Page 9 of Cruel Hearts

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“You can sit up, now,” said Mr. Burgh as we reached the highway. “There’s no one following us.”

I raised my head from the back seat and glanced behind us for suspicious-looking black cars. Swathes of winter landscape bordered us on both sides of the road, and the only black car close by contained a bunch of children.

“Alright.”

“What on earth really happened?” he asked. “Someone knocked on my door in the early hours to tell me you’d been dragged naked out of your room by the police with Maxwell Deloraine.”

I smoothed down my hair, noting that for once, it wasn’t brittle. “They exaggerated. And Elizabeth set me up.”

“Again?” he said with disbelief in his voice. “What does that girl have against you?”

“She’s mentally unstable and shouldn’t have been allowed to return after attacking Miss Martin in tailoring club.”

Mr. Burgh blew out a long, weary breath. “Are you sure Elizabeth planted that package in your room?”

“Not a hundred percent,” I replied. “She might have gotten Maxwell, Orlando, or Kendrick to do the dirty work for her. But she definitely used her contacts in the police to organize the raid. Did you know she’s related to the Deputy Chief Constable of Police Scotland?”

“Camden is her uncle.” His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel.

I shook my head. “She has friends in high places.”

“Camden Lidell, Lady Lidell, and the Archbishop of Scotland are governors of the school. After an incident like this, I’ll be obliged to call an emergency meeting to discuss your future. I will try to fight in your corner, but it will be difficult to establish impartiality considering our familial relationship.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I muttered. “This is what she wanted all along. To get me expelled.”

Mr. Burgh’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t understand why she would take her animosity for you that far. But let’s hope the rest of her family will deal with you in an impartial and professional manner.”

Dread lined my stomach and pulled it down into my lap. There wasn’t a chance in hell of that happening.

Chapter 5

It was afternoon before we reached the academy’s gatehouses. Instead of the usual swell of pride that accompanied passing into the grounds, my chest shriveled with a mix of despair and impending doom.

The sun filtered through a lattice of bare branches from the trees that bordered the driveway. I tore my gaze from the unusual sight and tried to gauge Mr. Burgh’s mood. From where I sat in the back seat, the man remained stony-faced.

“What’s going to happen to me?” I cringed at what I’d become: hunted, running scared, and totally dependent on a man I barely knew. Things hadn’t changed since I’d moved in with Sammy to escape a shitty foster home.

“If you’re expelled, we’ll have to find you somewhere to continue your studies within driving distance of the academy.”

“Do you think the governors not attached to Elizabeth will want me out?”

Mr. Burgh drove past the entrance of the academy, the wheels of his jeep rumbling against the tarmac. “The academy’s Board of Governors consists of twelve people. Apart from Elizabeth’s three blood relatives, four are members of the Church of Scotland, and the remaining four are parents who can’t always attend the emergency meetings.”

“Right.” I was in deep shit and about to lose my place at the academy. All because an unbalanced twit decided to mess with my life. I dug the tips of my fingers into my thighs. If things went to shit, I’d stuff as much of it as I could down Elizabeth’s throat.

The clock tower chimed three, and I placed a hand over my mouth to stifle a yawn. The last time I’d slept this badly had been at the juvenile detention center, and I doubted I’d be able to sleep well tonight with the sword of uncertainty dangling over the back of my neck.

I glanced up at the headmaster’s quarters, which stood straight ahead in all its French mansion-style glory. Frost caught the winter sunlight, making the building twinkle like it was made of magic.

Slumping in my seat, I stared out of the side window as Mr. Burgh drove through tall, wrought-iron gates. In the fairytales, the heroine never got arrested and thrown into a dungeon. A bitter laugh huffed out of my throat. The girl in Rumpelstiltskin did, just before the king demanded that she spin straw into gold. If I didn’t spin up a good excuse for the academy’s Board of Governors, it would be me who lost everything.

Mr. Burgh stopped the engine and twisted around to fix me with a hard-eyed stare that made me stiffen. “Until you hear from the Board of Governors, you are not to re-enter the academy under any circumstances.”

“But my things are—”

“A staff member has already moved your books and clothing into my quarters. They can retrieve anything else you need.” Mr. Burgh stopped the car engine.