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59
“Turn it off,” Luke says, and Rory does so. He levels his dark eyes at Finlay, adding in a bitter whisper, “I cannot express how much I hate you right now.”
Finlay looks at him in surprise, Luke’s words clearly unexpected. “Whit?”
“I thought I could get over your actions. I believed it all to be water under the bridge. I’ve tried to understand your mind, your thought processes, when you did what you did… but all I see is vainglory. Especially now. My mother isdeadas a result of your actions. All royal titles stripped. Deroyaled. To be buried like a nobody. Right now, my forgiveness for you feels incredibly far out of reach.”
The island is smothered with stunned silence. This is what he’d been contemplating on the boat, when his thoughts had turned into anger toward Finlay.
“You can’t go back on this again,” Danny says quietly, turning to his friend. “You’d been getting along so well.”
Luke’s jaw tenses. He only has eyes for Finlay.
“He didn’t set out to kill your mother,” Danny adds. “He wasn’t the one who did it.”
In a cold voice, Luke says, “He knew the risks.”
Slowly, Finlay rises from his spot on the ground, his face serious beneath his messy black hair. “I’m right here,” he says, spreading his hands by his sides. “Fight me. End it noo. Fuckin’kill meif that’s whit ye want.” I don’t miss the sharp turn of Rory’s head at these words. Finlay gestures to the silver weapons lying by the tree stump. “There are daggers here,” he points out in an amiable tone. “D’you want tae pick one and stick it in me? Stick them a’ in me? I’ll be a fuckin’ pincushion for ye, Luke — will that make ye happy?”
“No,” Luke says quietly. “Because that’s whatyouwant. Martyrdom. All you want to do is fight and die to make your name known. You’ve always been just like Benji.”
Finlay grits his teeth. “So punch me. Just throw one fuckin’ punch, Luke. Get it oot yer system. Smash me tae bits.”
To my surprise, Luke picks himself up from the tree, brushing down his blazer in an easy, methodical manner. He steps across the ground to face Finlay. Finlay’s green eyes widen fractionally as Luke towers above him.
“They’re not actually…?” I ask, wondering how long their rivalry can be sustained like this. They’rechiefs. They’re supposed to work together, not clash in this way.
Rory, I note, is deliberately saying nothing. Maybe he thinks he’s better out of it, that this needs to be solved between Finlay and Luke, that his interference would only inflame matters. He watches the two of them carefully, as if preparing to jump in only if things turn messy.
When Luke stops in front of Finlay, he doesn’t speak. His hand flexes into a fist, as though considering throwing that punch. But before his fist can be swung, Finlay slowly sinks to his knees, observing Luke all the way during his descent.
“What are you doing? Get up.”
Finlay shakes his head. “No.” His voice is full of resolve. “This needs tae end.”
“Get.Up.”
Rory rubs a restless hand across his mouth, looking like he’s rethinking his decision to leave them to it.
Finlay’s green eyes shine in the dark like bottles. “Even noo, ye wouldnae hurt me. Yewanttae but ye cannae. It’s no’ in yer nature. So this is me, showin’ ye respect instead.” He bows his head, and I’m transported to a time and place when Luke had laid himself before me in a similar manner, awaiting the crown to be lifted from his head.
“Are you mocking me?Move.”
With an aggrieved sigh, Finlay does as Luke requests. “Only ‘cause ye asked,” Finlay mutters, rising to his feet once more. His shoulders sag, and he gazes at Luke utterly helpless and tired. “Christ, Luke, whit have I got tae dae tae make ye trust me again?” He kicks in frustration at a pile of leaves and, with the sense of one tugging on a strand of utter desperation, snaps, “Ye want me tae suck ye aff? ‘Cause say the word and I’ll get back doon on my knees tae suck yer dick.”
Luke scoffs, turning away in disgust. “No, Idon’twant…” But then he pauses, his dark mirrored eyes sweeping across to Finlay’s anguished, despairing face. He says nothing for a long time, and then, quietly, “Fuck it. Do it.”
Beside them, Rory’s eyes widen like silver bullets closing in. I sense rather than see the hinge of Danny’s jaw. And beneath my school uniform, my pulse begins to thunder down my veins.
Even Finlay looks thrown. “Whit,really?” he asks, studying Luke’s expression carefully. When Luke doesn’t respond, Finlay appears to decide for him. With the hint of an experiment, Finlay leans forward, edging his lips closer to Luke’s. Luke jerks his head back.
“I didnotconsent to that,” Luke snaps, his eyes flashing in anger, and Finlay scowls.
Romance is clearly far from Luke’s mind. This is ugliness. This is cruelty.
“So this is whit — punishment?” Finlay still stands, looking displeased. “Ye’re takin’ somethin’ ye know I like and usin’ it against me. That’s cold, Luke.”
“I don’t care.”
