Page 265 of Depraved Boys

We stood in silence on his rug for several moments. Leopold and Sebastian were waiting for me several doors down, anxious to discover the contents of Corrine’s diary. Maybe finally knowing why Corrine had committed suicide would give Cormac the closure he needed to heal. I gazed up into his watery eyes and gave him what I hoped was a sympathetic smile.

Cormac dipped his head and gave me a sheepish smile in return. “Will you do me a favor?”

“Anything.” I wrapped my arms around his thin bicep.

“I’m getting married at the end of term, and I need a best man.”

Rearing back, I asked, “T-to Geraldine?”

“We’ve got the registry office booked in Gretna Green.”

My insides twisted into knots. Bianca had already confirmed that Geraldine had paid Ashley ten-thousand pounds to win that disgusting bet. To me, it was proof that Geraldine had misused Cormac’s contribution to the honeymoon and intended for his pigging to take place on the day of the supposed wedding.

A lump formed in my throat. If I brought up my suspicions about Geraldine on the heels of reading out Corrine’s last words, I might break Cormac’s spirit. But if I stayed silent, he might follow his sister into death.

“Cormac, I—”

He placed his fingers over my lips. “I know what you’re going to say, but trust me. Geraldine won’t break my heart.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

Sebastian passed the original diary, plus the software, and the subsequent translations to Mr. Pinkerton and waited. The authorities continued to turn down our requests to visit Prakash, and we couldn’t even send him letters of support.

After a week of not hearing any good news from the lawyer, the three of us began to lose hope. Over the final weeks of the school year, I threw myself into my studies, mostly for the six-thousand-pound bonus Mrs. Benazir had agreed to pay me in our contract. Miss Claymore kept her distance and didn’t call Sebastian out during English class, although she would occasionally cast glances at the royal table during mealtimes.

Without Bianca around, Geraldine took up the reins as the sole Queen of Brittas Academy with a newly popular Barrett as her knight in shining armor. None of us could give a damn when our fourth still festered in a juvenile detention center.

One morning at breakfast, Mr. Blunt led four police officers into the dining room. He looked in our direction and murmured something to the sergeant. Leopold and Sebastian stood, and I scrambled to my feet.

“This has to be about Kash,” I whispered.

Sebastian wrapped a hand around my wrist. “Or Ashley told them a pack of lies that implicated you in the poisonings.”

Panic speared through my heart, pumping blood to my trembling extremities.

“Whatever she says, they’ll eventually discount it as lies,” said Leopold.

My insides churned with trepidation. Sometimes, the truth never came out or at least took its time. If the justice system worked as it should, Prakash would be sitting with us at the royal table and not awaiting trial in an institution for young criminals.

A hush fell across the dining room, filled by the occasional whisper. My pulse jumped in my throat like a pair of twin frogs, each desperate to escape for freedom.

The quartet of officers advanced toward us through the maze of occupied tables. A sea of students in bottle-green uniforms twisted in their seats to get a better look.

Miss Claymore swept down from the high table and stood in the police officers’ path. “May I help you?” she asked in a haughty voice. “Law enforcers are to make their appointments with the headmistress.”

I recognized one of the officers. That thick-headed asshole who had interviewed me after Bianca’s fall from the east wing.

He turned to me, brows rising in recognition, and my legs nearly collapsed under the weight of his stare. Next to him was WPC Dobson, the policewoman who had been there for my forensic exam. Her kind smile did nothing to reassure me that I would survive the ordeal of prison with my mind intact.

Officer Asshole brushed Miss Claymore aside and continued toward the royal table. Beside me, Sebastian breathed hard. If fear hadn’t frozen my limbs, I would have reached out to give him comfort, but it was hard enough to stay upright.

As the police approached, sweat beaded on my brow, and painful spasms squeezed my heart. My breath froze. What the fuck had Ashley told them? I couldn’t think of a single thing I had done to warrant four officers.

Officer Asshole’s gaze turned to a point behind our table, and the police passed. My muscles became limp, and all the air left my lungs in a single breath.

The police stopped at the royal pretenders. “Barrett Riley, you are under arrest for sexual assault and for possession with intent to supply.”

Outraged shouts filled the dining room, and some of the younger students burst into tears. I clenched the back of my chair. Ever since his outburst, people had treated Barrett like a brave hero who had triumphed over personal tragedy. They had forgotten what he and his group of knights had done to earn Ashley’s wrath.