Page 62 of Deposed

“Overruled,” said Blake.

Henry folded his arms across his chest and gave Edward a sharp nod.

Edward turned to me. “Emilia,” he said in weary tones. “Please talk sense into these idiots.”

“The party is in two weeks,” I said. “By then, I’ll have mostly recovered. If we crash it, we can find out what she’s up to.”

“We can do that, too,” said Blake.

Edward’s lips flattened with disapproval. It looked like we would be gatecrashing Charlotte’s party, after all. He pulled himself out of his seat and stood. “Excuse me, Emilia, while I finalize arrangements for the academy’s temporary blood donation center.”

As he walked out of the room with his back ramrod straight, Blake stared after him with a frown. “What was that all about?”

“He’s pissed off.” Henry poured himself a cup of tea and raised the pot as though to ask me if I wanted some. When I shook my head, he poured out a cup for Blake.

“It’s World Blood Donor Day next month.”

“I don’t follow,” said Blake.

I reminded Blake and Henry about the penances each of them demanded from me at the start of term. While Blake wanted me to accompany him to Narcotics Anonymous, and Henry asked me to present myself to his parents as his girlfriend, Edward had wanted me to sit next to him in a meeting with the board of governors to present an idea to raise the profile of the academy in the press.

“I remember that now.” Henry took a slice of toast from the silver rack.

“That was real?” asked Blake. “I thought he was just trying to get into your knickers.”

I shook my head and smiled. Hopefully, Edward would join us in London. If there was a chance to hurt Mr. Carbuncle and have him finally thrown into prison, I would take it, even if it meant missing out on uncovering Charlotte’s machinations.

* * *

The party coincided with Elder House’s rugby match against Hawthorn House. We all lounged on the sofas at the front of the common room in protest of Coates ousting Henry as the team’s captain. It had been on the grounds of feeling uncomfortable in the changing rooms with someone so obviously gay. Yeah, as if Henry’s eye would wander to Coates when he roomed with someone as stunning as Blake.

When the clock struck four, I asked, “What time do they usually come back from a match?”

“Around now, I suppose,” said Edward.

“Unless a fight breaks out at the end,” added Henry.

Blake snickered. “Which happens about half the time.” The common room doors opened, and people streamed in, chatting from the match. “Here they are.”

I glanced at everyone who entered, noting some scholarship students and several people I’d seen around the house but who largely kept to themselves. None of the rugby players had arrived, and neither had any of their reserves. I leaned into Edward. “Doesn’t everyone usually arrive as a group?”

“They do.”

“Then where are Coates, Charlotte, and the other hangers-on?” I asked.

Henry narrowed his eyes. “You don’t think—”

“Nobody said the party would take place in the evening.” I pushed down on the armrest as leverage to hoist myself up. The bruises still ached a little and had turned green, but I no longer wore dressings or took painkillers.

The others stood, and we walked out of the common room, through the hallway, across the entrance hall, and out of the double doors. A warm gust of citrus-scented air hit us from the direction of the magnolias as we walked down the stone steps.

A squat rugby player limped toward us leaning on a crutch. His left eye was swollen shut, and blood spilled from a head wound that had been wrapped in multiple layers of bandages and stained the front of his shirt. My stomach churned in sympathy for his injuries.

“Patterson-Bourke,” said Blake.

The boy’s eyes widened, and he clasped his free hand to his chest with the kind of shocked modesty of a girl finding a weirdo in the locker room.

“Don’t flatter yourself, you twat,” snapped Henry.