The Academy (Perrault Chronicles Book 2)

by Cordelia Castel

  “You are a monster, Cendrilla Perrault,” said a rasping voice.

  Rilla’s gaze snapped back to the troll who had been pinned under her staff.

  “Will you not kill him and end his suffering?” It asked.

  A lump formed in her throat. It wasn’t her fault. How was she supposed to know a troll, the creature with the toughest skin in the known world would be felled by a single punch? She didn’t mean to kill him.

  “You and your Kingdoms would condemn us for trying to ensure our survival, yet you do the same.”

  Rilla shook her head. She had no idea what it was talking about, and she was nothing like a troll.

  “Including myself and Roel, how many of my kind will you have killed before nightfall? Five?”

  The number was six. No one, apart from Jack and Armin, knew about the troll she’d fought at the bridge. But that had been an accident. It had grabbed her staff, fallen into the water and drowned. That troll, like all the others, had attacked first.

  Rilla gritted her teeth. “You’re trying to convince me to let you go, aren’t you?”

  “It will be one less death at your hands.”

  “Weren’t you the one who said you’d make it painful for me?”

  The troll did not reply, and Rilla kicked it in the temple, knocking it out. She would not let herself or her teammates get killed or abducted because she listened to a manipulative troll. She opened her satchel and pulled out a rope and a vial of Trollsbane.

  After tying up the creature, making sure to loop the vial around its front, to keep it too weak to break through the ropes, she checked on the second troll. It lay on the ground, its hands wrapped around its throat, gray liquid seeping out of its mouth. The troll was no longer breathing, and she gave it a silent apology for a painful death.

  She pushed open the door of the stone cottage. It felt heavy and creaked with effort. The interior was a single, darkened room.

  “Jacques?” Rilla stepped inside.

  The door slammed behind her, and she spun. The metallic sound of a bolt sliding into its lock echoed through the empty room.

  Rilla’s heart jumped out of her chest. The troll couldn’t have recovered so quickly.

  A small panel in the door opened, and Jacques’ face became visible through the metal bars. He was not smiling. “Rilla, I’m sorry for betraying you like this, but I have no choice.”

  The Bluebirds

  Rilla punched the door. The lack of reverberation against her fist made her think the wood was veneer over metal. Jacques stepped back a few paces as though afraid she would break down the door and throttle him. Perhaps her intentions showed on her face. It was hard to stay calm when confronting a glory thief. If Rilla failed this assessment, she was not only expelled from the Academy, she would be doomed to marry Lord Bluebeard.

  “If this is a stupid ploy for you to take credit for defeating the other cadets, it won’t work.” She shook the metal bars. They did not budge even a fraction. “Besides, we haven’t found the crown yet.”

  With an apologetic smile, Jacques lifted a golden wreath to the grill.

  Rilla huffed. She had to find a way to convince him to let her out.

  “Those cadets knew it was me who fought them. You’ll never get them to say you defeated them. You were hiding behind the boulder, remember?”

  Jacques bowed his head. “Maybe.”

  “What happens when the instructors ask them how exactly you won? You’ll be exposed for a fraud. Everyone will question all your other stories.”

  Jacques raised his eyes and shook his head with a sad smile. “I don’t care about the exams.”

  Rilla gripped the bars. It would do no good to scare him away by shouting. She gritted her teeth and said, “Let me out of here, then!”

  “I can’t, Perrault. Sorry.”

  “What do you mean? Open the door.”

  Jacques rubbed his brow. “Someone knows my secret, you see. He’s been trying to get hold of you for ages, but you keep eluding him.”

  “Lord Bluebeard?”

  “He said…” Jacques licked his lips. “If I don’t capture you, he’ll tell everyone about me.”

  Rilla squeezed her eyes shut, leaning her forehead against the bars. Blackmailing Jacques seemed too underhanded, even for Lord Bluebeard. Besides, he was more likely to snatch her himself or use his birds. She tested the bars again for give. There was none. Her only hope was to convince Jacques to let her go.

  “This is probably the last time we’ll see each other, so goodbye,” he said.

  Rilla’s head snapped up.

  “I’m so sorry, Perrault. Please don’t think badly of me.” Jacques turned and stepped towards the woods.

  “Wait.”

  He stopped and looked over his shoulder.

  Ranting at Jacques would drive him away. From her recollection of his earlier exploits, he was a young man who liked people to listen to him. Rilla exhaled all her fear and anger, making her voice as neutral as possible. “Can you at least say who’s coming for me?”

  Jacques shrugged. “He told me not to say.”

  Her stomach dropped. She thought of another way to coax Jacques. “Maybe we can work something out. I’m friends with the Lord High Steward and the Crown Prince. I can help you.”

  “He would have me destroyed before your friends can even get to me.”

  “Just tell me who he is.”

  “I can’t.” Jacques walked backward, so he was several steps away from Rilla. “That whole thing with the dragons. That was him as well.”

  “What?”

  “That’s how powerful he is. He can do anything, reach anyone. I can’t betray him.”

  Rilla stared at Jacques, slack-mouthed.

  He rubbed the side of his nose. “It wasn’t Freida and Gwynter, like you thought.”

  “But you said—”

  “I know, and I didn’t like the way they were talking about you. You might not believe me, but I’m very fond of you.”

  “And this is how you treat people you like?”

  “It was either you or me, and I chose myself. You’ve got to understand.”

  “Well.” Rilla paused to think about how to phrase what she was going to say next. “Self-preservation is important. And I can see things a little from your point of view. But wouldn't someone who likes being in the center of heroic stories want to overthrow a tyrant?”

  Jacques bowed his head and scratched his chin.

  Rilla’s shoulders relaxed. At least she was getting him to think. “Why don’t you open the door? We can defeat this man together.”

  When Jacques looked up, tears fell down his cheeks. “I’m not a hero like you. You were right when you called me a braggart and a thief. There’s no way someone like me could ever defy him.”

  “Who?”

  “I know what you’re doing. You can’t trick me into opening the door or telling you anything.” Jacques shook his head, stepping backward. He wiped away his tears with his fist. “He told me to deposit you here. No chatting with the prisoner. No giving things away. Or I’ll be punished.”

  “And you really think he will let you continue living when you know so much about him?”

  “Better to live another day as a slave than die a martyr.”

  A surge of rage shot through her body. Rilla clenched her teeth. “And living with the guilt of betraying a friend?”

  Jacques turned and bowed his head.

  Rilla sneered. She would find a way out of this prison, and when she did, the second person she would come after was this coward. His master would need to be dealt with first.

  “Goodbye, Perrault.” There were sobs in his voice. “I will take care of Bianca.”

  “Will she want you when she finds out what you’ve done? Because things have a way of getting out.”

  Jacques bent down and picked up Bianca from the ground. Her head lolled back, and even from her distance, Rilla could make out the Princess’s eyes flutter. “At least I’ve le
ft the hatch open. You’ll get fresh air while you wait.”

  “If you change your mind, tell someone at the Academy where I am.” That message was for Bianca, in case she was listening. Rilla didn’t hold out much hope.

  Regret settled around Rilla like a dull, heavy shroud. It weighed down her head, causing it to slump against the bars. She should never have let Dora talk her into those dance lessons. If she’d maintained her suspicions about Jacques, she wouldn’t have walked into a trap. And now, he was marching off into the forest like a victorious hero, leaving Rilla to the mercy of his master.

  “You’re a coward and an assassin,” she spat.

  His shoulders stiffened, but he did not falter in his steps.

  “Jacques!”

  Jacques disappeared into the trees with the Princess.

  Rilla shouted his name until her throat hurt, but he did not return. She turned, surveying the room once more for weak points. The walls consisted of large slabs of tightly packed, grey stone. Rilla ran her fingers over the mortar holding the stones together. While it was rough on her skin, it didn’t crumble. She tried picking at it with the edge of her shrunken staff, but it stayed intact.

  Huffing, she approached her next target. The stone fireplace had a chimney. It looked wide enough on the outside, so she put her knees on the front hearth, pulled out the grate and crawled into the firebox.

  When she was fully inside, she stood. Her shoulders barely fit in the chimney space, and in the dark, surrounded by all the walls, she felt her body stiffen. Sweat broke out on her forehead, her armpits, and she ignored the nausea crawling up her throat. If she could climb up the chimney and get free from this hut, she could throw up as much as she liked.

  Rilla turned and leaned back. She raised one foot and pressed it flat against the wall. Then, thrusting her damp palms against the sides, she pulled herself off the ground. The cramped space meant her movements were confined to shuffling up like an oversized arachnid, but she made progress up the chimney.

  Eventually, the chimney narrowed to the point where she could not wedge her shoulders any farther. Curling them forward only made her feel more constricted and sick. Her pounding heart reverberated throughout her body, giving her tremors, making sweat pour into her eyes and mouth.

  “This isn’t going to work.” She climbed down on shaking limbs.

  Once she reached the bottom, she crawled out and rested on her hands and knees. Her arms collapsed, her elbows hit the cool, stone floor, and she sucked in huge gulps of air. After several moments, the panic and nausea subsided, and she sat up and looked around.

  The floors were made of the same stone as the wall. Thick, wooden beams, similar to those in the Perrault Manor kitchen formed the ceiling. She could break through the wood with her staff, but if she knocked herself out, she’d be at the mercy of Jacques’ master.

  Rilla stood and tried pulling on the bars of the door again. Like everything in this wretched hut, it remained steadfast. She supposed the part where the hinges met the masonry could be eroded over time, but she didn’t have weeks or months to set herself free.

  The red-breasted bluebird perched on the window of her prison door.

  A surge of joy burst through Rilla’s chest. Why hadn’t she thought of the bluebirds? “Robin!”

  The red-breasted bird let out several reprimanding tweets.

  Rilla bristled. “I know I got myself into this mess, but I thought it was part of my Academy assessment.”

  After enduring several more angry tweets, Rilla interrupted the bird’s tirade.

  “You’re probably saying I would have been safe if I listened to Lord Bluebeard, and you’re right, but I don’t want to marry him.” She held up her hand. “We can discuss the why-nots later. Right now, I need to get out of here before the man behind the dragon ambush comes.”

  The bird bobbed his head.

  “I’ve got several vials of alchemical elixirs in my bag. Can you get them for me?”

  Robin tilted his head to the side.

  “I know it can’t fit through the window, but if you bring the bag, you can hand me—I mean pass me the vials.”

  The bird flew off, and for the first time since realizing she was trapped, Rilla felt hopeful. It wouldn’t take her long to get out, go back to the Academy, expose Jacques and get him to reveal everything about his master. She would then get a pass for this assignment and everything would be fine again.

  Robin returned with another bluebird. They both held her bag in their beaks.

  “Thank you. I’m looking for a bright green vial. Can you get it for me, please?”

  Each bird returned holding in their beaks different colored vials.

  “Oh. You can’t see colors? All right, keep showing me the vials until I say stop.”

  For the next few minutes, the birds brought Rilla different elixirs. Eventually, Robin produced the correct one.

  “That’s it. Thank you,” said Rilla.

  She poured the elixir, Liquid Trollsbane, around the joints of the door. The mortar sizzled. Rilla grinned. “It’s working!”

  Robin disappeared and brought up another vial of the same elixir. Rilla supposed he could smell it, now that he knew which one she needed.

  Over the next few minutes, Rilla dissolved the mortar and masonry. The door became looser every time she shook it. When she had used up the two vials, she looked up at the birds. “I need you to take the bag a few feet away. I don’t want it crushed when I take the door off its hinges.”

  The birds obeyed and returned, both sitting on the little window ledge.

  “You two need to perch on a nearby tree.”

  They didn’t move, so she shrugged and stepped back. The first kick sent the birds flapping their wings and brought the door off the bottom hinges. The keyhole side of the door stayed fast. It took several kicks, pushes and applications of a third vial of Trollsbane for Rilla to make a gap large enough for her to crawl through.

  With a whoop of joy, Rilla got on her knees, ready to escape through the space.

  “Hello?” said a muffled voice.

  She stopped.

  “Can you hear me?”

  Rilla turned.

  “Please?” said the voice. It was high-pitched and seemed to come from the fireplace.

  Rilla crawled over and put her ear on the inner hearth. “Who’s there?”

  “Marie-Anne.”

  “And how old are you?”

  “Seven.”

  Rilla gulped. “What’s a child doing down there?”

  “Some men came to my house and took my mum, my cousin and my baby sister. I don’t know where Mum is anymore. We’re all stuck here.”

  Rilla frowned. “What do you mean by ‘here?’”

  “I don’t know. Hold on.”

  Robin perched beside Rilla and pecked her hand. He let out several harsh tweets. She supposed he wanted her to get out, but the bluebird obviously didn’t know Rilla. She snatched her hand away and said, “I can’t leave a little girl down there.”

  After a minute, Marie-Anne returned. “Barbara says we’re in an underground dungeon. All the grownups are chained to the wall.”

  “Okay. I’ll get you out.”

  Robin flew up on Rilla’s shoulder and tugged on her earlobe.

  “Ouch!” When Rilla turned around, she found half a dozen bluebirds perched on the window of the lopsided door. They all tweeted and squawked. Rilla guessed they were telling her to get away, and that it was a trap. But she didn’t want to be the kind of person to save her own neck while others suffered. Not after what happened with Bruna. “Can some of you look around for a strange man? Warn me if he comes?”

  Four of the birds flew away.

  “Who’s keeping you here, Marie-Anne?”

  “A bad man.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  “No.”

  Rilla nodded. It didn’t matter. “How often does he come?”

  Marie-Anne went silent for several seconds, and Rill
a cursed herself for not asking the right question. She should be trying to find a way in.

  “Every few days, we think.”

  “How does he get in and out?”

  “I followed him out the last time he came. There’s some stairs and a door.”

  “Bang on the door.”

  Two small thuds sounded from behind the chimney wall.

  Rilla exhaled. Somehow, she must have missed it when she was trying to shimmy up. “When was he last here?”

  “Yesterday.”

  Rilla turned to Robin. “He might not come back until tomorrow.”

  The bird shook his head.

  “You mean he could be back sooner than that?”

  Robin nodded.

  It would take Jacques an hour or so to make it back to the Academy to inform his master. If she could find her way down in the next few minutes, she could break into the cells, lead the women out and be gone before the man came to get her. If she met him in the forest, she would just have to defeat him.

  Robin screeched at her.

  “What? Is there a strange man coming?”

  He shook his head.

  “I’m going, whether you like it or not. If you have strong objections, get Lord Bluebeard to come down here. He’d be a great ally to have right now.”

  A large, grey-breasted bluebird flew into the room and dropped a small note on Rilla’s lap. She unfolded it and read:

  Cendrilla,

  If you are reading this, the bluebirds have deemed you in mortal peril and wish to let you know that I am still abroad and making my way back to the Seven Kingdoms.

  They will protect you to the death, and as long as one remains alive, I will find you wherever you are.

  Stay alive and use the birds to fetch you anything you need. If things become dire, order them in my name to fight for you.

  Lord Bluebeard

  Ambassador of Steppe

  P.S. I know you failed one of your subjects and you’re likely to fail your final assessment. On my return, I will bring an army to march you to the altar.

  Rilla screwed up the note and scowled. How typical of Lord Bluebeard to offer assistance, then bring up marriage! He was right about one thing: if she stayed to help the trapped women, she would definitely fail the assignment and fall into her betrothed’s clutches. She stuffed the note in her pocket. There was no other option. She would save the women, even if it meant failing.