Rebel Rose, page 28
He was deathly calm when he spoke. “When I leave here, Cousin, I will endeavor to forget you.” He stepped closer to the cell. “When I become worthy of the crown you thrust upon me in the hopes that it would be my end, it will not be because of your efforts.” He paused and let the words settle between them. “Your legacy is nothing but ash and ruin, and your greatest punishment will be never witnessing Aveyon grow into the kingdom it should be, the one you imagined it could be. Pity for you that such things cannot be felt from inside a prison cell.”
Bastien, man of constant ploys and maneuvers, had no reply for him. Lio turned his back on his cousin and took Belle’s hand. The last expression she saw on the face of the duc de Vincennes was one of emptiness.
Darkness swallowed the cell once more, and Belle thought perhaps she understood the duc at last. She had believed him incapable of being loyal to anyone save himself, but she was wrong. Bastien was loyal to one thing above all else. Oaths sworn to his king didn’t matter; the blood he shared with Lio didn’t matter. All that mattered was furthering his cause, furthering the message of the revolution. It would have been admirable if it hadn’t taken him down the darkest path.
As they descended the stairs from Bastien’s cell, she wondered what could have been if he hadn’t been so married to violence as a method of reaching his goal. If he had come to Aveyon with a desire to work with them instead of against them, then perhaps some good could have been achieved. She knew there had been a time when Bastien would have been her ally, but he only saw her as his enemy.
Belle and Lio both knew what happened in France was a mistake on the part of the king, and they were both going to do everything in their power to make sure they didn’t make those same mistakes in Aveyon.
But Bastien couldn’t see past his own hubris, and now all he would see was the inside of a prison cell.
By the time they left the dungeon, Belle was near collapse. She hadn’t a proper sleep since leaving Lio in their bed that morning, and everything caught up with her at once. She wobbled on her feet before Lio pulled her into an alcove.
“Belle,” he said. “Are you all right?”
She hadn’t known she was holding so much pain inside her until she let herself weep in Lio’s arms, releasing the stress and woe that had followed her from Paris. But they were also tears of relief. Somehow, despite the odds stacked against them, they had survived. She cried in his arms as he rubbed her back, feeling that being able to hold her husband was a gift she should not squander. She let the last of her tears fall, soaking Lio’s shirt, feeling a great deal lighter than she had before.
“What are we going to do?” asked Lio in a whisper.
“About what?” It was a ridiculous question; she knew that.
“Everything. I don’t even know how to begin to repair the rift I made between myself and my people.”
“You have a starting point to work from,” she offered.
“And what is that?”
“In France, the National Assembly is fighting for a constitution and a two-chamber system of parliament. Louis refused until it was too late, but what if we didn’t?”
Lio mused on it for a moment. “We could get ahead of any unrest in Aveyon by simply giving our people what others have fought and bled for in France.”
“Exactly. Monarchies everywhere need to be held accountable, and the common people of the world deserve to have their voices heard. Let’s get rid of archaic French laws and establish modern ones that make sense in Aveyon.”
Lio kissed the top of her head. “I can’t imagine what this kingdom would look like if we had never met.”
Belle thought of Orella, who had set them on a path toward each other some ten years before. Belle was beginning to understand why Orella had done what she did. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made to turn the world into a better place, and while Belle could not speak for her husband, she knew in her heart that she wouldn’t have changed a thing.
A guard hurried past them, backtracking when he realized he had overlooked them. “The castle is clear, Your Majesty, but there’s been a disturbance in the gardens.”
“What’s happened?” Belle asked, expecting the worst.
He cleared his throat. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think all of Aveyon had gathered on the grounds.” They stepped past him and moved in the direction of the ballroom. “It isn’t safe, sire!” the guard called after them, but they ignored his warning.
They strode through the crowded room, ignoring the shouts of their guests. Guards flanked them on either side and prevented anyone from following them through the room.
They could hear the crowd before they set foot on the balcony.
“Should we wait? Do they sound angry?” asked Belle.
Lio shook his head. “I refuse to fear my own people.”
They took each other’s hands and stepped out. The sun was only beginning to rise on a new day, painting the castle grounds in a pale light. The crowd surged and shouted, but it wasn’t until Belle and Lio went right up to the railing that the shouts gave over to cheers. There had to be thousands of people below them, drawn to the castle as news of the assassination attempt trickled through Aveyon’s villages and towns.
Lio waved down at them and turned to Belle. “There’s nothing like an assassination attempt to endear a king to his people, no matter how much of an ass he’s been.”
Belle laughed at him and waved down too. Before long, chants of “Vive le roi” spread out over the crowd, reaching them with the force of a wave at high tide. Lio tightened his grip on her hand, and Belle’s heart grew. Right now, the cheers and chants were an almost involuntary reaction to seeing their king, but soon the people of Aveyon would know what they had decided that night, hidden in a dark alcove. Soon Lio would earn those cheers, proving them right, and Belle couldn’t wait for the rest of her kingdom to know how worthy he was of them.
But then a curious thing happened. The chant transformed, slowly at first, fractured over the many thousands of people, but it became clear soon enough.
“Vive la reine!”
“Vive la reine!”
“Vive la reine!”
Lio looked over to Belle, perhaps expecting her to recoil from the chant. But if anything, she found she didn’t chafe against the title like she once had. Belle was beginning to understand that becoming a queen wasn’t just putting a crown on her head—it was a tool that could be used to make the lives of her people better. It was not something she needed to fear; it was something she could embrace and make her own.
She squeezed his hand but said nothing, and Lio seemed to understand.
Belle had come a long way from her desire to leave Aveyon behind forever in search of adventure like those she had read about in her books. Now she understood that adventure didn’t have to mean chasing endless horizons. Adventure could be gathering brilliant minds like Marguerite and her father and others to her court so they could challenge her. Adventure could mean traveling to every corner of her kingdom and meeting people from all walks of life in order to learn from them. Adventure could be working to make her kingdom a better place for everyone in it, with the man she loved by her side.
She leaned in to whisper in Lio’s ear. “The people of Aveyon seem willing to give us another chance. Let’s not waste it, shall we?”
Belle didn’t grow up wanting or wishing for a crown.
In all her dreams, she left the kingdom she was born in far behind her, chasing adventure on an endless horizon. Aveyon had always been too small for her, too married to tradition, too quiet. It took leaving it to realize how very wrong she had been. Now she was to be its queen.
The sun shone through the stained-glass windows of the eastern wall and painted the throne room with color. It was a stark contrast to the first time she had set foot in it, back when it was filled with a decade’s worth of dust and decay. But like everything else in the castle, a broken curse had restored it to its former glory in the blink of an eye. Each soul within the castle walls had been similarly transformed, forged by the fires of Orella’s ancient magic into something stronger than they were before. Belle was different now too, changed from the poor, provincial girl she had once been to a queen in her own right.
She stood tall in a gown as golden as the sun. It hearkened back to the dress she had worn the night she dined and danced with the Beast, when he had shown her a vision of her father and let her go to him, despite the fact that leaving meant an eternity as a monster. It was hard to understand how much had changed since then, and how far they had come.
Even though she couldn’t see them, she felt hundreds of eyes pressing into her back. Her heart was a steady drumbeat against her ribs as she repeated the words that would make her queen.
“I swear to serve the kingdom of Aveyon and to govern its people in accordance with its laws and customs.”
They were the same words she had written with Lio a few months before, on the eve of his own coronation. So much had changed since then. It had only been a few weeks since Lio had ratified Aveyon’s first constitution, cementing in place the inalienable rights of every citizen of their kingdom. Soon, elections would be under way to choose representatives from every town, village, and hamlet that would make up Aveyon’s first parliament. And the cataloging of Belle’s library was almost complete, with Marguerite and Cogsworth overseeing the necessary preparations to open it to all of Aveyon.
“I swear to perform my duty faithfully and to uphold justice and mercy in all of my judgments.”
The bishop anointed her forehead with oil and murmured a prayer as attendants presented him with the crown he was to place on her head. It was a simple gold diadem inlaid with small rubies that had once belonged to Lio’s mother. Belle’s husband had offered to have one made for her, but she insisted on wearing Delphine’s, knowing it meant a great deal more to him that she would be wearing the same crown his mother once did. Maurice had arrived home from his travels just in time to present her with a piece of gold used as a conductor in one of his old inventions, now braided along the base of the crown. Her father had sacrificed so much to make sure Belle had more opportunities than he did, and the crown meant more to her now that it had a piece of her father in it. “I’d like to see anyone call you odd now,” he’d whispered to her just before she walked the length of the throne room to the dais. She’d let him think she was somehow changed from that funny girl she used to be, but she knew better.
The bishop placed the crown upon her head as she spoke the final words of her oath.
“I swear my allegiance to Aveyon, above all else.”
The room seemed to hold its breath as the bishop announced her.
“Long live Belle, queen of Aveyon!”
The crowd roared to life as she turned and looked out to find her father in the sea of people. He and Mrs. Potts were holding each other up, both with tears streaming down their faces. Chip looked up between them in amused bewilderment. Cogsworth stood next to them, a look of unrestrained pride on his face, and Lumière to his left, weeping like a babe. Marguerite stood with Aurelian and Hercule, the three of them beaming up at her. Belle’s heart swelled at the sight of her family, the one she was born into and the one she had made for herself. Belle and Lio had dissolved his advisory the day after she had almost lost him to a radical, but that didn’t mean she and her husband would be ruling Aveyon on their own. They knew a kingdom was best served by a tapestry of voices and viewpoints. The future of Aveyon would not be determined by the voices of a few any longer.
“Vive la reine!” boomed the bishop, and the crowd answered just as a flurry of bloodred rose petals fell from the ceiling like rain.
Her eyes found Lio’s amid the chaos. She had fallen in love with his soul long before she knew him in this body, but the eyes were the same. He smiled at her through the petals, and she quirked a brow subtly. He shrugged and cupped his hands together to collect them. The curse had no claim over him any longer. Lio’s slumber had been undisturbed since the night they took to the balcony and promised each other they would work to make Aveyon a better place.
She could just make out a familiar figure in the back corner of the throne room, one that had followed her from a mirror shop in Paris all the way to the cellar that had become her prison. But she was not there to deliver dire warnings or visions. Belle understood now that magic did not flow through her kingdom like a swollen river; it was confined to the spirits of all the queens and female rulers who came before her, bound to Orella so she could help those in need, as Belle had been.
Belle watched as Orella faded from view like a flame extinguished, and found she didn’t feel enmity toward the enchantress any longer. Orella had done what she needed to do in order to spare Aveyon from the storm; Belle and Lio had done the rest.
She looked up at the portrait of Lio’s father and grandfather, who wore their heavy crowns like they weighed nothing at all. They were born to rule, whereas she was born to nothing. The oaths they swore were to the French crown, but her oath was to her kingdom alone.
She knew in her heart it would make her a better ruler.
And they all lived happily ever after.…
THE END
Acknowledgments
I can’t remember a part of my life without Belle.
Being that I was two years old when the movie came out, this makes sense, but it’s deeper than that too. I grew up with Belle as a sort of archetype—I felt she represented both the person I was and the person I wished to one day become. I, like countless others, saw parts of myself in her stubbornness, her empathy, her outspokenness, and her courage. Belle told us all that it’s okay to be odd, to be different, to be ourselves even when the world wishes we’d be someone else. I am so grateful to have been given the opportunity to tell a part of her story.
My first thank-you is for my tireless champion of an agent, Suzie Townsend, without whom none of this would be possible. Thank you for never letting on that my panicked emails are, indeed, as over-the-top as I suspect. Thank you to Dani Segelbaum for your assistance in all matters big and small. A big thank-you to everyone else at New Leaf who has helped me on this journey.
A gigantic thank-you to my editor, Jocelyn Davies, for taking a chance on me and for connecting so fully with my vision for this story. This book (and its author) would be utterly lost without you. Thank you to everyone at Disney Hyperion for all that they have done to bring this book to life—specifically, thank you to Cassidy Leyendecker, Kieran Viola, Emily Meehan, Jamie Alloy, Marci Senders, Guy Cunningham, Sara Liebling, Lyssa Hurvitz, Melissa Lee, Seale Ballenger, Tim Retzlaff, Elke Villa, Dina Sherman, the entire sales team, Steve Borell, Lauren Burniac, and Alison Giordano.
I would be nowhere without the writing friends I have made along the way. Thank you to my VIPs: Alexa Donne, Emily Duncan, Rosiee Thor, Rory Power, Christine Lynn Herman, June Tan, Kevin Van Whye, and Deeba Zargarpur. Special thanks to Rory and Christine for the sprints that got this book written. Thanks to my sub crew: Hannah Whitten, Tori Bovalino, and Jessica Bibi Cooper. Thank you to my AMMFam, but most specifically to Leanne Schwartz. Huge thanks to my ride-or-dies: Suzie Samin and Brendon Zatirka. Big thanks to Kelsey Rodkey, Kat Dunn, Dante Medema, and Rachel Griffin for always being supportive in the DMs. Innumerable thanks to Alwyn Hamilton for being here since the day she helped me write my query. Massive thanks to Elizabeth Lim and Alexandra Bracken for their support and advice. To my gorgeous agent sisters: Laura Steven and Claribel Ortega, thank you for always inspiring me. And special shout-out to my pal/mushroom/American twin Victoria Aveyard for putting up with me since 2013.
Thank you to my friends Tarek, Kerstin, Carrie, Jon, Steve, Michelle, Ted, Jennifer, Brandon, Celeste, Emma, and Max for your enthusiasm and attentiveness even in the face of my exhaustive explanations re: the publishing industry.
Thank you to Biz and Kelly Williams for your constant love and support over the last decade, and to the rest of the Williams family for being the best cheerleaders a girl could ask for.
Thank you to my dad and Anna for your unwavering encouragement. Thank you to Uncle John and Tee Wei for your love, felt all the way from Australia.
Thank you to Lauren and Wade for never failing to remind me what a tyrant of an older sister I was in our youth. Love you both so much.
Huge thanks to my mom for believing in me from day one and for rewarding every single one of my accomplishments with a trip to the bookstore.
Thank you to Byron, the bacon to my eggs. My books wouldn’t get written without you in my corner. Thanks for being the world’s best cat dad to Harriet and Gatsby. (And thank you, H & G, for being the world’s greatest cats, period.)
Lastly, my biggest thanks are for you, reader. Books are just words on a page until someone decides to read them. Thank you for choosing to read mine.
EMMA THERIAULT was born and raised in Ottawa, the capital city of Canada, and thus has a penchant for Gothic Revival architecture and a constant craving for BeaverTails. She has been everything from an enthusiastic bookseller (who once sold a book to Prime Minister Trudeau) to a purveyor of white-water rafting adventures in the Interior of British Columbia. When not writing books about curses and blood magic, she can be found eating burritos, hiking with her boyfriend, or cuddling with her cats, Gatsby and Harriet. You can follow her on Twitter @eltheriault.
Emma Theriault, Rebel Rose
