He put something in the wine.
Fucking dickweasel.
And I’d drained the whole glass like a fool, thinking they were testing me. I leaned my cheek against the cool mirror, not caring that I left a smudge I’d have to clean up later.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Heather and Titus waited in the hall. Heather smirked as I walked past. “I’d be sick too if I played that badly. Such a waste of a place at the academy. The garbage disposal plays better than you, that’s why we call you trash.”
I stalked past her without responding. Titus’ immovable bulk towered over me as I headed straight to the noticeboard to see if any of the practice rooms were free. None were. In fact, the rooms had been booked for the rest of the week. Hastily, I scribbled my name in the two remaining gaps in next week’s list. I knew I needed all the practice I could get.
I collected my violin from the ballroom and clambered back to the attic. By clambered, I mean I crawled on my hands and knees while doubled over in agony. My phone was still sitting on the bed amongst my strewn belongings. There was a text from the hospital saying Mom had arrived safely. I was too wired to finish unpacking. I dragged a chair under the window, turning it so I could face outside at the sloping, overgrown back garden and stream surrounded by wilderness, the tops of the mountains hidden in the mist.
I placed the violin against my chin and drew the bow across the strings, wishing I could use it to saw off Dorien’s stupid gorgeous neck.
I pushed through the pain in my stomach as I launched into a fast piece, building a tremolo with my wrist on the upper part of the bow, then moving to the middle until the bow began to bounce. The harder I pressed, the more the bow bounced, and the faster I could play. My head bobbed as I kept time, the screaming notes echoing the pain gasping at my belly.
This is how I should have played for Master Radcliffe. If Dorien Valencourt hadn’t sabotaged me.
As I played, my eyes flicked to the window. The woods, branches reaching toward the house like outstretched hands, waited to grab me and welcome me. It was the kind of woods that appeared in a children’s picture book – like the illustrations in an old copy ofGrimm’s Fairy Talesmy father gave me – filled with scary monsters and yellow eyes that watched you.
I shook off the melancholy thoughts.I think the scary monsters are inside the house—
Wait, who’s that?
A figure stalked across the lawn, heading for the trees. A lighter flickered, and a curl of smoke circled a head of straight black hair. I recognized stylized tattoos on her bare shoulders.Aroha.
I wonder where she’s going?
I itched to go after her, if for no other reason than to bum a cigarette. Behind me, my alarm buzzed.
Fuck.Have two hours gone by already?I grabbed my things and headed down to the kitchen. No time for cigarettes when you had rich cockpoodles to serve.
Chapter Nine
Ivan
“What do you think of the new girl?” I slouched into Dorien’s room and tapped the door shut with my foot. Titus was already there, kicking off the wall so he could spin the desk chair around in fast circles.He’s far too large a person to be so energetic all the time.
Dorien looked up from where he was draped across his bed, his eyes flashing.
“You’re late.”
“Elena’s lesson ran over.” Dorien didn’t ask why I was sitting in on my sister’s private class, or why I couldn’t leave her there alone. He didn’t have to, and I appreciated that. Dorien may be amagar, but he kept my secrets like they were his own. I threw myself on the end of the bed, picking at a loose thread on the embroidered border. “What’s the verdict on Miss de Winter?”
“Terrible violinist, but eminently fuckable.” Titus scooted the chair over to the window and lifted the sash as high as it could go. He leaned outside and lit up a joint. Smoke curled around his lips as he held it out to me.
I shook my head. I needed that weed to get Faye de Winter out of my head, but Elena hated it and she’d smell it on me. “I agree.”
“I wouldn’t put my dick in that. You don’t know where it’s been.” Dorien scooted to the corner of the bed and leaned toward the window, grabbing the joint from Titus and taking a deep drag.
I didn’t like the look in Dorien’s eyes. He’d had the same look the night he handed me those plane tickets in Prague – the night he fucked our lives forever. It was the same murderous rage that burned bright as the police took him away for questioning after Clare’s fall.
Watching Faye’s face as she struggled through the Vivaldi should have brought me satisfaction. It was going to be too easy to break her, to go on with our lives. But all I felt was a dull ache in my gut. It was an ache borne of failure – in her eyes shone the defiance that coursed through my veins back in Prague, an echo of the man I might have been. Now I’d sold my soul to the devil to save my sister, and made both of us slaves. Not even the music was doing it for me these days. I made myself numb because numb was the only way to get through this, to reconcile the things I had to do.
Nothing made me feel anything except Elena’s smile. I’d do anything to see that smile.
“You’ve met her before, right?” Titus took the joint from Dorien and curled his fat lips around it, swiping a cornrow out of his face. “You used to have lessons with her.”
“Back when my parents were crass enough to let me hang around with plebs, yeah.” Dorien leaned back on the bed and folded his arms behind his head. “She was mediocre then, too.”
