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It was the last thing I expected him to say.
“She’ll be starting in the upper school a year ahead of schedule.”
“How can she possibly do that?” I’m honestly so stunned I can barely organise my thoughts. “She can’t skip Year 11, she has her GCSEs to—”
“She sat them this summer with the Year 11 students at her school.”
I stare at him.
Zaro and I haven’t seen one another since last Christmas holidays. She was only home for a week, and she was a little more quiet than usual, but she never mentioned sitting her exams early. I think about our texts—I check in on her more or less every week—but again, she never made any mention of early exams, skipping a year, or coming to Spearcrest.
“I’ve had the transfer arranged, and I’ve already spoken to Mr Ambrose. She’ll be starting in the upper school, and the reason for that is that I want you to keep an eye on her.” My father sits back in his chair, flicking off his glasses and fixing me with a direct, insistent look. “I’m not asking you this lightly, and I’m not asking you to do this casually. I mean it. I want you to keep a close eye on her, do you understand?”
The implications of his words leave a distasteful flavour in my mouth. I narrow my eyes. “You want me tospyon her?”
His eyebrows lower into a glare. “Don’t be so melodramatic. I want you to keep an eye on your sister and make sure she stays out of trouble. I need you to swear to me you will.”
By this point, it’s clear something’s happened. But if my father thinks he can get me to swear to spy on my own sister without sharing whatever information he’s withholding, he’s gravely mistaken.
Settling myself into one of the seats facing his desk, I prop my elbows on the armrests and sit back, watching him closely.
“What happened?” My voice is firm; this isn’t a question I’ll allow him to ignore.
My father watches me for a moment, his mouth pinched in annoyance. He’s always resented the shifting dynamics between us. If he could, he would continue to treat me as his inferior, but I’m not. The fault lies at his feet—he didn’t raise me to be his inferior.
He lets out a loud sigh. “Look. Your sister was caught having an inappropriate relationship. I won’t be telling you anything more, so don’t bother asking. She won’t be returning to Sainte-Agnès; that’s all you need to know.”
My stomach churns. An inappropriate relationship could mean anything according to my father. Zaro could be dating the most well-mannered boy, and if my father so much as suspected they’d done more than hold hands, he would probably deem it inappropriate.
For all the Blackwood family prides itself on being a “modern” aristocratic family, my father’s views are positively Victorian when it comes to his daughter.
What’s making my stomach churn with unease is that she’s not returning to Sainte-Agnès. Leaving her school, skipping a year and transferring to Spearcrest—where my father has thus far been refusing to send her—would surely be an overreaction, even by his standards.
“Now give me your word,” he snaps. “I won’t ask you to spy on her—you don’t even need to report back to me. I just want you to keep an eye on her and make sure she stays out of trouble. No wild parties, no…inappropriatebehaviour. Nothing compromising.”
This is going to be my final year at Spearcrest—my time to prepare for my exams, to work on my university applications, and my final year to best Theodora. I have a thousand things to do without adding to that the responsibility of looking after Zaro.
But she’s my sister.
And Blackwoods always put family first.
“Very well.” I stand. “I’ll see to it.”
“Make sure that you do.” My father doesn’t speak again until I reach the door. “And Zachary?” I turn back with a frown. “I want you to take this responsibility as seriously as any of your other responsibilities. If I have to find out through one of my contacts—or God forbid, via social media or the tabloids—that your sister has been getting into any sort of compromising situation or trouble—there’ll be hell to pay. For both of you.”
I nod. “Nothing’s going to happen to her. I give you my word.”
Zaroreturnshometheweek after I do, preceded by a mountain of Louis Vuitton luggage.
She is summoned to my father’s office, where she spends the afternoon. Dinner that night is a tense affair. I make some attempts at lightening the atmosphere, but my parents remain taciturn, and Zaro is doing everything in her power to avoid eye contact with me.
Later, when I’m certain my parents have gone to bed, I go to her room. She ignores my knocks, forcing me to sneak through the guest bedroom adjacent to hers and climb across the adjoining balconies.
But when I reach the guest room balcony, I stop. Wrapped in a silk robe, Zaro is standing on her balcony, arms on the balustrade and hair floating in the wind like a modern Juliet.
Juliet with long curls and a bottle of whisky in her hand.
“Really? You’re drinking now?”
