The Academy (Perrault Chronicles Book 2)

by Cordelia Castel

  The Academy

  A Fairy Tale

  Cordelia Castel

  Copyright © 2017 by Cordelia Castel

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  www.CordeliaCastel.com

  Contents

  1. Kapital Plaza

  2. The Ball

  3. The Visitor

  4. The Trial

  5. Professor Engel

  6. Via Plutus

  7. Art of Assassination

  8. Azure Salt

  9. Doctor Morgen

  10. Walled Orchard

  11. General Cazador

  12. Ogre-Fairy Alliance

  13. Anonymous Note

  14. Royal Trouble

  15. Meeting Of Representatives

  16. Double Combat

  17. The Tavern

  18. Bluebeard’s Proposal

  19. Princess Olga

  20. Final Assessment

  21. The Bluebirds

  22. The Testing Room

  23. The Mastermind

  24. Rilla’s Reaction

  25. Madam Hessen

  26. The Assembly Hall

  Reviews

  Also by Cordelia Castel

  About the Author

  Kapital Plaza

  Rilla perched side-saddle on the back of Prince Armin’s horse, her damp palms pressing into its sides for balance. Her heart fluttered like butterfly wings. What kind of mess had she gotten herself into? Fighting trolls with an enchanted weapon was bad enough, but the white light that came out of her hands hadn’t even been human. She took several shallow breaths, trying to calm herself, trying to guess what kind of magical creature she might be and whether she would be executed like the trolls.

  The oil lamps illuminated the winding streets of Metropole and cast a yellow glow over the limestone buildings, making the cobblestones glisten like gems. She glanced down at her legs. Even in the artificial light, she could make out the rips and mud stains on the blue silk of her gown. Her heart sank like a boulder. So much for attending a royal ball in style.

  She inhaled the warm scent of leather and nutmeg wafting from the prince. Her bare shoulder rubbed against the silk of his purple jacket. The Prince’s ebony hair was tied back in a navy silk ribbon, and it reached all the way to his broad shoulders. His face was attractive and kindly, even with a bruise blossoming on his temple.

  An angry roar broke her out of her musings. With a jolt, Rilla glanced over her shoulder, dreading the sight of a stampeding Lord Bluebeard, her fiancé, brandishing his curved scimitar.

  To her relief, the palace guards crowded around her betrothed. Even from the growing distance of a few dozen feet, his incandescent blue eyes blazed. He towered over the other men. “You dare stand between a Lord and his fiancée?” he roared, rage turning his bellowing incoherent. “Out of my way. I will have you all flayed alive!”

  Fear shook Rilla’s bones and chilled her skin. It would only take one blow for him to break free and come after them.

  The horse picked up speed, bouncing her up and down, her posterior burned from slapping against its back. Rilla wobbled with the trotting. Her arms flew up to grab onto Prince Armin, but she shoved them back to the horse’s sides. She wouldn’t breach etiquette by clinging to his royal person without invitation.

  “Are you all right there?” asked the Prince.

  “Yes.” Her voice faltered, and her palms itched against the horsehair.

  The thought of Lord Bluebeard having a dangerous piece of information to hold over her made Rilla nauseous. If in his rage, he blurted out to the guards that Rilla had made the blast of light instead of the trolls, she was finished. She hoped he would realize she could also condemn him by telling the guards of his status as a half-ogre.

  “My apologies for snatching you so quickly,” the Prince said over his shoulder. “But that man was quite irate. I thought it best to get you away from him as soon as possible.”

  “I appreciate it, Your Highness. He’s rather persistent, and I want to avoid him as much as possible.” Rilla slipped a few inches down the side of the horse. “Oh!”

  “My Lady, please hold onto my waist.”

  Without hesitation and with her heart thumping, she wrapped her arms around the Prince.

  He chuckled. “I’m Armin, by the way. I’d very much like to know who to thank for doing a better job than my Royal Guard.”

  A slow heat burned through Rilla’s cheeks. She was thankful the Prince could not see her face. “I’m Cendrilla Perrault, from Moissan, Serotin. But my friends call me Rilla.”

  “Well, Rilla, thank you for rescuing me from those trolls.”

  Rilla smiled. “It was an honor, Your Highness. But I must ask, why were they executed so abruptly? I thought the guards would want to question them first.”

  “By law, the use of magic is grounds for immediate execution. It’s how we protect ourselves from magical foes in this land.”

  “What if they’re half human?” she whispered. Prince Armin didn’t reply right away, and Rilla felt a ripple of fear shoot up her spine. She couldn’t reveal Lord Bluebeard’s true identity, as they now both shared a deadly secret about one another. But she didn’t want the Prince to think her question related to herself.

  “An interesting line of inquiry,” said the Prince, his voice flat.

  “I only ask because I was recently at a wedding, and the bridegroom was suspected to be part ogre. I never got a chance to discover his true status. I was on the run from my betrothed at the time.”

  “I can’t say I blame you,” Prince Armin replied, seeming satisfied with Rilla’s half-truth.

  Rilla, in her own turn, wondered what had possessed her to admit to being a runaway bride. She never used to run her mouth like a Nattering toad.

  The horse trotted around a corner, and they passed a small church with King Midas pear trees growing within its walled gardens. The golden fruit glimmered in the lamplight. Two rows of tall, flat-fronted stone houses lay on both sides of the road. Rilla had always imagined the homes in Metropole to be large and spacious, like the manors or country cottages in her village in Serotin.

  “I’ve encountered a troll before,” she blurted. “It turned a man into a goat for not paying to cross its bridge.” She left out her fight to the death with the creature. If wielding an enchanted weapon in self-defense counted as using magic, she wouldn’t admit to a capital offense.

  Prince Armin shook his head, “Trolls are powerful brutes with toughened skin, but they have no magic power apart from their combat skills. Are you sure it wasn’t a fairy or a witch in disguise?”

  “It was about six foot six, almost as wide, with a dull gray, elephantlike skin.”

  “How in heaven did you escape the creature unharmed?” asked the Prince.

  Rilla flushed. “We both fell in the water, and it drowned.”

  “It rather bothers me that so many trolls are in our land. I often wonder which other magical races have infiltrated our borders.”

  She wouldn’t mention the Johnnycake boy she and Jack had rescued. The harsh and unforgiving laws of the Kingdom would judge the harmless creature deserving of execution for the crime of merely existing. A pang shot through her heart at the thought of her first friend, whom she’d left behind with great reluctance. She missed their quiet companionship and their brief, stolen kisses.

  They reached the castle walls which were imposing and overgrown with vines and thorny brambles. They looked impossible to scale unless one had the toug
hened hide of a troll.

  “It’s incredible that someone your age and, if you’ll pardon me, of your gender, could take on so many of those creatures alone,” said the Prince. His words broke her from her thoughts. “How did you do it?”

  Rilla balked and tried to remember Lord Bluebeard’s version of events. “My betrothed and I found the trolls trying to get you on the back of a horse—”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Prince Armin pulled on the reins. The horse slowed to a walk. He added in a quiet voice, “I wasn’t unconscious, only blindfolded. Lord Bluebeard arrived some time after you did. You alone rescued me.”

  Rilla bit her lip, her mouth went dry, and she stared down at her underskirt, showing through the rip in her gown. She couldn’t tell him the truth. Even if she had saved his life. Seconds dragged by in silence. She parted her lips, but nothing came out.

  The prince stopped the horse and turned his face to hers, waiting for an answer.

  She closed her eyes and inhaled. “I suppose in the rush of it all, I grabbed one of their clubs, started swinging, and landed a few lucky blows. Then, at some point, one of them produced that magic blast.” She peeped at the Prince, who listened with narrowed eyes. “I dodged it, but Lord Bluebeard didn’t. And it must have backfired because it knocked out all the trolls.”

  The silence mounted, becoming more and more oppressive. Rilla thought she could hear the strains of an orchestra from beyond the castle walls.

  “I see.” The prince sounded unconvinced, but he didn’t question Rilla any further. He tapped the horse’s sides with his boots, and they moved forward. The tense silence resumed, and Rilla missed the easy and peaceful quiet she’d shared with Jack. He never asked her awkward questions like Prince Armin.

  “Your Highness? I’m grateful to you for helping me get away from my betrothed, but must I join the Army?”

  The Prince laughed. “My Lady, even if I wanted to look the other way, you defeated those trolls in front of my Royal Guard. At your age, you get conscripted on the spot. The gossip mill is ever at work, so I’m sure word of what you’ve done is already the toast of several taverns and households. If you’re not serving the Kingdom, people will wonder.”

  “Right,” Rilla murmured, despair making her shoulders droop. She didn’t know what had made her produce that blast of magic. The risk of doing it again in front of the wrong people was very real indeed. Not only that, but repeating the lie that she and Lord Bluebeard had been allies—her dignity wasn’t up to that challenge.

  As a final blow to her morale, she realized Prince Armin had never told her what happened to half-humans. Not that she was a half-human, but that power was suspicious enough to have her categorized as such. She shivered. Would she have her head struck from her body just like those trolls if her true nature was ever revealed? It seemed a real possibility.

  Something, a small dog or large cat, darted across their path. The horse reared, and Rilla lost her grip from around the Prince’s waist. With a yelp, she tumbled off the beast’s back and crashed to the ground.

  “My Lady!” Prince Armin dismounted and kneeled in front of her, worry etched across his perfect brows. “Are you hurt?”

  “Just my pride,” she muttered.

  Her gown had ridden up to the top of her thighs, and the Prince’s gaze caught on her exposed legs. He coughed. “Nice…boots.”

  He helped her up, his eyes crinkled and his lips pressed together, like someone trying not to laugh.

  Rilla’s flush spread up from the bodice of her gown. She stared at the cobbled road, not wanting to gawk at the man who had featured so heavily in the twins’ whispered fantasies about Metropole. It didn’t help that the prince was a handsome young man. He was taller than Rilla, but not hulking like Lord Bluebeard. She actually felt feminine in his presence as she usually dwarfed men of her age.

  “My apologies for the state of your gown,” Prince Armin said, “I will have some servants tidy it up for you, but it’s not that bad. Besides, you saved my life. You’re the guest of honor.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness.” Rilla could barely squeeze out the words. The thought of being the center of attention made the butterflies in her stomach writhe. She braced herself for public humiliation. Or worse.

  “Come on. We can walk the rest of the way.” The prince held the horse’s bridle with his right hand and bent his left elbow in invitation.

  She’d never strolled arm in arm with a gentleman before, let alone a prince. After a lot of fumbling on Rilla’s part, she took his arm, and together they walked alongside the wall of brambles and thorns.

  Carriages emblazoned with different coats of arms trundled past, their lantern lights glaring. She even recognized one from the Duroc family, who ruled Serotin.

  “Oh, I almost forgot!” Rilla turned to the Prince. “Happy Birthday.”

  Prince Armin grinned. “Thank you. Of all the gifts I’ve received so far, the memory of your daring rescue will be one I’ll cherish forever.”

  She bit back a smile and basked in the glow of the Prince’s attention. Inside, Rilla wanted to shout with glee. If the Prince or his father, the King, offered her a reward, she’d ask for immunity from joining the army. And a job somewhere quiet where she could work in obscurity, undetected by Lord Bluebeard. At least until she reached the age of twenty-one and could claim the Perrault fortune.

  They turned at the corner of the wall. Before them was a huge, paved square. Tall streetlights lined its edges, casting their yellow light on grand buildings. Rilla stopped walking and gaped, open mouthed at the sights.

  “Is this your first time in Metropole?” Prince raised his eyebrows.

  Eyes wide, she nodded. “It’s breathtaking.”

  “We’re at the Kapital Plaza.” He pointed at the imposing building at the far end of the square, opposite the palace. “Over there is the Parliament Palast. It houses all the representatives from the United Kingdom of Seven. Around the back is the Lower House, which dedicates itself to the running of Clement.”

  “The building next to it looks similar,” she said.

  Prince Armin nodded. “That’s the Metropole Crown Court. All the most serious criminal cases are tried there. You might have heard about the Le Sanglier case?”

  Every time she thought about it, anger surged though her chest. She hated that certain people could get away with murder just because of their status. “It was huge scandal at home. But the papers never reported what happened after that prince got caught killing his wives.”

  “The Lord Chief Justice tried and sentenced him there. Occasionally, high profile civil cases go to trial at the Crown Court, but those are rare.”

  Rilla nodded and gazed at the next stone edifice, an old cathedral with an ornate, limestone facade, and stained glass windows. A tower loomed in each corner, its spires reaching the sky. Unlike the other buildings in the plaza, the cathedral boasted mosaic on an upper facade, depicting what looked like fairies gathered around a King. She frowned. It struck her as odd that such creatures would feature so prominently on a public building. Rilla shrugged, supposing it came from a time when Clement was at peace with the Enchanted Realms.

  The Prince smiled. “That’s the Wissenschaft Cathedral.” He pointed at an adjacent building. “And this is the Royal Infirmary.”

  Rilla baulked. “A hospital just for royalty?”

  Prince Armin chuckled and steered her around the corner. “A hospital financed by the Royal Family for the benefit of all. We hire the best surgeons, herbal scientists and alchemists to treat conditions that baffle doctors.”

  She turned to the prince and smiled. He gazed down at her, his coffee-brown eyes sparkling. They continued walking alongside the vine-covered wall until the foliage stopped at limestone posts, which stood three times as tall as Rilla. Her eyes widened at the sight of two fairy statues, standing on the posts, wielding swords and shields.

  “And here,” said Prince Armin, “is my home.”

  The iron raili
ngs were gilded in places, making it look as if golden arches existed within the five gates. Between each gate stood an iron post, just as ornately decorated, topped by huge, brilliant lanterns. Rilla blinked to adjust her vision.

  After seeing four more winged statues beyond the gates, she had to ask, “Why is there so much fairy artwork?”

  Prince Armin grinned. “That’s a history lesson for another time.”

  The guards, resplendent in their fitted, double-breasted, red jackets, bowed to the prince as they passed. Their gold buttons and epaulettes gleamed in the light. Rilla averted her gaze from their muscular thighs encased in tight, white breeches and flushed. But the lighthearted feeling drained away at the sight of their broadswords.

  All she could think of was the threat of an ax over her head, waiting to strike as unexpectedly as her magical gift.

  The Ball

  The hallways of the palace were even more vast than those at Maison Bluebeard, with marble floors, and papered walls adorned with gold-edged portraits of the Royal Family. Prince Armin called over a female servant, and after a whispered instruction, the older woman led Rilla to a powder room and helped her get clean. The servant worked swiftly and with a professional diligence Rilla had never experienced in any of the girls who helped Mother attire herself for the balls in Serotin.

  A seamstress entered, took one look at Rilla and frowned. “I’m sorry, My Lady, but we don’t stock garments for women of your stature. We will have to repair your gown.”

  Rilla nodded, not at all surprised. Being at least ten inches taller than the average woman, and with a bust Mother would describe as ‘bovine,’ it was difficult for Rilla to get clothing.