Page 25 of Beast and Remedy
So, Marian trained to be my royal advisor as I prepared to fill the role of queen.
But today, Pierre’s offhanded comments about needing to be more strategic is not something I want to hear. And Iespeciallydo not appreciate him shifting topics toward marriage.
“Mustyou bring this up again, Pierre?” I mumble through an annoyed breath as we exit the meeting chambers, heading toward the throne room.
Pierre drags a hand through his short brown hair, his tolerance already thin. “You are the future of the crown,” he reminds me, and I roll my eyes.
The guards open the tall wooden doors, and my sister nudges me, reminding me of the audience waiting.
I square my shoulders, old habits clicking into place as we pass through the entryway, the crowd parting a path and bowing.
The deep russet-stained wooden floors match the walls covered in golden framed paintings and ancestral portraits. Maroon curtains are drawn back, fastened to the sides of each window, sunlight casting light amongst the lifeless stares trailing after my family.
Shadows hug the ceiling where the chandelier above rests immovable, the chains holding it gathered and coiled behind the dais. And ahead of me lie two thrones, carved from oakwood, featuring high arched backs fastened into the foundation.
Jean and Pierre stand to the right, while Marian and I take our places on the small bench to the left. The diadem I wear weighs heavy as we sit, and I adjust it before digging at the skin between my nails as my father takes his seat and beckons the first person to speak.
Lomburg citizens come forward, one by one, many of their homes and loved ones lost from defending their town from the animal attack while we were in Palaena.
And with each one, Papa wants to grant them their heart’s desire. He’s always been generous, but Pierre is constantly at his side, reminding him of what we can and cannot offer.
Even if Pierre was right, I would never admit it to him.
We grant lodgings and care with the lords of Lomburg, ensuring food and other assistance will be provided until homes can be rebuilt. And with one of the last townsfolk pleased, I shift my hips, my backside aching.
“Me too,” Marian mutters, and I suppress my smirk as the next citizen comes forward.
A petite woman with sunken features, slightly visible through long copper curls clouding over her forehead, hides her face as she approaches. The woman’s blue eyes dart up, filled with an unreadable emotion, and the protocol I maintain slips.
I want to brave a glance at my family, but my gut churns, forcing my attention to remain on the lady.
She lowers into a curtsy, then crumples when she dips her head.
Guardsmen rush to her, and alarm prickles up my spine as I observe her mannerisms for any clues to her abrupt collapse.Her sobs echo, and the silence sweeping over the room draws forth goose bumps along my skin.
Jean steps forward and catches Papa, restraining him from speaking before padding down the dais. His tall, slender frame sinks to a knee, and he clasps her hands.
“Can you tell us your name and where you ventured from?” he asks, his words barely audible.
“I-I’m from C-C’eaux, my lord.” She sniffs, and her chest rises and falls through her choked sob. “M-My n-name is Ann. Annie Flandin.”
I try to recollect her family name but come up short. But I’m sure Marian knows. She always knows.
Jean’s deep voice grows as he addresses the woman and the crowd. “Annie, we are grateful for your travels, and the crown wishes to hear all burdens. Are you able to share with us and your king what brings you such sorrow?”
The tenderness of Jean’s voice reminds me of the countless occasions when he would educate Marian and me when we were children. But the gentleness he offers does nothing to soothe me as the woman twists to my father.
“M-M-My village…” She pauses, stuttered breaths escaping. “Th-Th-They’re all gone.”
Gasps and quiet conversations explode as my stomach plummets.
Annie’s tear-stricken gaze meets mine.
“I-I-I don’t know how many animals there were, but”—her eyes fill with more tears before she looks to her king, devastation and grief speaking through her—“they… they killed them all. My-my family, my friends—” She sniffs. “They all died, and I almost did, too. I-I-I barely escaped with scratches.” Annie’s sobs ricochet off the walls, accompanied by other citizens raising their voices.
“There was already an animal attack in Lomburg,” a feminine voice whispers.
“And now C’eaux?” a man with noble ranktsks.
