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Something passes between the two of them, then Knight turns to me.
"I won’t sugarcoat it—"
"Don’t."
"It’s bad."
"Right." I swallow. I wasn’t lying when I told Solene I was narcissistic. I only came into my looks when I turned eighteen. Until then, I was a too-tall-for-my-age, bespectacled nerd with an IQ so high, it was both a blessing and a curse. It meant I got into Oxford at thirteen; it also meant I got bullied for everything. From my relative youth to my too-large-for-my age form, everything was fair game. Until I took part in a university play, and everything changed. I discovered I could go on stage and forget about who I was. I could assume any persona I wanted and become that character. One not saddled with a brain so powerful it was more of a liability. From there, it was only logical that I pursue the one profession which depended on my looks and my acting talent. The only thing I ever wanted was to become a successful actor and now—now it seems even that might be out of reach.
"The wound on your forehead is likely to scar. You also have a smaller gash on your cheek, a broken nose—which, if you’re lucky, will heal without needing any more surgery to fix it. You have three broken ribs, a sprained neck, a cracked femur, a broken ankle, many lacerations—"
"And a concussion," Cade pipes in.
"Thanks, man." I narrow my gaze on him. "Aren’t you supposed to be playing in some tournament or another?"
"Yes, but I’d rather be sitting here gloating over your wounds than facing down a ball. Besides, the prize money wasn’t that big for this one."
"You need it, though."
Cade’s working his way up the leagues. His goal is to play for the English cricket team. Of the three of us, he’s the one who comes from an unprivileged background. Which means, he’s also always strapped for cash.
"No big deal." Cade shrugs.
"It is a big deal. You didn’t have to do this."
"Yes, I did." He sets his jaw.
"You could, at least, accept some help from me and Knight—"
"Not in a fucking blue moon." He folds his arms across his chest. I take in his set features, then nod.
"Thanks for coming, anyway."
"This over a chick?" he drawls.
I shoot Knight a sideways glance, then wince when that causes a dull thud of pain to pool between my eyes. "You tell him?" I snap.
"Not me." Knight raises a shoulder. "He came to that conclusion all by himself."
"You’re all beat up, yet you haven’t lost the fire in your eyes. It’s a chick, all right." He smirks.
"I haven’t lost the fire in my eyes because I’m pissed," I growl.
Cade whistles. "Whoa, Romeo, what did she do?" Then he raises his hands and says, "No, don’t tell me. She get her father to send his men to beat you up?"
"Her brother, and fuck you, dickwad."
"Ooh, pretty boy finally finds his spine, eh?" Cade leans forward in his seat. "What're you going to do about it? You going to take revenge?"
"Revenge?" Knight glances between us. "Hold on, she’s just a kid."
"She’s fourteen."
"Fourteen?" Cade’s jaw drops, then he barks out a laugh. "Hell, mate, it’s good you’re finally spreading your wings and exploring and all, but I could have told you for free to keep away from jailbait."
"Fourteen is the age of consent in Italy."
Cade snorts.
