Page 26 of Deposed

“I know that now, but why did I have to suffer so much? Why did you let them inject me a second time?”

The limo reached the ground floor and drove out of the low exit into the store-lined street. I kept my gaze on Henry and away from the people outside, bustling from store to store.

He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Paul… Mr. Frost said I had to keep everything as authentic as possible, so you wouldn’t guess it had all been a setup.”

“And you went along with his plan?”

Henry straightened and raised his blond brows in a look so incredulous, I wondered if I had said something wrong. Eventually, he said, “If I’d told you the truth, you might have gone to the police anyway as revenge for all those pranks the others played.”

I snatched my gaze away and stared out of the window. He had a point, but I wasn’t going to admit it. The limo rounded Piccadilly Circus. First, we passed the kind of giant, neon signs found in places like Times Square, then moments later, we had a magnificent view of a winged statue with beautiful Georgian buildings in the background. “Is that Eros?”

“It’s his brother, Anteros. Some say he’s the avenger of unrequited love,” Henry replied with a bite to his voice.

The implication hit me in the gut. He thought my shitty attitude was getting in the way of what he wanted. My nostrils flared, and I glared at him through the corner of my eye. “What would he say about love formed under false pretenses?” Before he could speak, I added, “Where were you that time you went missing for a whole day and returned smelling of marijuana?”

He turned away, and adrenaline surged through my veins. If I had to guess, Henry had been relaxing with the kidnappers over takeout and a joint. Probably taking the time to call Edward and Blake to form part two of their plan to buy my silence with affection. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Mr. Frost had come down to work out the finer details of how to frame me if everything went wrong.

“I don’t know how to make a convincing enough apology to you,” he said in a broken voice. “Isn’t it enough that I’ve been disinherited and pictures of Blake and me are floating about the internet?”

All the anger drained out of me, replaced by emptiness. Perhaps it was time to let go of past hurts.

We returned to Elder House in time for the end of dinner. Charlotte toured the dining room like a circling vulture, swooping down on tables to have whispered conversations with each member of the rugby team.

“Why are they all so fond of her?” I asked Henry.

“We called her Butter Face behind her back,” he said. “Nice tits, but her face was lacking. I can’t think of a reason they’d follow her unless she’s offering blow jobs.”

I shot him a glare, but he shrugged. “When we returned from our… absence, they were still talking about Blake’s video.”

I shook my head, got out of my seat and walked toward Duncan’s table. The scrawny boy would have an idea of what was really happening. Not even Charlotte would offer to blow the entire rugby team. Double standards meant that actions like that invariably backfired on the girl, and some of the players, like Coates and his cauliflower ears, were gross. Duncan sat alone, picking at his rhubarb crumble and custard while leafing through his pile of newspapers.

“Is this seat taken?” I asked.

Duncan’s gaze flicked up over his thick glasses, and his lips quirked with distaste. Probably because I’d gotten Miss Oakley to confiscate his smartphone containing stills from Henry and Blake’s sex tape. “Oh, it’s you.”

That hadn’t been a no, so I slipped into the seat next to him. “Why did Alice go back to that group?”

“Changes are taking place within Elder House.” Duncan flipped open his copy of The Mail on Sunday and leafed through the tabloid’s pages. “Think of it as a paradigm shift. Old gods have fallen and new ones are taking their place. Just as you sat with those tossers last term for protection, Alice has joined Charlotte’s team to avoid becoming the victim of the upcoming bloodbath.”

I glanced up at Charlotte, who wrapped her arms around one of Coates’ battered-looking rugby friends. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t say, but it’s revolutionary.”

My eyes narrowed. “Can’t or won’t?”

“Won’t. The destabilization has been good for me. I finally have cool friends instead of being an outcast.”

I glanced around his empty table. If this was his definition of having friends, there wasn’t much point in continuing the conversation. “Thanks. I won’t trouble you any longer.”

As I walked back to the triumvirate through the maze of dining tables, tremors of dread shook the lining of my stomach. No matter what I thought of Charlotte, she was resourceful. That painful and humiliating walk through the gauntlet had been of her design, and she’d even whored herself to Mr. Carbuncle to make it happen. If she was planning a move against me, I had to be extra vigilant.

I reached the table and retook my seat, reporting back that Duncan hadn’t said anything useful except for vague hints of Charlotte’s plans. A server slid a bowl of rhubarb crumble with cream at my place setting, and I stared into my pudding. If anyone would know what Charlotte had been saying to her supporters, it would be the people at the Saturday Correspondent. Perhaps it was time to power up the burner phone I used to communicate with Jackie.

* * *

The next day, our new Latin Master noticed I wasn’t doing any of the work. When I explained that I didn’t know anything about the language, he sent me out of the class. Taking advantage of the time away from the triumvirate, I rushed to my room, sat on the edge of the bathtub, and called Jackie on the burner phone.

“Emilia!” she rasped. “Have you decided to work with us?”