Page 9 of Deposed

He turned the handle and opened the door to his study, revealing an interior darkened by drawn curtains. Leather and coffee and firewood mingled to provide a familiar scent that reminded me of happier times I’d spent in this room. The flames crackling in the fireplace provided illumination, bolstered by two Anglepoise lamps shining on Edward’s leather desk. Blake and Henry sat in separate, leather armchairs, each staring up at me with accusing eyes.

Henry was the first to stand. The light of the fire lit the ends of his blond hair, making them appear incandescent. One side of his face was cast in shadow. He stared down at me with the same look he had given me in the early days, like he wanted to dissect me and discover what was inside. Perhaps he did. This was the first time I’d seen him since Mr. Frost’s story about the kidnapping had come out.

I lifted my head and tried to meet his eyes, but his gaze was fixed on a spot on my cheek. My heart sank. I had expected shouting. Recriminations, so I could spit out my side of the story and justify my actions, but he remained silent.

Blake pushed himself off his armchair and stood at Henry’s left. The ends of his black hair merged with the shadows in the room, making each feature stand out. Dim light exaggerated cheekbones that could slice me in half and a cruel, and showcased a downward slant to his full lips. Once again, my gaze flickered up to meet his eyes, but met expressionless pools of black.

The silence stretched on, each passing moment wringing my guts. From his position by the door, Edward walked around me and stood at Henry’s right in the exact formation I’d seen them when we had first met in the first term, on the stairs of the main teaching block. I swallowed hard. “W-what do you want from me?”

“We know why you did it,” replied Blake, his voice curling around my senses like smoke. His dark eyes hardened. “But you should understand that no slight against us goes unpunished.”

My heart rate doubled, and I gasped out a breath of disbelief. “But we’re even. Can’t you see that?”

Edward chuckled, a rich, deep sound that promised vengeance. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “Why did you come back after what you and your stepfather did?”

I stepped back. “Y-you sent me texts…”

He advanced on me, filling my vision with his cruel, handsome face. “Then I commend you for your obedience.”

My gaze flickered to Henry’s face. His nostrils had flared, the skin around his green eyes tightened with pain. My throat flexed. He was staring at me as though I had stabbed him in the gut.

I could understand Edward and Blake’s animosity. I’d directly encouraged them to incriminate themselves. It was my manipulative words that had goaded Blake into talking treason about the Prince of Wales in front of the cameras, and my manipulation of Edward’s worries that had led him to answer leading questions about International House in front of the cameras. I’d even tricked Edward into handing over vital evidence that had gotten the headmaster and his father arrested.

But I hadn’t done anything to Henry. I hadn’t coerced Mr. Frost into making a full confession about helping the triumvirate to extort half a million pounds from the Bourneville family by kidnapping Henry.

“You’ve got a nerve to glare at me like that,” I spat.

“Was it your idea to release pictures of Blake and me on the internet?” he asked.

My stomach dropped. “What?”

Henry stalked toward me. “Rudolph Trommel visited my parents with a very interesting video clip from that Valentine’s party.”

I clapped my hand over my mouth to hide a gasp. Henry and Blake had drunk so much champagne that night. And because of me, they had taken a high thujone absinthe, which had stripped their inhibitions.

What had started with them pinning me to the bed and smothering me with kisses had ended with them kissing and groping each other in front of the hidden camera. All because I’d left them to prompt Blake into talking about International House in front of the balcony camera.

“Why would Rudolph show your parents?” I asked.

“He wanted a refund of the million he paid them to drop the charges against you.” Henry clenched his teeth. “With interest. When Mother and Father refused, he released stills on the internet.”

“Oh.” I glanced away and fixed my gaze on a swirling pattern on the Persian rug. “He blackmailed them.”

“Don’t pretend you didn't know about it,” spat Blake. “Thanks to you, Henry’s mother showed them to mine.”

My feet shuffled back on their own accord. “I-I’m sorry. But I didn’t shoot or release that video.”

“What about the interview with an anonymous public school bully?” asked Blake. “It was a repeat of everything I told you on the balcony, twisted to make me look like a bigot.”

My mouth dropped open. That was exactly what Jackie had done with the article.

“Don’t even deny it.” Harsh, guttural bitterness laced Henry’s words. “You had that room set up to entrap us. No one else but you could have worked with the Correspondent on that night.”

I could deny it, but the evidence proving my guilt was overwhelming. The heat in Henry and Blake’s glares made my stomach curdle with a sense of impending doom. Every ounce of moisture in my mouth vanished and reappeared on my hairline. It was bad enough to take the blame for things I had done, but devastating to have them think I’d been involved with the distribution of Henry and Blake’s sex tape.

A tiny cough forced its way out of the back of my throat. “You have to believe me. I would never—”

“Stop lying!” Henry bellowed.