He held up the last of Rilla’s Trollsbane and drizzled it on her wrists. Nothing happened.
“I did not think you would be a troll.” He smirked. “I merely wanted to be thorough.”
The next item he pulled from the bag was grey and shimmered in the light. It was liquefied fairy iron. “You are too large.” He chuckled. “Please excuse my impolite phrasing. With the exception of the Royals, fairies and their hybrids seldom reach more than five feet in height. And you have no wings.” He poured the liquid on another part of her wrists and waited.
Apart from a warm sensation, the fairy iron had no effect. Rilla twitched, allowing the liquid to seep into the leather cuff.
Professor Engel shrugged. “As I thought. Well, that rules out shapeshifters, elves, and imps, too.”
When the Chancellor averted his gaze to pick another vial, Rilla wriggled her wrists, making sure to smear the leather with moisture. He pulled out a test tube containing a transparent liquid. His eyes gleamed in the light of the fairy hornets. “I think you are a witch.”
Rilla parted her lips to protest, but he shook his head. “Not a practicing witch, but one with enough latent power to harness it into superhuman strength, formidable reflexes and exceptional intelligence.”
“But I did really badly in my assessments.”
His face tightened. “I did not take you to be a gullible young woman.”
Rilla’s nostrils flared. So her results had been sabotaged. But now was not the time to worry about passing or failing the Academy. She tried to squirm out of the way when the Chancellor poured the Witchbane on her forearms. It was a dangerous substance, as it burned humans as much as it burned witches. Her breaths came in panic gasps, and she braced herself for searing pain.
When nothing happened, and Rilla didn’t cry out, Professor Engel’s grin faded. His shoulders slumped. “No witch, however powerful, has been unaffected by this substance. There’s only one other creature left, but you’re far too comely.”
The way he said those last words made Rilla stiffen.
From his pocked, he pulled out a familiar, horseshoe-shaped pendant.
Rilla gasped. “Where did you get—”
And pressed it in her face. From the queasy feeling in her stomach, she knew it was Jack’s necklace. Rilla glared at the Chancellor and his eyes widened.
He pulled the pendant off her and stared at it. “I see you recognize it. I purchased it from your friend, in exchange for a few drops of the water from the Well of Wellness. Apparently, his mother was fading fast.”
“And did it work?” Rilla suppressed her fury and continued moving her wrists, weakening the leather. That pendant was meant to keep Jack safe from ogres.
He waved a dismissive hand. “Of course. The mother was up on her feet minutes after, dancing a jig.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “We are moving away from the point. You are no ogre.”
“I could have told you tha—”
Professor Engel pressed a heavy stone onto her chest, making her gasp. His eyes widened. “This was not what I expected at all.”
Rilla’s heart beat hard and fast. She stopped working on the cuffs and could barely utter the words. “What do you see?”
His shoulders drooped. “Nothing. You are the same, beautiful young woman as ever.”
“What were you testing for?”
“To see if you were an enchanted troll.”
An image of Princess Olga in her shimmering silver dress flashed through Rilla’s mind. “What kind of troll is that?”
He stood straight, shoulders back, his usual posture for lecturing. “Through a combination of runic magic and alchemical advancement, trolls can extract and utilize the power of a witch. For the past twenty years, we have noticed a sharp increase in the abductions of young women in areas easily accessible from the Frozen Sea. Now, for those who know their geography—”
His nostrils flared and his face flushed an ugly puce.
Rilla froze.
“You’re trying to stall me,” he snapped. “You’re keeping me talking while you think of escape.”
A jolt of fear shot through Rilla’s insides. Sweat prickled her palms. She shook her head.
“I will not be distracted.” Spittle gathered around the corners of his mouth. “You will tell me what you are, even if I have to find out through torture.”
With a warrior cry, Rilla pulled her arms down, splaying her elbows out, and snapping the leather wrist cuff. The Chancellor gaped, unmoving, and Rilla snapped out her fist and jabbed him hard in the stomach. He doubled over, liquid spurting from his mouth. Triumph powered through Rilla, and she punched him on his temple.
Professor Engel dropped to the floor with a satisfying thud.
She picked at the ropes holding her to the table. Blood surged through her veins, making her fingers shake. Not wanting to waste time fumbling over the restraints, she flipped the table forward and stood upright. Although she felt like a turtle with the weight of the table on her back, she pulled at the ropes around her waist. They wouldn’t budge. They were too tight.
A groan from the ground alerted her of the Chancellor’s stirring, and she kicked out at the prone man. The blow landed weakly, as the rope holding her knees stopped her from putting her weight behind the attack.
“Cendrilla, please,” he moaned, crouched on his hands and knees.
Rilla pulled out her staff and swung it towards his head, but Professor Engel rolled down and out of the way. She cursed. If she could cut or burn through these ropes, she would defeat the man. Wedging the staff in the gap between the ropes and the table, she pushed out, trying to snap the restraints with brute force.
From the other side of the room, the Chancellor sprang to his feet and rushed at her. He knocked her backward, returning the autopsy table to its four-legged position. His body covered hers, his hands squeezing her throat.
“You will tell me what you are,” he hissed into her ear.
Rilla shrunk the staff and willed it to thicken, using it as a cudgel to beat him about the head.
“Tell me. Tell me!”
The more she struck, the heavier and more tired her arm became and the softer her blows. Rilla’s breath quickened along with her heart. She felt as though she’d been running uphill. She powered through her fatigue, fought the burning ache, raining ineffectual blows on the man’s head, until her arm dropped to the table. All she could do was pant like a spent racehorse.
Professor Engel climbed off Rilla and stood back, smirking. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes fixed on her neck.
That’s when she noticed the chill of a metal collar.
“What did you do?” Rilla raised a feeble hand to her neck. Her fingers met the bumps and crevices of an engraved torque. It reminded Rilla of the strange runes on her enchanted staff. The choker pulled on her fingers, as though sucking the life force out of them, and she snatched her hand away.
In the dim light, her fingers looked…wrinkled.
“Strange.” The Chancellor’s voice returned to its soft, melodic cadence. “That’s only supposed to work on draining a witch’s power. But you’re not a witch, are you?”
He stepped forward and snatched her staff.
Rilla gasped. The quarterstaff attacked everyone who touched it, but Professor Engel’s right arm did not fall to the floor. The man stood upright, as though the staff were just a piece of wood. By some kind of magical trickery, he’d stolen the staff’s loyalty from her, too.
But then, the quarterstaff expanded in his hand and he twirled the weapon, his eyes manic and his laughter filled with madness.
Rilla’s Reaction
Rilla’s heart stuttered, and she gaped at the man who was holding her enchanted weapon like it was an ordinary stick. In the dingy stone room, lit by the jars of glowing fairy hornets, he seemed crazed. She’d never thought of Professor Engel as a particularly athletic or proficient fighter, but he twirled the staff like someone who had been partnered with it for years. She raise
d a trembling arm, her finger pointed at him. “How?”
Even in the dim light, she could tell what the Chancellor had done to her. Somehow, the torque had stolen her life force. It now made sense why Bruna had looked so much older. Rilla couldn’t tell how much of her youth had been taken, but if she didn’t stop Professor Engel, she would die, and her strength and strange power would be in the hands of this twisted man.
She dropped her arm and tugged at the collar, but it stuck to her neck like a plague. Either that, or she no longer had the strength to pull it off. “Professor, wait. If you take that thing off me, I’ll tell you everything I know.”
Grinning, the Chancellor gripped the quarterstaff in one hand, stalked forward and snatched the torque from Rilla’s neck. A sweet relief spread through her body, like she’d taken Liquid Invigoration. She blinked away tears as energy flowed back into her limbs.
A flash of metal glinted under the arm of the man’s jacket. It was probably a matching bracelet to the torque, which allowed the man to receive her life-force. Rilla snapped her gaze away, not wanting him to know she’d figured anything out.
He straightened and bore his gaze into hers. “What is your real name?”
“Cendrilla Perrault. I don’t think I have a middle name.”
“Where are you from?”
“I was born in the Seven Kingdoms, I think. My guardian never talked about my origins, but the local gossips said she moved to Perrault Manor with the three of us when we were babies.”
He loomed forward, eyes narrowed. “There are three of you?”
Rilla swallowed, though it did nothing to help her dry throat. “I have twin stepsisters.”
“Oh. Gabrielle and Angelique. Are they any relation?”
Disgust roiled in Rilla’s belly. She had never mentioned their names to anyone. He must have gone to Moissan to investigate her. The man was often absent, and now she knew why. “No. They’re nothing like me.”
“Who are your parents?”
“I don’t know.”
Professor Engel scowled and placed the collar back on Rilla’s neck. The metal pulsed, sucking energy out of her in nauseating waves. “Who are your parents?”
“No one ever saw either of them.” Rilla’s voice was more sob than speech. Her muscles spasmed, and her stomach twisted under the strain. “Mother never mentioned them. Not even to insult me.”
He nodded once, snatched the collar off, and stepped back.
A cool relief spread through Rilla’s torso, allowing her shoulders to relax. “Please, don’t put it back on. I can’t think straight and my memory gets worse every time that thing touches me.” She licked dry lips. “I’ll answer your questions as truthfully as I can, but I don’t have all the information.”
“Very well,” replied Professor Engel. “How did you defeat the trolls?”
She paused. Although she had no intention of telling him the truth, she knew the Chancellor would never believe Lord Bluebeard’s story of the two of them fighting the trolls together.
Professor Engel bared his teeth and hovered the collar over her neck. “And here I thought you would be a good girl and tell me everything.”
“With that staff!” she yelled, her voice hoarse. “It’s enchanted, and I didn’t want to admit to using it.”
He twirled it, wonder gleaming in his eyes. “A fascinating weapon. It’s like none I have ever used. Right now, I feel so potent with your power. With this implement, I can defeat anyone. How did you resist using it all the time?”
“I only fight when there’s someone to protect.”
He nodded. “And you've battled Don Cipriano, the trolls, Lord Bluebeard, and various other ogre hybrids you met at the wedding in that Autumn village and the subsequent tavern and inn.”
Rilla’s eyes widened.
“Oh, yes, I researched you most thoroughly. You and the boy.”
The mention of Jack forced a bolt of anger through Rilla’s belly. It energized her and lightened her limbs. It felt as though the strong emotion was helping her reclaim her power. “What did you do to him?”
He waved his hand and peered at the runes on the staff. “Nothing. He’s safe, enjoying the company of his rejuvenated mother, serving tankards of ale and sweeping the floors of that inn…For now.”
Rilla’s nostrils flared at the implied threat. Her breath came in hard, angry bursts, and she felt more power flow back to her. How dare he? She let her outrage take her over. How dare he kidnap women and experiment on them? How dare he steal their youth! Her fists balled, the muscles in her hands tense and ready to punch. And how dare he threaten Jack! When her powers returned, she would blast him with that white light, then beat him bloody.
His gaze flickered over her body. “You are a remarkable young woman, Cendrilla. So intelligent, strong, beautiful. I can see why you’re the latest fascination in town.”
She gritted her teeth. No one, apart from Jack had given her such compliments, and the thought of Professor Engel thinking of her in that way made her want to vomit.
“I can see why Lord Bluebeard is so enamored of you.” The man stepped closer, and leaned over Rilla, his eyes on her lips.
A white-hot anger suffused Rilla’s body. Her eyes bulged. Was he going to kiss her while she was too weak to defend herself? Not even a scoundrel like Lord Bluebeard would stoop so low.
Professor Engel’s fingertips trailed over the skin of her bare arm, causing shudders to run over her skin. The man closed his eyes and lowered his face to hers, his thin lips puckered.
With all the strength she had reclaimed, Rilla shot her arms out and gripped his head. The man’s scalp was dry, his hair like straw, his skin as clammy as a leg of pork, but she held on. She would not let the disgusting fiend near her.
Professor Engel leaned forward, putting his weight on her arms. Her biceps strained and shook from the effort of keeping him away. His face came closer, bringing with it breath rank with pickled fish. Her arms would fail any second. She was too weak to hold him back. Still clutching his head, she turned her head away from his lips and shrieked.
Seconds later, the air filled with the Chancellor’s screams.
But there was no bright light. No twitter of a bluebird.
Rilla turned to see who had saved her, but no one stood over Professor Engel. The man himself bent over her, his face a rictus of pain.
“Please, Cendrilla. Stop.” His tears fell on her neck.
She frowned but did not let go. There were no clues on his face and apart from her hands clutching his head, so she could not see what she was doing to him. But then, she noticed her thumbnails. They were longer, a pearlescent white, and piercing his skin. Twitching her fingers had no effect. All her nails had embedded themselves in the man’s skull.
Rilla gasped. Her arms slackened, and Professor Engel’s head fell on her chest.
He cried and writhed, trying to get out of her grip. Rilla pulled her fingers away, but the nails fused to the professor’s head.
“I beg you. Please, stop it. I’m sorry!” His head thrashed against her chest and he beat uselessly on her arms.
“I don’t know how,” she yelled.
“What do you want from me? A boon? You have it.”
Rilla shoved the man off her chest. Color leeched out of his hair. His skin glowed crimson, his eyes bulged and the veins on his temple pulsed. “I, Steben Engel, fifth son of the Earl of Gewitter.” The man’s voice shook. “Grant Cendrilla Perrault of Serotin… a-any, anything she asks, any b-boons of her choosing.”
When drool spilled from his reddened lips, Rilla threw him off in disgust, and her nails shrunk back to their usual stubs. Both man and staff clattered to the floor.
Rilla yanked on the ropes, breaking them with ease. She sucked in a breath and stared at her hands. They looked as young and strong as ever, but she felt…more. Her strange fingernail power had probably taken the Professor Engel’s life force, plus whatever he had stolen from the other women and Bruna.
&n
bsp; She jolted off the table. Bruna!
Rilla stepped over the gibbering old man and ran out to the hallway. Bruna lay face-down on the ground. Her ribcage rose and fell, making Rilla slump in relief. She picked up her friend and stared at her aged face.
“I’ll find a way to get you back to normal,” she whispered to her unconscious friend. “This time, I won’t let you down.”
A muffled tweet interrupted her thoughts. Lord Bluebeard. Her betrothed was anxious to get her out of the Academy and desperate to marry her. Was it because of the power she held? She thought about how only he and she were able to see the troll at the ball. Perhaps Lord Bluebeard had noticed something different about her all those years ago when he spotted her in the Moissan marketplace. The man reminded Rilla of the Tinder King, who married Millissa because he thought she could make gold. The next time her betrothed turned up, she would ask him what he knew.
She wrapped her arms around Bruna and snorted. With this new power boost, she would never have to worry about Lord Bluebeard trying to abduct her.
Rilla made her way through the wide, stone vestibule, ignoring the open cells with their broken chains. After having experienced less than an hour of the testing room, she could not bear thinking about these women who might have been stuck in this underground dungeon for months.
A deep moan echoed through the space. Rilla sneered. Professor Engel was still alive. She strode to the steps and took them two at a time. At the second moan, she paused. Sharp fingernails of guilt twanged at the strings of her conscience. If she left him here, he would starve to death, but taking him back would mean he would get medical attention and perhaps face justice.
“Cendrill…” said the man.
Rilla bristled. How many women had he killed in his experiments? Where was Marie-Ann’s mother? He didn’t deserve to be rescued. Rilla’s stomach flipped. But on the other hand, she had no right to be his executioner. And with his boon protecting her, she could stop him from sharing any information that could get others, including her, harmed.
She walked back to the room, still carrying her friend. Her satchel lay on the stone floor, its contents strewn.
The Academy (Perrault Chronicles Book 2) Page 20
