Shadows of Demise (The Warrior Angels Trilogy - Book 3)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Beatrice entered the dining hall and halted in her tracks when she noticed her parents sitting together. Her mother looked up first and scowled. Her father must've realized who'd entered by that reaction, because his eyes softened, and his frown deepened.

"Ah, you've returned," her mother said.

"I have," Beatrice responded, walking up to the high table. "I see you're all still doing well here. The kingdom did not crumble while I was away."

"That does not mean you should have left." Her mother rose from her chair and sharply inhaled through her nose. "What purpose did you serve going to visit the Ward family?"

"I thought you would be pleased that Luc came with me."

Her mother chuckled dryly as she shook her head. "I am equally as disappointed in him as I am in you."

"I am not a child anymore, Mother."

"Yet you are behaving as you always have."

Beatrice blinked slowly. Then she furrowed her eyebrows. "There is truly no satisfying you, is there? I did everything you asked of me these past five years, but deciding to take one day for myself is a crime beyond repair."

Finally, her father raised his head, and he sighed. "In these times, Beatrice, the wisest decision would be to stay—"

"No." Beatrice squinted at him. "What would you even know about anything?"

Her mother gaped at her. "Do not speak so disrespectfully to your father!"

"Now you suddenly care for him, Mother?" Beatrice snickered. "Neither of you ever believed I would make a good queen. I am aware I'm not perfect, and I never wanted this crown. It is a burden I wouldn't wish upon anyone. However, that doesn't mean I will not try my best to protect my home. That is precisely what I am going to do tomorrow. You will not be seeing me for a long time." She turned on her heel and heard a horrific growl come from her mother, followed by a screeching chair, and then loud stomps.

Beatrice considered teleporting away, revealing to her mother that she'd never been cured. She didn't want to be either. Before she could go through with it, her mother snatched her arm, digging her fingernails deep into Beatrice's skin. And Beatrice cried out as her mother yanked her back around.

"You are right," her mother started. "I always knew you would be such an embarrassment to this family."

"I am only an embarrassment because I refuse to be your perfect little pet!" Beatrice attempted to pull herself free, but her mother grabbed on even tighter. "Let me go!"

"You will not be going anywhere with Ashton Ward anymore," her mother spat. "Do you understand me? You are to stay away from him!"

Beatrice hissed through her teeth and then snarled at her mother. "Why do you harbor such hatred for him? What has he ever done to you to deserve this?"

Her mother smirked, pulling Beatrice even closer. "If only you knew who he is, Beatrice. If only you were wise enough to be careful with who you trust."

"Ashton is a good man."

"A good man?" Her mother laughed. "He is nothing but a disgrace—as you are."

"That is enough, Anne!" Her father chimed in, standing so abruptly that his chair nearly fell over.

"Oh, do not start. You have no obligation to her, even as her father. She would have us both hanged if she pleased. She has no heart." Her mother leaned in, and Beatrice grimaced when she felt her warm breath on her face. "She has no soul."

Beatrice blinked and swallowed hard. "Why do you despise me so much? It is not my fault that I was born."

Her mother lifted her eyebrows innocently and smiled. "I never wanted you. I was expected to have a child, and so I did. Truly, Beatrice, I did adore you when you were younger. You were... so small and naïve. And then you grew older and became a nuisance. Now you are simply getting in the way of what I want." She released Beatrice, shoving her aside.

Beatrice caught herself on a nearby chair and stayed there, hunched over and breathing heavily.

"As with every man, Ashton Ward would only want you because you are still the whore you've always been. No one could ever really love you, Beatrice. I don't believe you even love yourself."

"Do not say that," her father scolded. "She is still our daughter, Anne!"

Beatrice clutched the chair and peered back at her mother. "When this war is over..." she paused, taking a deep breath. "When this war is over, you will regret everything you've just said to me. I promise you that." She stumbled toward the doors, her arm throbbing as though she'd been scratched mercilessly by a cat. She kept hearing her father call out to her and yell at her mother for being so cruel. But she didn't stop walking until she made it out of the great hall.

Beatrice made it halfway down the corridor before she gave in to her weak knees and fell onto them.

She could admit she was not a great child. She played too much and laughed as she made others miserable with her tricks. Did that honestly make her a nuisance? She'd been a child.

She could admit she'd played with men as well. Yet she couldn't help how she had felt for them. Did that honestly make her a whore? She'd never been with them all at once!

So, Beatrice was not perfect. She once would've claimed to be and would've smiled as she said it. She was aware she wasn't, though. Never was and never would be. And that was her fault. She'd chosen to live against the rules placed upon her rather than a dull life of pure obedience.

Would she take it all back in hopes of regaining some affection from her own mother?

Beatrice wiped the corners of her eyes and wrinkled her nose.

No, she wouldn't.

She forced herself back onto her feet and checked her surroundings before teleporting to her bedchamber.

"I don't regret anything," Beatrice said as she paced in front of her desk. "I know my mistakes and I own them. Shame on me indeed, and I no longer care." She walked over to her looking glass and glared at her reflection.

No one could ever really love you, Beatrice.

She heard a noise near her window, and she relaxed her shoulders.

"It amuses me how you still sneak in through the window, Mar," she said. "You could teleport directly in here without that bother."

"But then I wouldn't have been able to fool you so easily just now," someone else answered.

Beatrice caught Julian behind her, smiling at her through the glass, and she froze.

"I've heard you've been looking for me," he said. "Did you miss me?"

"You are a fool if you believe I'm letting you leave here alive," she said, curling her fingers into her palms. "I have been looking for you, Julian. Five years... five years you've been a coward hiding from me. Now it is my turn to make you suffer—" she flinched when he suddenly appeared right behind her.

Then he grabbed her tightly and held a purple rag to her face. Beatrice screamed into it, yet her head became light as she breathed in the strange herbal aroma emitting from it.

"I know you were hoping to be glorious and burn me alive the moment you saw me," Julian whispered into her ear. "But I have other plans, and I need you for them."

Beatrice closed her mouth and blinked slowly. Julian removed the rag and stared at her through the glass again. Her vision blurred, allowing her only a glimpse of his grin.

"I missed you," he said. "It's so nice to have you in my arms again."

"I... will... kill you," Beatrice managed before closing her eyes.

His voice sounded muffled to her as he whispered one more thing.

"I know."