Page 40 of Wicked Elites

“Speaking of pigs,” said Leopold, “Have you been keeping an eye on your sister?”

“What do you mean?”

Prakash clamped a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t wait for a calamity to discover that neither of you belong here.”

“You’re both talking in riddles!” I snarled.

“Leave,” Prakash snarled. “Whatever they’re paying you to stay here isn’t worth your life.”

Miss Claymore stood. “Good morning, class. Turn to page two hundred and five of your textbooks.”

We all scrambled to our seats, and I turned around to see if Cormac was in the room. He sat at the back next to Michelle with a textbook between them. I turned back to the front and tried to concentrate on Miss Claymore’s lecture on Annie Besant’s use of persuasive language in her speeches and pamphlets.

I still couldn’t work out who might have been in my room last night. All the likely subjects weren’t determined enough to trash my room then tidy it up again. Whoever did it was extraordinarily twisted.

* * *

As soon as the class ended, I rushed out of the lecture theatre and into the parquet hallway. Cormac and Michelle walked ahead, and I jogged up to them, reached into my bag, and closed my fingers around the diary.

“Cormac, can I talk to you for a second?”

“See you at lunch.” Michelle continued ahead.

“What’s up?” he asked.

I pulled out the leather-bound book.

Cormac hissed. “Where did you get that?”

“In my room, behind a cushion.” I tried putting it into his hand. “It belonged to—”

“I know.” He flinched away. “Burn it.”

“But—”

Cormac turned his head, as though looking at the diary hurt his eyes. “I want to remember my sister the way she was before we joined this mad house. If I open up that book and read any of those insane rants, it will drag me into lunacy.”

I suppressed a shudder and slipped the diary back into my satchel. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to dredge up painful memories.”

He swallowed hard. “I-It’s alright. If I’d found a belonging of someone’s deceased relative, I’d want them to have it, too. But this situation is different.”

Because he had lost her piece by piece in her last months. All because of her obsession with the kings. “Can I send it to your parents?”

He turned back to me and blinked. “Sorry?”

“Your parents. I could post it to them.”

Cormac paused and let a crowd of students pass before leaning into me. “We grew up in foster care. Our birth parents never reconnected with us, and I’m waiting to turn eighteen, so I can get my records.”

I chewed my lip. Every time I opened my mouth, it seemed I hurt Cormac in some way. Maybe Ashley was right about me hurting people and not realizing I’d caused them damage. But Corrine kept coming up in conversation, and now I’d found her diary. Apologizing didn’t seem to encompass how shitty I felt about dredging up the worst of the memories of his dead sister.

“Try not to end up like Corrine.” His eyes shifted away from mine. “She used to walk up to those three and accuse them of ridiculous things to get their attention. Just like you were doing before English.”

My mouth fell open. “But I wasn’t—”

“I’ve got to go to my next class,” he said. “See you later?” Before I could reply, he hurried down the hallway and through a door that led to a stairwell.

“Willow?” asked a familiar voice that both made my nipples tighten and set my teeth on edge.