Page 13 of Cruel Hearts

Those bastards.

Those bloody, fucking twats.

Right now, I wished I was in the matrix. I would turn all Trinity on the wankers and slice them into megapixels.

“Lilah.” Orlando raised both palms as though trying to stop traffic.

The engine of my anger revved up from fury to incandescent to about-to-explode. I fixed my gaze on Orlando, the only one of that terrible trio whose face didn’t make me want to self-combust. How dare they look me in the eye after knifing me in the back?

“Boys,” said Mr. Burgh, his voice as cold as the wind. “You’re already in enough trouble as it is, if you don’t stay away from Lilah, I’ll have you sent home for a week.”

“We just want to explain,” said Orlando.

“Bugger off,” I snarled.

Mrs. Campbell placed a gloved hand on my arm. “Don’t engage with them.”

I clamped my mouth together. This was probably an attempt to make the archbishop witness a brawl. The old man would probably decide I was bringing down the tone of his academy and expel me on the spot.

“Think carefully about who you decide to follow, boys,” said Mrs. Campbell. “From what I gather, your attempt to frame Delilah backfired the moment one of you angered your ringleader.”

“I expected better from the Deloraine and Nevis families,” said Mr. Burgh.

Orlando exchanged a glance with the Deloraine twin. I didn’t know if this was Kendrick or Maxwell, and I didn’t care. Until recently, it had been easy to tell them apart. Maxwell was the one with the tattoos, the piercings, and the swagger. Kendrick was the unadorned twin who played it straight. Apparently not, if he allowed his twin to use his identity to fuck me over.

Mr. Burgh placed a hand on the small of my back, guiding me past the boys, and anguish rippled through my heart. What had I become?

Over the summer, I was the happiest girl in Richley. I’d gotten the grades I needed to get into the Fashion and Textiles course and could look forward to going to the London College of Fashion in two years. Then Sammy ruined everything by shagging my best friend and trying to brazen it out with his fists.

“Come along, Delilah.” Mr. Burgh gave me a gentle pat on the back.

With my grandfather at my side, I strode past Orlando and the twin with my nose in the air, not giving either of them a scrap of my attention. When I struck back, I would use their greatest fears against them. Just as they had done to me.

My long, outward breath formed a cloud of condensation. I continued through the parking lot, enjoying the shrill of Mrs. Campbell’s public dissection of their shitty morals and lack of character. According to her, they had gotten more than one girl in trouble for lewd conduct.

Turning to Mr. Burgh, I whispered, “Why haven’t they been expelled yet?”

“This afternoon at the emergency Board of Governors’ meeting, I’ll push for the Deloraine twins, but there’s little I can do about Mr. Nevis. In the meantime, don’t do anything rash.”

“Right.” This time, I would bide my time before striking back. No getting stabby then calling 999 with my fingerprints all over the weapon. This time, I’d attack from the shadows, sit back, and watch them flail.

At the end of the walkway, I glanced over my shoulder at the two boys standing side-by-side. We were too far away to see their expressions, but whatever Mrs. Campbell was saying to them made them both hunch their shoulders.

Inwardly cursing Crawford for snatching my coat off my back on Friday night, I adjusted the thick, woolen shawl over my shoulders to protect myself from the cold.

“Are you alright?” asked Mr. Burgh.

“Thanks for saving me from myself,” I muttered.

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and brought me into his side. “Unfortunately, I’ll be on the other side of the table at your disciplinary. Will you be able to stay calm in the face of Elizabeth’s relatives?”

* * *

About forty-five minutes later, I sat alone at one end of a boardroom table, an empty seat at my side. The archbishop and Lady Liddell sat at the other end of the boardroom table, making me feel like I was a prisoner of the Glorious Nation of Elizabeth.

On the left of Lady Liddell sat a younger version of the archbishop—Camden Liddell, I presumed from the toned physique and regimental posture. An old woman perched at his side, staring down at a notebook. Mr. Burgh and Mrs. Campbell sat opposite them, and three empty seats created what felt like an impassable gulf.

My throat dried, and I wiped my damp hands on the woolen fabric covering my thighs. If I had to make the comparison between a police interrogation and the Board of Governors, I’d have to say this was worse. At least when the police were doing things by the book, they allowed a girl a duty solicitor.