Dawn of Destiny (The Warrior Angels Trilogy - Book 1)

Chapter Seventeen

Beatrice placed her elbow on the iron railing and nestled her head in her palm. The sky was illuminated in the heavenly lights, and she smiled, finally feeling at ease.

She had escaped the bustling of the celebration downstairs a moment ago. Goodness, she had assumed it would have been incredible, but she wanted to leave the second it had begun. Too many people she didn't care for talking about everything she had no interest in. Nobody had even cared to compliment her gown. She glanced down at the jewels sparkling beneath the rays of light, and she shook her head. What a dreadful shame.

"Pardon me," someone spoke from behind, and her heart leaped. She whirled around, locking eyes with Luc.

"I am looking for my sweetheart. Do you happen to know where she may be?" Luc grinned at her.

Beatrice rolled her eyes, yet the twitch of her lips betrayed her. "What took you so long?"

"My apologies." He strode toward her. "My mother insisted that I ask Samoa for a dance."

Beatrice hoped her irritation wasn't evident as she forcefully smiled wider. "Oh, that's wonderful. Samoa is the best dancer I know."

Luc reached out and took her hands into his. He rubbed her knuckles with his thumb, and Beatrice relaxed at the gesture.

"I do not care if she is a wonderful dancer," he said, "because she is not you." He pulled her in closer, and she met him in a feverish kiss. 

Beatrice freed her hands from his and wrapped her arms around his neck. He abruptly pulled back, and she groaned.

"Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?" he asked.

Beatrice drawled out a dramatic sigh and averted her attention to the sky. "You have not."

"Well, then, you look ravishing tonight." His hands settled just above her hips, and she smirked at him.

"Do I?"

"Absolutely. You are always beautiful. And yet, I am still amazed."

Beatrice giggled. "That is an excellent response." She leaned in again, and he captured her lips with his. She sighed into his mouth and inclined her head as he kissed along her jawline, then down to her neck.

"What is the meaning of this?" her mother's enraged voice echoed throughout the corridor.

Beatrice yelped and jumped out of Luc's arms. Luc spun around, his face the color of beets.

"Y-Your Majesty," he spewed, dropping down onto his right knee and bowing his head.

"What are you doing here, Mother?" Beatrice questioned, her hands beginning to shake. She moved them behind her back and did her best to keep her expression stern rather than humiliated.

Her mother stepped onto the balcony, staring Beatrice down with such a fury that Beatrice almost feared she would burst into flames. She then snapped her fingers at Luc and demanded to him to leave. Luc leaped to his feet and fled the scene, not bothering to even glance once at Beatrice.

Beatrice gasped and attempted to go after him, except her mother held her back, shoving her into the railing. She quickly regained her footing and pointed down the hall.

"You cannot punish him!" she begged.

"No?" Her mother raised her eyebrows. "Shall I punish you instead?"

"I"—Beatrice groaned and averted her gaze.

"Exactly what were you thinking? That is Luc Wylie. He is going to be engaged to one of your ladies."

"I am aware, Mother. However, he does not want to wed her. He... he adores me."

Her mother laughed—a condescending sound that lacked any genuine joy. Beatrice looked up at her, widening her eyes.

"Why, of course he adores you, Beatrice," she started. "You are the Princess of Aristol—the wealthiest woman in this kingdom. And Luc comes from a family who would do anything to gain higher wealth and power. You should know this. You are friends with Emilia, after all." She eyed Beatrice up and down, then shook her head. "He does not truly care for you. He only cares about what you can offer him—a chance to be king."

"I am not naïve, Mother," Beatrice countered. "I know he cares about me." Her hand instinctively went up to the pearl necklace, and her mother grabbed it, scratching Beatrice's chest in the process.

"Did he give this to you?"

Beatrice ignored the stinging from her mother's fingernails and nodded. Then she gasped when her mother yanked it from her neck. She watched as the pearls flew in different directions before scattering onto the ground.

"I expected that to be sturdier," her mother admitted, holding up the broken chain. "I suppose not even he could spare an expense for you."

"How could you?"

"Oh, do not give me that attitude, Beatrice."

"You've ruined it! You ruin everything for me!" Beatrice snatched back the chain and turned away, her vision blurring.

"Nothing would be ruined if you hadn't decided to whore around with him!"

Beatrice's breath hitched in her throat. She peered back at her mother and nearly squirmed beneath her glower.

"You think me a whore?" she asked, her voice soft.

Her mother's anger never wavered. In fact, it seemed to increase as she spoke again. "You certainly are behaving as one. Had I not known it was you, I would've assumed Lord Wylie had sneaked in one of the whores from the brothel in Lunas. I do hear he is a frequent visitor. Now then"—she stepped closer to Beatrice, "we are going to forget this little incident ever happened. There is no need for such a scandal to be released. 

"But after tonight, the engagement between him and Samoa will come to be, even if I must force them into it. Do not allow me to catch you in such a disgraceful act with him again, Beatrice. Do not test me." Her mother turned, her golden skirts flowing with her as she stormed back into the corridor. 

Beatrice slid to the ground and pushed away nearby pearls. Her breaths became short and rapid, and she clutched her chest. But she wouldn't give her mother the satisfaction of crying. She roughly wiped her eyes with her sleeves and inhaled sharply a few times until she could breathe more properly. Then she snarled into the darkness.

"If you wish to view me as a whore, Mother, then very well. I will gladly disgrace you and this infuriating name of ours." Beatrice picked herself off the ground and entered the empty hallway before releasing a wail.

Then the candle on the wall across from her ignited. And Beatrice abruptly ceased her screaming. Her breath got caught in her throat. She stayed there, gawking at it until the sounds of metal clanking against metal startled her out of her trance. She turned her head, spotting a guard turning the corner. 

"Your Highness!" the guard greeted, relief filling her tone. "I heard a scream! Are you alright?"

Beatrice looked forward at the candle again. She glanced behind her, then to her left. No one else was in sight... no one else who could have possibly lit the candle without her knowledge.

"Your... Highness?" the guard tried again, cautiously approaching.

Beatrice swallowed hard and bravely faced the woman. "Yes, I am fine, thank you." She hurried past her and did her best not to look back. Whatever had occurred there was nothing of her concern now.

She would have to forget about it. Who would even believe her if she said a candle mysteriously ignited when she started screaming?