Beatrice had been living at Chateau Mer Serreine since Rosaline had found her in the woods that day. In place of the layered skirts and raggedy shirt she wore a simple, pale blue dress with fitted sleeves and no embellishments. It was known among a few of the staff who she was and many more suspected.For the most part she kept to herself in the castle library. Beatrice read and read and read, soaking up as much knowledge as she could, same as she always had before at Glasswater. Beatrice could devour a book like few could and in the week she’d been there she’d read quite a bit.
She was in the library, late the night that the attack on her birthplace occurred. Messenger birds came in and there was a panic in the air. She closed her book and made her way to the source where she overheard everything,
The ground felt as if it disappeared beneath her and she fell to her hands and knees. Many had died but there she was selfishly praying that her family was safe.
Staring down at the floor, her eyes went wider and wider, what a fool she had been, what a lack of imagination. She had thought her greatest fear was her own death. What an idiot.
Her head span and her body fought against every movement but she forced herself up onto her feet. Her family was fighting for their lives and she had to do something. She would never reach the palace in time, the fighting would have died down by the time she did but Beatrice’s battlefield had never been war. It was what happened in the aftermath.
In the flicking light of a nearby torch she saw a faint image of herself pierced by an arrow but she looked away ashamed. She ran to the room she was staying in, she found a little dagger amongst the things she’d brought with her and stripped the bottom third of her dress before she put on a pair of breeches and riding boots and a cloak.
She made her way with a little pack to Prince Reynard’s room, she opened the door and he stirred in his bed. “Bee?” he asked as he sat up, bleary eyed.
“Your highness,” Bea said, getting down on one knee “I desperately need your help...”
The young prince, with a fair bit of sass and self importance used his authority to allow the youngest Stoneward one of the horses in the stable. She told him to tell his mother that she was alright, should she not see Rosaline first and that she was incredibly grateful for his help
She rode as long and as hard as she dared, taking a ferry across the sea to her homeland. A few days later she made it to the refugee camp, a little worn out but strong enough to help. From up on her horse on the hill, she could see the devastation the attack had wrought. A few tears streamed down her face, she wanted to look away but she knew she shouldn’t, that it would be wrong. These people, all of them, they had been hurt because of her family, because the rebels hated them.
She rode down the hill, slowly, taking it all in. She saw one of her family’s guards, sitting along the outskirts of the camp, their arm was in a sling. With her hood up and her hair and face partly covered she felt slightly more at ease as she approached.
The man looked up at her but said nothing. She dismounted and approached him slowly, holding out a hand, “H-hello sir...may I see your arm please?”
He narrowed his eyes, “I don’t know, can you?” he challenged.
She blushed, “yes, well, um...what I mean is, may I touch it?”
He shrugged, “be my guest, may as well before they lop it off,” he muttered, looking away from her.
Bea stepped closer and knelt next to him, she closed her eyes to see it, the warm light that glowed where there should be darkness. It flooded her body up to her finger tips. She reached out and placed a hand on his elbow and another on his wrist. She imagined it, the bones mending, the muscles coming back together, the bleeding stopping. Be well...Be well.
When she opened her eyes she saw the faint glow from her hands fade. She was a little winded, when she looked up she saw the guards wide eyes. “Who are you?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m-” she began but then she felt a hand on her shoulder. “Eep!” she gasped, she turned sharply and as she did, the hood of her cloak slipped off and she was face to unobscured face with the owner of that hand...
