Page 28 of Revenge

“Good. Rudolph says you need to top this and produce something explosive.”

My shoulders sagged. If the Correspondent made so much from Blake’s scandal, why was I now under even more pressure? “If I can encourage people to post about International House on the Mercia-Net, that should give you enough to write up a few articles, right?”

“Only when we find out why there’s suddenly a brand new house filled with people who don’t belong in a high school.”

I pursed my lips. With Edward being so cagey about the new students, I would need more than a bit of luck to crack that mystery.

* * *

The following Monday, Blake returned to the academy. He stepped through the dining room doors to a round of applause and cheers. His stony expression melted into a grin that froze halfway to his eyes. The members of the rugby team hoisted him on their shoulders and carried him to the head table, calling him a stud and a fucking legend. By the time they had bolstered his ego, his face brightened, and the smile turned genuine.

He stood on a chair at the head table, raising his arms and waiting for the wolf-whistles to subside. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” he announced. “News of my addiction to alcohol and drugs has been greatly exaggerated for the protection of the realm.”

“He took one for the country!” yelled a voice from the back of the dining room.

“Nice one!”

All my previous concerns for Blake evaporated into the ether, and my lips tightened. I had meant to give him a taste of what I had suffered, not turn him into a living legend. When the triumvirate had framed me, all I received was a week’s imprisonment, cheese sandwiches, and a brutal, humiliating send-off by the same people who now saluted Blake for getting caught talking treason.

Henry shook his head. “They shouldn’t encourage him.”

Since that little stunt didn’t work, I would have to try something else.

My gaze caught Alice’s, who rolled her eyes. The last time we had gone out, I’d mentioned that Sergei would be playing at an exclusive singles’ event in London. What if I got Jackie to arrange an apartment with cameras and enough drink to make everyone spill their secrets? That would keep Rudolph off my back until I found something worth publishing about International House.

Chapter 10

The excitement about Blake’s return from an unnecessary trip to rehab died down by the next day, and his mood became somber. Perhaps getting the blame for something that wasn’t really his fault had given him something to think about. Or his stepfather had admonished him for embarrassing the royal family. Whatever it was, he now turned pensive and would spend moments staring off into space.

I stopped shunning him and acted the supportive friend. Partially out of curiosity about his fate, but mostly to see if there was any information I could gather for my next attack.

English lit was the last class of the day. As everyone got up to leave, I turned to Blake. “Want to go for a walk?”

He gave me a sad smile. “A date?”

“If you like.” I shrugged.

Blake nodded and placed his books in his satchel. I twisted around, reached into my pocket, and turned on the recording app on my burner phone. When we’d both finished packing, I looped my arm through his, and we walked out of the main teaching block and across the lawn to the music block.

Throughout our journey, younger students whispered and gaped. A few mentioned Blake’s recent appearances in the papers and on the TV, but at a sharp look from him, they clammed up.

“How are you coping?” I asked.

Blake dipped his head. “The worst part about this mess is my stepfather. He’s denying ever saying the Prince of Wales might die before ascending to the throne, but Edward and Henry heard him.”

“Henry told me as much,” I murmured.

“Now the palace has labeled me a drug addict to save face.”

“Do they believe your side of the story?” I shooed away a little first year who jogged up with a scrap of paper for an autograph, dared to by his giggling friends.

“The aide I spoke to said it didn’t matter who said what. I shouldn’t have repeated it in public. He was livid that someone had placed a recording device in our common room and has written to the headmaster, demanding answers.”

My heart thudded in my chest, and I let out a long breath. Even if someone swept the room for hidden devices, they couldn’t be traced back to me. Not when they’d been set up by Mr. Carbuncle.

We rounded the building and walked into a courtyard with a circular lawn. Around it grew winter jasmine shrubs. A glossy evergreen plant laden with thick white flowers climbed over all the walls. It was the kind of garden that was pleasant in winter but would look spectacular in the summer.

I shook my head. “Everyone’s got smartphones these days. Even Charlotte.”