Page 5 of The Bargain

My Spearcrest 7th Year Goals — Desdemona Sutton-Knight

1. Maintain Head Girl position with exemplary conduct.

2. Secure required grades for Harvard Law early decision DART programme.

3. Support the twins with their final year in Lower School.

4. Schedule weekly check-ins with Ophelia.

5. Limit distractions. No regrets. No mistakes.

They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, but I believe there’s nothing wrong with holding yourself up to a high standard.

Only—you better make sure you don’t slip, because the higher you hold yourself, the harder the fall.

Austen and William are identical twins; most people can’t tell them apart. But it doesn’t matter what they’re wearing or doing or saying. I can always tell them apart.

My voice comes out like the cracking of a whip.

“Austen! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Where have you been?” Austen stops dragging me through the trees and stares up at me through messy dark hair, eyes wide and wild. “Shit, Dess, something’s happened, something really⁠—”

“Where’s William?”

“He…” Austen’s eyes flicker to the side. He shakes his head, catching his breath. “We⁠—”

I shove past him. William is slumped on the mossy ground with his head hanging low and his arms propped over his knees. It’s dark out in the arboretum: the trees are still heavy with leaves that are barely just turning gold. The starlight is too weak to filter through the clouds or the dense canopy.

But I can see the blood clear as day.

I rush to William and drop to my knees, ignoring the cold and damp seeping through my dress. Grabbing his face in my hands, I force him to look up: his skin is warm and wet.

I glance at my fingers. They’re smeared in blood.

Earlier, on the tennis court, I felt like a mobile, living thing, with no distinction between my mind and my limbs. Now, it’s the exact opposite: my body stiff and distant, like unwieldy machinery.

“Are you hurt?”

My voice comes out cold and sharp.

William meets my gaze. I see Dad’s eyes in his face and my heart lurches painfully. If Dad were here, he’d know what to do. But if Dad were here, none of this would be happening in the first place.

“He’s fine, he’s fine,” Austen is saying, “but we’re in trouble, Dess, we’re in so much fucking trouble.”

He’s holding onto my arms with both hands, his grip strong from spending too much time in the gym and not enough time developing common sense.

“Whose blood is that?” I ask, still looking at William.

William’s eyes glint in the darkness. “Birnam’s.”

I stare at him, speechless with surprise.

Birnam Hastings has been friends with my brothers since they all started Spearcrest. They’re in the same classes, go to the same parties, even go on holidays together.

I’ve never known them to argue or fall out. My brothers’ friendships have never seemed deep enough for anything as complex as a falling out. Most importantly—Birnam’s family is old, rich and powerful. He’s not the kind of person you want for an enemy.

So why is William’s face covered in his blood?