Page 42 of Savage Elites

“Nothing,” said Sebastian.

Leopold’s brows rose. “Whatever could you mean, Willow?”

I narrowed my eyes at the mocking tone. From the way Leopold glared at Sebastian, I was guessing the comment was directed at him.

“Go on,” said Prakash. “We’ll wait here and walk you wherever you’re going next.”

Miss Claymore packed up her things and strode up the other end of the lecture theater. I clutched my books to my chest. It wasn’t as though I was going to miss my chance to speak with the deputy headmistress. We’d agreed to meet in an hour.

“Never mind,” I murmured. “I can always ask her later.”

All three boys relaxed. Leopold beamed and offered me his arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

Leopold walked me through the hallways and up the stairs. Sebastian trailed behind us, while Prakash, whose schedule was as heavy as mine and did twice as many subjects as the mainstream students, went to his next class.

We reached the fourth floor of the west wing just as a cleaning crew of women wearing blue, checkered dresses and white sneakers left holding their cleaning supplies. Their supervisor, a white-haired woman, explained the finer points of limescale removal to a bleached blonde.

“Has anyone been giving you any trouble?” asked Leopold.

I shook my head. “Apart from the occasional snide comment about what happened to Ashley, no.”

“Who’s been saying things?” asked Sebastian.

“Just people as they pass.” I shrugged. “Younger students, mostly. They mutter or oink but don’t have the guts to repeat themselves when I confront them. It’s not a big deal.”

Leopold cupped my cheek and rubbed the pad of his thumb over my skin. “Be careful with people, alright? Sometimes those you trust the most can let you down.”

My heart skittered over several beats. “If you know anything—”

“He doesn’t,” Sebastian snapped. “Everyone’s speculating, and it’s making us agitated.”

“I have a right to know who is trying to get to me.”

Sebastian’s nostrils flared. “If we knew for certain who put you in that car, I would be the first to report them to the police. Right now, all we have are speculations with no proof. And running around making accusations will only attract more animosity.”

I stared at the polished, parquet floor. He was right, but I still ached to know who Leopold suspected.

Leopold pressed a kiss on my temple and murmured, “I’d tell you if I could.”

I gave him an absent nod and made a mental note to put more effort into deciphering Corrine’s diary. The closer I got to the year of her death, the more codes she used in her writing. As they walked back toward the stairwell, I wondered if Sebastian was protecting Prakash.

* * *

After taking another dose from Master Chang’s herbal sachets, I made my way to Miss Claymore’s room for my private coaching session. We worked out a system where she would read through assignments that contributed toward my grade averages, and I would study on my own until I stumbled across something I didn’t understand.

She had just pointed out a glaring error in one of my essays when my stomach heaved.

Her face dropped. “Miss Evergreen?”

“Going to…” Another spasm seized my guts. “Vomit!”

Miss Claymore reached under her desk and whipped out a trashcan. “Use the bin!”

Grabbing the cold metal item, I twisted in my seat and placed it on my lap. Just in time for my breakfast and two doses of the Chinese herbs to splatter onto a used copy of The Times and scraps of balled up paper.

“Sorry.” I spat into its metal depths. “Ugh… This isn’t like me.”

“Maybe you should see Dr. Forrester,” she said. “Vomiting is a symptom of concussion.”