The Crown

Chapter Twelve

Beatrice awoke from a nightmare panting, her hands sweaty. She threw the covers off of her body and embraced the cold breeze rushing through her room. She brought her knees to her chest and rested her chin against them. Her arms wrapped around her legs and she closed her eyes, trying to recuperate her battered breath.

She stood from her bed, slipped into her slippers, and walked into the bathroom. As she stared back in the mirror, her nightmare came back to her in broken pieces. 

It was a dark room, except for the faint candlelight in the middle of the room.

The cool shower ran as she stripped her clothes off of her. Slowly, she stepped in the tub, standing in front of the water as it hit her face and hair. She caressed her blonde hair, leaning against the wall tiles.

When she was finished, she wrapped a towel around her body and stood in front of the faucet. She turned the water on, splashing her face with water before brushing her teeth and hair.

She walked towards it, her hand outstretched to the flame.

Since she had the day off, Beatrice opened the last drawer in her dresser and reached to the back of it. She took out her only different clothes – a black onesie – that was given to her by Tori a couple of days prior. 

It was, apparently, her training clothes - which she was strictly told to wear during training.

She looked at the clock and saw that it was almost time for breakfast. She exited her bedroom and spotted Will and Christina leaving the bedroom across from hers. They were kissing and giggling, and something in Beatrice felt sad again; she missed Tobias.

The flame sparked up and turned big as she backed away, tripping on a crack in the floor and falling.

Beatrice walked away from the scene in front of her and toward the cafeteria. She grabbed a plate and her food before walking to Tori's table. She sat across from her, who chose to ignore Beatrice blatantly, biting into her crust.

Consumed in silence, Beatrice leaned in slowly. "Are you going to the training arena today?" 

Tori glanced up at her with furrowed brows. "Are you insane?"

Beatrice leaned back, shocked at her sudden hostility. 

"Can you fathom how reckless it is to be speaking to me about these things unless we are in the security of the arena?" She scoffed and shook her head. "Amature."

"It may come off as a shock but I have never been involved in this sort of thing before," she snapped back. 

Tori rolled her eyes. "Did you manage to retrieve any information while cleaning this week?"

She twiddled her fingers and shook her head. "The prince chooses to keep quiet about his affairs."

She sighed. "I am aware of how stubborn he is; the handmaidens told us that he sent them away once the conversation between him and his mother got heated. He does not enjoy having an audience."

Beatrice contemplated disclosing that she knew the prince and his father were not on speaking terms. The night we spent together now puts a damper on the information I promised Tori and Matthew, she thought quietly, stirring her food. 

With a deep breath, she glanced up at Tori. "The prince and his father are not speaking. I do not think the prince will be able to obtain any concrete information any time soon."

Tori groaned, setting her toast down. "Damn; I was really counting on that. I mean, it isn't like the queen is much help; she's always passed out drunk forgetting the events of that day," she scoffed. "What a deranged family."