Page 24 of Cruel Games

“Miss Liddell, don’t compound your foul language with a lie. I will see you in my office right away.” The deputy headmistress spun on her heel and stormed out of the dining room.

“You’ll pay for this,” Elizabeth snarled before trailing after Mrs. Campbell.

I shook my head. “What is her problem?”

“You don’t know?” asked Gideon.

“She wants me to leave?”

“You’re a threat.” Gideon turned his gaze to her table. Maxwell, Orlando, and Kendrick stared in our direction. “She’s been the queen of the academy. Now that you’ve arrived, she feels you might knock her off her throne.”

I snatched my gaze away and focused on my friend. “Because we’re both blondes? That’s ridiculous.”

“Those three reprobates have been vying for her affection for years. Elizabeth has kept them keen with crumbs of attention.”

“What’s so special about her?”

“She’s one of the prettiest girls in the academy, and an heiress, too.”

“They’re after her money?”

“Not them. Most parents will put pressure on their sons to befriend the future Lady Liddel. The man who marries her will secure that title for himself and his first-born son.”

I shook my head. “Social climbers.”

“That’s how it is with the upper echelons of any society.” Gideon took a slice of toast from the rack and spread a generous serving of butter on its surface. “It’s about wealth and titles.”

“I’m glad to be working class, then.”

“Well, imagine her frustration when you came along. Same height, similar hair, brighter eyes, and looking more attainable.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Is that your way of calling me a slut?”

“Hardly.” He bit into his toast. “But you can’t deny that Elizabeth sets herself up as a virgin in the tower.”

My eyes narrowed. I didn’t need to be a mastermind to understand Gideon’s implication. Without all that wealth, there wouldn’t be much difference between Elizabeth and me. Yet the silly cow wanted me to suffer for having slightly better skin and being more approachable.

“In this fairytale, would I be the bubbly tavern wench?”

He dipped his head, his shoulders shaking with laughter. I tried to picture myself in a low cut, medieval bodice, and shook my head. No way.

*

We later heard through Myra, the tawny-haired, gazpacho-flinging witch that Elizabeth had been banned from the next Glasgow weekend for lewd behavior.

The two girls shot me the filthiest looks, but their unprovoked attacks had put them on verbal warnings. The next time they started anything with me, they’d get sent home for ten days.

The weekend before our big night out, I was walking through the top floor hallway when the sound of hurrying footsteps filled my ears.

“Morning, handjob.” A familiar voice curled around my senses.

I continued walking.

“Hand-Cock, I’m talking to you.”

I stared at my imaginary watch.

Orlando overtook me and stepped in my path.