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“Ye just said she sent a mob after us.”
“She was drunk. Probably didn’t know what she was doing.”
“Are ye jokin’? So startin’ a fight on behalf o’ Antiro’s fine, is it, as lang as ye’ve necked a bottle o’ wine beforehand?”
Rory silences Finlay with a dagger-sharp glare. “Shewillbe punished,” he declares, and Duncan settles back in his chair with a satisfied fold of his arms, “but it doesn’t mean she’s on the same level as Callum Wells. Besides, I have her locked down in other ways, and someone else recently reminded me that mercy isn’t a weakness.”
Finlay’s eyes flick to me, as if it could only have been me who’d said it, and my face heats at such sentimentally drunken words that Rory’s deigning to take seriously. I don’t even remember speaking them, that’s how drunk I must have been that night.
“And why are we offerin’ mercy tae oor enemies?” Finlay asks in a testy voice.
“She hates us enough that amnesty might yank her otherwise not-inconsiderable brain into action.” When Finlay remains unconvinced, Rory sighs and adds, “Look, the way I see it, Belly’s useful. The more noise she makes, the more pathetic Antiro looks. No one’s looking to Arabella for cool points. She automatically makes thingsuncoolby endorsing them. So keep her yapping and she’ll annihilate Antiro for us for free.”
Finlay at least seems somewhat mollified as he dwells on this explanation.
“So are we all good?” Rory asks, turning to Duncan and the rest of the gremlins. “We know what we’re doing?”
“You talk to Hodgson. Belly gets her arse handed to her. And Callum Wells goes down.”
“I’ll leave you to sort out the details,” Rory says to Duncan, standing up. He glances over at me before helping to pull out my chair. The gremlins’ eyes fly to me again, and Duncan in particular is stony-faced as he stares at me. I sense the displeasure in his gaze and try not to let it get to me as Rory takes my hand and leads me out of the library.
The rest of the chiefs stay behind with the gremlins. When I’m out of earshot, I murmur to Rory, “They don’t like me.”
He looks at me sidelong as we take the main stairs. “Well, you haven’t offered them much to go on,” he says, sounding surprised that I should have expected otherwise. “It’s not their fault you’re still a mystery when you only said one word back there. They’re having to do a lot of heavy lifting, believing in my testimony of you as someone worthy of being at my table instead of them.”
I scowl at him, at how easy it is for Rory to look at me and suggestyou can do better. It’s true, I guess — I didn’t contribute much. But a hundred pairs of gremlin eyes staring mistrustfully at you doesn’t set the scene for a comfortable, open discussion.
“They won’t hurt you, you know,” Rory adds in a gentle tone, as though reading my thoughts. “I’ve made myself abundantly clear in that regard, that all that business is over with when it comes to you.”
In a rush, I blurt out, “Are you sure letting Arabella off the hook is the right way to go?”
He indulges me with a small smile. “I know it was your first time, little saint, but the point of the table format is you’re free to speak your mind and thrash out issues over there, andthenwe move ahead. Not hold back until you have my ear all to yourself and try to make changes on the fly.”
“Okay, fine, I get it, but I know I might have said mercy isn’t a weakness—”
“You didn’t,” Rory says, looking amused. “It wasn’t you I was talking about back there, little saint.”
I stare at him, startled. “Then…?”
He sighs as we reach the landing. “I was discussing what I should do about her with Danny.He’sthe one who said mercy isn’t a weakness. And he’s right. Because if I hadn’t shown mercy to you or him, then I wouldn’t have either of you in my life right now.” I gape at him, stopping on the stairway. It’s the most he’s ever said about liking Danny. As we resume the next set of stairs, Rory adds in an irritated tone, “And I’m notletting her off the hook— God, little saint, you’re almost as bad as Fin. Trust me. Belly will live to regret her actions.” He pauses. “Emphasis onlive, by the way, because I know my followers can be a bloodthirsty bunch when they want to put things to rights. Callum Wells, on the other hand… well, he better be praying for divine intervention by his bedside tonight.”
“I only recently realized he was Harry Wells’ son,” I admit quietly. “I can’t believe he used to be one of your grem—followers.”
Rory shrugs. “This whole school is a political establishment in itself, and everyone inside is enmeshed.” We ascend the next set of stairs. “Why do you think I was so high-strung last year? I knew he was gunning for me, giving all the big talk about overthrowing me. And now he’s done this.” He breathes out a small sigh. “It only hurts because I used to look after him. He was one of my most trusted followers and I thought I knew him well. Butmost trustedisn’t the same asmost loyal, and at some point, some of them go down paths you don’t want them to, and they’re inclined to let you down.” As we arrive at the seventh floor, where the moonlight shines through the expansive windows, Rory slows. “You have to let them go then, let them explore for themselves. They have to disappear down dark routes before returning to see for themselves that what they had all along was perfectly fine.”
His words sound almost tender, like the words of the righteous father he never had. “I’ve never heard you talk like this,” I murmur. “You care for them deeply.”
“Of course I care about them. They choose to follow me.”
It’s such a simple statement but one I realize resonates so completely with his values, that it’s his attitude to anyone who sticks by him. His words apply not just to Rory’s gremlins but to me andus, to his fellow chiefs and lovers.
He kisses me as we reach the bottom of the girls’ tower, his lips lingering against my hair as he holds me close. “Get some sleep, little saint,” he murmurs against the crown of my head, “because tomorrow we’re going to rise.”
