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In a terse voice, however, Moncrieff scoffs, “Yes, I can see that.”
My hair may have reddened in mortification, and I watch Dr. Moncrieff turn his back on us as we quickly begin to dress. This is painful. This is precisely what none of us wanted, as much as we’d played our games, daring each other to dance along the tightrope between private and public. It’s the exact opposite of thrilling. I want to hide under the table for the rest of my cringe-shortening life.
Danny, likewise, can barely dress himself. He’s shaking as he tugs his pajama top over his head, his cock still straining beneath his bottoms like a totem to tonight. On the other hand, Finlay seems entirely unwilling to part from between my legs, cajoled into doing so with a miserable sigh only when I nudge him aside with my knee.
Eventually, all four of us are no longer in the various states of nakedness Moncrieff had blundered in on. We look as we had done before heat and hormones had taken over, discussing politics and other more civil-minded matters. Moncrieff turns around to check on us with a deeply displeased frown, then leads us away from the library. How late it must be, I think to myself, as Rory’s candle twinkles beside me like starlight. He takes my hand in his, glaring silver daggers at Moncrieff’s back. There are a thousand things we’d rather be doing thanthis.
When we enter his classroom, Moncrieff quietly closes the door behind us. We file in a straight line at the front of the chalkboard. I note the complete lack of interest on Finlay’s face — but of course, he thinks he’s already lost his place here. What is it to him if he leaves Lochkelvin with a bang — or a lick? Meanwhile, Danny’s gazing down at his fluffy-socked feet, as if the longer he concentrates on the floor, the more it’ll be his reality instead of the one happening above us.
“I don’t know what you were thinking,” Moncrieff mutters, pulling out his chair. But he eschews it as usual, instead walking in front of us, inspecting our faces, as we await our punishment. He leans against his paper-covered desk. “I don’twantto know what you were thinking,” he adds, as if one of us had been about to fill him in on the joy of sex. “You must have known what you were doing was wrong? And yet you did it anyway.”
It didn’t feel wrong.Thisfeels wrong.
He lets the accusation linger until it becomes uncomfortable, and then pushes it beyond that, until I rationalize thathisside always does the wrong thing and never seems to give a fuck or get remotely punished.
“I know things have been…difficultfor you since Mr. Milton left—”
“King Lucas the Third,” Rory amends, staring straight ahead.
Dr. Moncrieff says nothing for a moment. When I glance up at him, his expression is one of unexpected sympathy. As surprising as this is, it makes my anger burn even more.
“Whatisa king, sir?” Rory drawls. “Is it the fool on a throne who says he’s one, or is it the one he banishes because he threatened his fragile ego?”
“I know you think the worst of me,” Dr. Moncrieff murmurs slowly, ignoring this question and sliding onto his desk, “but I am not against you.”
His words are another surprise but, beside me, Finlay lets out a soft, unimpressed breath.
“It’s true. In fact, these days I’m… somewhat in awe of your loyalty towards your friend.”
“We don’t need awe. We don’t need pity. And we certainly don’t need your late-night condemnation.” Rory’s scowl is dark with loathing. “We just want to be left alone.”
Dr. Moncrieff spreads his palms and offers a despairing shrug. “I’m a teacher, Mr. Munro. I cannot allow that.”
“So get it over with, then,” Rory bites out, holding out his scarred wrist. “What punishment do we get to kick-start our day with?”
Dr. Moncrieff can’t seem to look away from the jagged bright pink lines struck across Rory’s pale skin. His expression is one of deep disquiet. “It hasn’t worked, has it? The forced separation, the physical punishment. Still, you find a way. Why? Why go through all that pain when you could just…?”
The question dangles.When you could just do as others demand.Live an easy life. Obey.But this isn’t just about the chiefs’ connection, I realize: it’s about basic integrity, of standing up for the truth, like we stand up for Luke. Yes, it’s difficult to be reprimanded day in, day out. But to submit to Benji like the spooked idiots all around us… I’d rather live a lifetime of pain than exist on my knees, and so, I think, would the rest of the chiefs. Maybethat’sthe ultimate thing that bonds us.
“Miss Weir?” Dr. Moncrieff prods, trying to draw me in. He turns to Danny, who stares in defeat at the floor. “Mr. Hamilton?”
“Is it no’ obvious?” Finlay snaps. “We take the beatings ‘cause it’s less painful than no’ seein’ each other.” He sticks out his wrist, just as Rory had. Raw, pink skin shines out. “We take the beatings ‘cause we know we’re right, and violence is a’ you lot have. So quit wi’ yer lectures and just fuckin’ dae it.”
“No,” Dr. Moncrieff says, and at this Danny finally raises his gaze from the floor. “This is not why I entered teaching.”
Even Finlay looks confused. “But we were… in the library…”
“I overheard noise. It’s why I checked. I did not expect what I saw, but I also believe that my seeing anything at all — and indeed this entire conversation, judging from the looks on your faces — is punishment enough.” He pauses and adds in a more determined voice, “Violence is not restorative justice, and I do not believe in the physical abuse of students. I also do not believe in punishing acts of love.”
Rory makes a soft scoffing noise. “How romantic.”
“I do not mean whatever nonsense you were getting up to in the library. I refer to the fact you were there in the first place, at this time of night, presumably because the rest of the castle is out of bounds and you’ve scoped it as the only safe place for you to meet. I refer to you standing upright, as you uncomplainingly accept unjustbeatings, as you call them, for nothing more than trying to interact. I refer to your dogged defense of your king, Lucas Milton.Thoseare acts of love.”
Your king.
His words are so unexpectedly empathetic that I’m bewildered. I don’t know how to deal with this — Lochkelvin teachers aren’t like Dr. Moncrieff. They do not say things like this. They are not full of understanding.
And for Dr. Moncrieff, dossier author and researcher, to say this…
