “Let’s keep moving.”

  The other two exchanged fond but exasperated looks and Rilla clenched her teeth. It was clear to her that they had talked about her behind her back. But this was no time to dwell on idle gossip. She had an assessment to pass.

  They continued trudging through the forest, until Bianca doubled over, holding her stomach. She leaned against a thick oak tree, her face the color of diluted milk. Jacques knelt in front of her, like a Prince making a proposal to a fainting damsel.

  “I didn’t eat this morning,” she said in a small voice.

  Jacques turned to Rilla. “Could you take care of my lady while I find us something to eat?”

  Rilla blinked several times before nodding. Jacques kissed Bianca’s hand and walked toward the burbling of a stream. She watched his retreating form with a frown. Jacques had always seemed full of false tales and bravado. Could he have hidden depths?

  “I know you think poorly of me,” said Bianca. Rilla sucked in a breath, trying to form a platitude that wasn’t a complete lie. “Don’t bother. I’m quite aware of how I appear to others.”

  Rilla looked everywhere but at the Princess. “Actually, I was disappointed you didn’t speak out against Freida and Gwynter.”

  “Most of the time, I didn’t even hear what they were saying. It’s been a difficult few months. I’ve suffered a great misfortune.”

  “Jacques told me you were having a hard time coping with…you know.”

  Bianca nodded. The silence stretched out for minutes, filled by distant birdsong. “Yes, well. I want to apologize in advance. I won’t be able to contribute much to this assignment.”

  Rilla sat at the foot of a tree and shrugged. “I have a plan, anyway.”

  Jacques emerged from behind a tall shrub, clutching two handfuls of berries, leaves and roots. He grinned, inclining his head. “My Ladies, your feast awaits.”

  The other two sat, and they ate Jacques’ food. Rilla wondered whether Jacques’ last name, DuBois, meant his family lived or worked in the woods. She didn’t ask, because it was clear to her that Jacques wanted to make himself appear noble and heroic in front of the Princess, and she didn’t want to create any upset with awkward questions.

  A light breeze blew the scent of a campfire across Rilla’s nose. She stiffened. “I think we could be near our target.”

  “How do you know?” asked Jacques with a frown.

  “Can’t you smell the smoke?”

  Jacques shook his head, and Rilla turned to Bianca.

  She pinked. “My nose isn’t so strong these days.”

  Rilla didn’t ask. She imagined that a creative and determined assassin like the Queen of Prevern would sometimes succeed in poisoning her target. Sometimes, even with an antidote, there were side effects to ingesting poisons, and losing a sense was one of them. She placed her finger over her lips and motioned for the others to stand.

  Together, they crept between the trees, behind large shrubs and over moss-covered rocks, until they heard the soft nickers of horses.

  “Over here,” hissed Rilla. She darted toward a man-sized boulder.

  Jacques and Bianca followed and looked at her with wide, expectant eyes.

  “Stay quiet,” whispered Rilla, pulling out her sling. “You two hide here, while I go and see if I can knock out whoever’s guarding the crown.”

  They both nodded.

  Rilla crept forward, keeping her head low. She peeked around the back of a thick tree trunk and found six senior cadets milling in front of a stone cottage. She loaded her sling, aimed for the largest student and swung. The stone hit the young man’s head with a dull thump, and the man fell.

  “Marcassin,” cried a young woman. “What’s wrong?”

  Rilla aimed the next stone at her temple and hit her target. She made a wide circle around to the side of the cottage on her hands and knees. The other four cadets readied their swords, looking from side to side.

  From various hiding places in the undergrowth, Rilla knocked out the other cadets. The whole process took only a few minutes, and after felling her last opponent, she crept to the back of the cottage and made her way to the door.

  “Cendrilla Perrault,” shouted a harsh voice.

  Something about the low rumble of the speaker made her insides jump. Her feet froze, and she clutched her shrunken staff.

  “Come out. I have your friends.”

  Two huge, hooded men stood in front of the house, holding Jacques and Bianca. The Princess was slung over the speaker’s shoulder and the second man held a downcast Jacques by both arms.

  The men reminded Rilla of the trolls she’d fought on her way to the first ball. Their bulking frames were troll-like, but they could have been large men. It was hard to tell, as they had covered their faces with black cloth, and she couldn’t make out their eyes.

  “Step forward, or we will twist off their necks.”

  Breathing hard through her nostrils, Rilla walked to the front of the house.

  “Good. Now drop the sling.”

  Rilla obeyed the man’s order.

  “And where is that troublesome staff of y
ours?”

  “In my bag.” Rilla made sure her voice didn’t shake. She’d defeated five highwaymen and three trolls, all while untrained. After sparring with Colonel Hickathrift and Madam Whuppie, she had nothing to fear from these two.

  “Take it out and throw it to the side.”

  Rilla rifled into her bag, pulled out a pencil and tossed it into a nearby bush.

  The hooded man holding Jacques nodded. His companion grabbed Jacques and tossed him and Bianca into the stone cottage. They both stepped forward. Rilla backed away, but they positioned themselves on either side of her, walking around in a slow circle.

  “Who are you?” she asked, swallowing. “Is this part of the assessment?”

  The larger of the two men laughed. It was a dry, hollow sound. “You are outnumbered. Surrender, and we will make it painless.”

  Before she could blink, the smaller man rushed forward. She spun out of his path and pushed him into his companion. The other man shoved him aside, and they both advanced on her as one.

  “Now, we will make it excruciating for you and your friends.”

  A cold anger surged through Rilla’s body, making her limbs shake with anticipation. “The only pain here will be yours.”

  The staff sprang to its combat size, and she swung it at the man’s head. His arm shot out, and he yanked hard. She let go, not wanting to be pulled along. The man toppled over and fell under the weapon’s weight.

  “It has been ensorcelled,” he hissed. The staff pinned him to the ground, despite his struggles.

  She kicked the man in the face, loosening the cloth over his face. It revealed grey, leathery skin. “Trolls.”

  Rilla ducked a punch from the other troll, stepped under his guard and launched an uppercut into his neck. Pain shot through her fist. She stepped back several paces, shaking her hand.

  The troll clutched its neck. It pulled off its face covering, eyes bulging, mouth slack. A gray tongue lolled out, and it scratched at its throat. It advanced one step, two steps toward her before falling to its knees, choking.

  Backing away, Rilla clapped her hands over her mouth and whimpered. She turned her gaze away from the dying troll and toward the cottage.