by Sofia Daniel
“A boyfriend, then?” asked Leopold.
With a long breath, I shook my head. “Her only regular guy lives in a squat. Not even Ashley would expose her open wounds to that level of squalor.”
“Where then?” asked Leopold.
“My Uncle Trevor.”
He wrinkled his nose. “But his wife—”
“Aunt Hortense always preferred Ashley.” I leaned forward, placing my hands on both backrests.
“Make sense, considering,” muttered Leopold.
Sebastian turned around and started up the engine. “Right then. Will your aunt be at home?”
I nodded. “She doesn’t work.”
The journey took less than ten minutes through Carlisle City Center. As I passed the cemetery, my chest tightened. Not because of what Mom and Dad would say about my estrangement from Ashley—I’d long gotten over that. But because Mom had wanted us to spread her ashes over the mountains of the Lake District.
I ran a hand through my hair. That had been when Mom thought she would die of breast cancer. Would she have changed her mind if she had known that those mountains would be the cause of her death?
Sebastian pulled into the courtyard outside the massive house in Upperby and parked the jeep at the double doors. I stared up at the grand building that had been divided into small apartments in the sixties, wondering why on earth Ashley had left the hospital early when Aunt Hortense had a newborn and was probably still recovering from a cesarean.
As we approached the building, a young couple stepped out of the door and held it open, saving us the need to call the entry phone. Uncle’s apartment was up a flight of stairs and to the left.
The sound of crying children carried through the hallway, making me wonder what the neighbors thought of Uncle Trevor and his family. I strode in front with Leopold and Sebastian taking up the rear.
Moments after knocking, a disheveled-looking Uncle Trevor opened the door. Dark circles ringed his eyes, which widened at the sight of me. “Willow.” His gaze traveled over my shoulder to Leopold and Sebastian. “What brings you here with these… friends?”
“I’m looking for Ashley.”
He stepped out into the hallway and closed the door. “Your sister is in a bad way. Do you know the hospital turfed her out for throwing a bowl of soup over a policewoman?”
I turned around and exchanged puzzled looks with the boys. Did this mean they had seen the footage I shot of Bruce and questioned her again about the identity of her attacker? Turning back to Uncle Trevor, I asked, “What actually happened?”
“She was so distraught yesterday, I couldn’t make sense of what she said.” He swayed on his feet and leaned his back against the door.
“Are you alright?” I whispered to Uncle Trevor. “If you need Ashley to leave—”
“We’re family, no matter what.” He shook his head.
My throat dried, and I licked my parched lips. “If things are getting too cramped, you can always move into—”
“No. Hortense would see that as charity and turn down the offer, and if you charged rent, she’d be offended.” He stretched and yawned. “It’s best to leave things as they are.”
“Right.” My shoulders sagged. It made sense in a twisted sort of way. “We need to see Ashley.”
His brows drew together. “Is it important? She’s resting.”
“Someone’s freedom is dependent on her telling the truth, but she’s submitted a false statement to the police.”
“I see.” He scrubbed at his eyes, then his shoulders sagged. “Actually, I don’t.”
“We just need to speak to her.”
Opening the door to his apartment, Uncle Trevor stepped aside. “She’s resting in our room. Don’t leave the door open. Otherwise, it will take an hour for the kids to calm down about her face.”
“Thanks.” I gave his arm a tight squeeze, hoping that things would improve for him and his growing family, then stepped through the threshold.
Leopold and Sebastian followed me down the narrow hallway, where we passed Aunt Hortense, who slumped on a sofa with Stevie lying across her lap, Annie climbing up her knees, and the baby slung over one shoulder. Peter sat in front of the TV screen, watching a show about smiling trains.
After giving my cousins hugs and kisses, and avoiding my aunt’s malevolent glower, we set off for the master bedroom.
I knocked on the door and stepped inside.
Ashley sat in Uncle Trevor’s bed, playing with an iPad. She glanced up, looking a little less swollen than before. “Can’t resist me? I know you’d track me down and come crawling back.”
“We’re more interested in clearing Kash’s name,” said Leopold.
“Well, I wanted to sell my parents’ house, but my sister keeps standing in my way.”
“Is that what this is all about?”
Ashley nodded. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I rolled my eyes. Clearly, she thought we were recording her, so she didn’t want to contradict what she had told the police. “If I delivered your half of the proceeds of the sale, will you retract your statement?”
“How dare you!” She gave me a thumbs up. “If you think I would allow money to come in the way of justice, you’re more twisted than I thought. Maybe you asked Prakash to beat me up in exchange for sex.”
“Unbelievable,” muttered Sebastian.
“Rather desperate, really,” said Leopold.
Ashley ignored them and turned to me. “Hurry up.”
“Hurry up and give you the money?”
She gave me an eager nod. “Hurry up and leave!
“One more question.” I folded my arms and tapped my foot. “Bruce Wilmington hurt you, didn’t he?”
Ashley bowed her head. “Just get out,” she said in a broken voice. “I never want to see your smug face again.”
Chapter 5
I should have felt vindicated by my conversation with Ashley—from her tone of voice, she had acknowledged that Bruce had attacked her, but all I could feel was a bone-deep shame. Shame that Sebastian, Leopold, and Uncle Trevor had seen how low Ashley could stoop for money.
Ashley’s shoulders shook in silent sobs. Despite her tough girl exterior, Bruce’s treatment of her had hurt. I knew the ecstasy of being wanted by three gorgeous boys, had my heart filled to overflowing with their affection. Mine would shatter if they ever revealed that it was a game, but my spirit would break if they subjected me to the level of hurt and humiliation I’d seen that snowy evening.
We all backed out of the room and into the hallway. Leopold placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. I soaked in the warmth of his touch. It was a silent reassurance that he hadn’t changed his perception of me because of Ashley’s actions.
Uncle Trevor held the front door open. Leopold and Sebastian left first. As I kissed him goodbye, he whispered, “Did you get what you wanted?”
“The truth? Yes. Although I’m not so sure about justice.”
“What happened to her?” he asked.
“It’s not my story to tell, and not as deadly as what happened to me in my first term, but it was awful.” I wrapped my arms around his neck for one last hug. “Tell Aunt Hortense I said bye.”
We didn’t dare to let anyone overhear us as we stepped out into the crisp spring evening and walked across the courtyard to the jeep. I turned around and gazed up at the first floor, where Ashley’s bruised face watched us from an open window.
Sebastian opened the jeep with his remote. We stepped inside and closed the door.
“Do either of you know soon an auction house can send the proceeds to a vendor?” I whispered.
“Selling your home is not an option.” Sebastian put the key in the ignition and backed out of the courtyard.
A fist squeezed at my heart until it bled. “We can’t let Prakash stay in that detention center.”
“That’s not what he’s saying,” Leopold turned around.
“One of my aunts left me some bank b
onds. With Leo’s help, I can—”
“You can’t give her your money,” I yelled.
“It’s the only way.” Leopold turned around in his seat and fixed me with a severe gaze. “If Mother and Uncle Bertram didn’t control every penny I spent, I would offer up the cash myself.”
I rubbed a hand over my mouth. The only uncle Leopold had ever mentioned was his mother’s personal assistant, who she had temporarily married to obtain heirs. From what he said, Leopold’s father seemed to care more about carrying out Mrs. Brunswick’s orders than about making sure his son was happy.
Sebastian turned onto the long road that led to the highway. Tall hedgerows bordered the road, leaving gaps that revealed glimpses of vast, green fields and the trees beyond.
“You heard Mr. Pinkerton,” he said. “The police are holding Kash because of Corrine’s case. If Ashley can withdraw her statement, they won’t have constant access to him and will hopefully curtail their questions about Corrine.”
I clenched my jaw and huffed out a sharp breath. She didn’t give a damn whether Prakash was suffering. “Ashley can’t get away with this.”
“Think about the bigger picture,” said Leopold. “Once Ashley has her money, she’s likely to leave you alone.”
Sebastian met my gaze in the rearview mirror. “And I’ll ask Pinkerton to draw up some papers to transfer her share of your house to your name.”
“It will be a clean break,” added Leopold.
My throat thickened. It seemed unfair to benefit from Sebastian’s generosity and Prakash’s misfortune, but I’d be damned if Ashley would get that money and retain her share of the house. In the future, I would pay him back, but for now, I leaned forward and gave Sebastian’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“Alright,” I murmured. “Let’s do this.”
Leopold pulled out his phone and tapped on the keyboard. “I’ll update Mr. Pinkerton.” He turned to Sebastian. “I’ll also text Klondike and tell him to await your call.”
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“Seb’s personal banker at the back,” he replied. “We should be able to have the cash ready by Friday.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” I asked.
Leopold shook his head. “A girl like Ashely would probably appreciate being able to walk away with the money in her hand over a bank transfer that could reverse itself after she’s gone to the police.”
“Besides,” added Sebastian. “She’ll be able to produce signed contracts for the transfer of her share of the house, so she’s less likely to be accused of money laundering.”
I blew out a long breath. The most money I’d ever dealt with was the monthly bursary, and that dwindled to a three-figure sum once the bank processed all the direct debits. “I suppose you’re right.”
Mr. Pinkerton updated us on his progress with Prakash’s case. He informed us that the youth offending team had turned down our request to visit him because of his prior trouble with the police, history of violence, and his being the prime suspect in the murder of Corrine Gibbons. He said he would continue trying, but I didn’t hold out much hope for his success.
We spent the rest of the holiday at the club, needing to stay close to the detention center in case someone changed their mind. They didn’t. Leopold and Sebastian worked with the lawyer to pay Ashley the amount she demanded, and I signed the contracts Mr. Pinkerton had drawn up, and the Land Registry forms to transfer Ashley’s share of the house to me.
By the time term started, we were in no mood for anyone’s bullshit, especially that of the knights or the queens. In Information Technology class, Geraldine and Bianca sat at the computer to my right with their heads stuck together, whispering and casting me filthy glances. The computer on my left was conspicuously empty, as I only shared this class with Prakash.
“Settle down, Misses Hill and Byrd,” said Mr. Waterford, our IT teacher.
“Sorry, sir!” Geraldine raised her hand. “But there’s an overwhelming stench of rancid pork in the air. Is there a dead pig carcass under the floorboards?”
Laughter erupted around the room.
I glowered at their smug faces. Geraldine had been pretty vocal since Prakash’s arrest. She probably thought that with the kings’ waning popularity, it was safe to challenge their authority.
Mr. Waterford shook his head and went back to his computer.
There was no point in striking out with an insult. So much had happened in my time at Brittas Academy that an indirect barb barely registered on my hurt-o-meter. And everything paled in comparison to what Prakash would be suffering in a juvenile detention center.
The next class was a free period, as I had ditched the swimming team. I walked toward the library, in the opposite direction to the swimming block.
Younger students gaped and whispered as I strode through the busy hallway. Between Ashley and myself, we’d been at the center of each major scandal to have taken place this year. No one insulted me directly, likely because Sebastian and Leopold had announced that I was under their protection.
I pushed open the door leading to a stairwell and headed down to the library when two hands shoved me down the steps. The impact made one leg twist over the other, and I stumbled forward, my bag slipping from my shoulder.
Panic exploded in my heart. In a moment of reflexive action, my left hand grasped at the railing, saving me from a disastrous tumble.
“What a pity you didn’t fall flat on your face,” said Bianca.
“She would have bounced back with those tits,” added Geraldine.
Bianca snorted. “True.”
I scrambled to my feet and backed down the stairs until I reached the landing. If this ended up in another physical fight, I would fare better on even ground.
“How desperate.” I tried to keep the tremble out of my voice. “You two must have sprinted up the stairs and down the fourth-floor hallway.”
Bianca smirked. “It was worth the effort.”
“What do you want?” I snarled.
“Nobody likes you.” Geraldine strolled toward me as though she was descending the stairway in a Miss World contest. “Not even Cormac.”
My throat dried, and I pushed away my fallen bag with my foot. “I suppose he told you this?”
Her face widened into a grin. “Cormac and I have a connection that transcends words.”
Behind her, Bianca rolled her eyes.
“What are you doing with him?” I asked.
“The usual. Tit-sucking, clit-licking—”
“I didn’t ask what you were doing with Bianca!” I snapped.
Normally, I didn’t give a damn about a person’s orientation, but Geraldine had appeared offended when Leopold taunted them about their sapphic practices with their sycophants. They’d hurt me, forced alcohol down my throat, violated me, and left me for dead, and this was my way of lashing out.
“You’d better watch your mouth.” The dark-haired queen advanced toward me with her fists clenched.
“Or you’ll try to kill me again?” I asked.
Her face twisted into a rictus of hatred so intense, it made me flinch. “Everyone wants you dead. It’s just a matter of time before someone succeeds.”
Geraldine shook her head. “Maybe Kash got confused by the stench of bacon and beat up the wrong twin.”
Bianca snorted. “I can’t see him mistaking a stick insect for a sow.”
“Fine. You’ve made your point,” I snapped. “I’m totally body-shamed on behalf of myself and Ashley. Can you two fuck off, now?”
“Not until you leave Brittas Academy,” said Bianca.
“We’ll throw you a going-away party that will rival the spread Bruce put on for Ashley.” She nudged Bianca. “Spread. Do you get it?”
A grimace crossed Bianca’s features. It was the slightest of movements, but I still caught it. Maybe she had more sympathy for Ashley’s plight than I had initially imagined. It wouldn’t surprise me, given the cruel and twisted tastes of her father.
I pressed my lips together and let out a frustrated breath. They couldn’t still be pissed off because of my relationship with the kings?
The last time they’d ambushed me, it had been related to my police report. Since none of the DNA in my forensic exam had matched theirs, the police hadn’t taken my complaint further. Now, they just wanted to attack me for sport.
“How about we live and let live?” I asked. “I won’t trouble you if you don’t trouble me.”
“Leave the Academy,” said Bianca. “Better still, leave the country. A freak like you can get a scholarship anywhere.”
“You don’t get to dictate my life, so it’s goodbye from me, girls.” I picked up my bag and moved to the other side of the stairs. Clutching the rail, I walked around them.
An open palm landed on my back in a stinging slap. I whirled around and landed my fist in Geraldine’s face. She shrieked and fell onto Bianca, who lost her footing.
I hurried down the stairs, not bothering to check on the state of Geraldine’s nose. Cormac would probably scold me for hurting his girlfriend, but I no longer gave a shit.
Instead of going to the library, I walked down the hallway and back up the stairs. Fury seared through my veins and powered each step. I’d been right. No one had ever reprimanded the queens for their actions, and they took that as tacit permission to attack me… Again.
As soon as I stepped into my room and locked the door behind me, I called the local authorities.
“Good evening, Cumbria police, how can I help?” asked the operator.
“I’d like to report an assault. A girl at my school pushed me down the stairs.”
“Are you injured?”
“No, but—”
“Alright, I’ll need some information from you. Name?”
The telephone operator took down my details, the address of the school, and Bianca’s name. Even though Geraldine hadn’t succeeded in pushing me, I mentioned her attempt as well. She typed everything down and gave me an incident number.