Kingston’s blue-gray eyes met mine, but I couldn’t read the emotion in them, and I couldn’t stand it.
My parting words echoed between us as he let his father’s men drag me away.
I willnotyield.
Kingston
From where I stood beside my father, I watched them carefully. Quinn, doing her best to rein in her reactions. Max, throwing the whole room for a loop with his reaction to Vivian’s announcement. And Landon.
Concern knit my brow each time I glanced at him.
As my father ran through the results of the Camelot Society Quorum vote, which began with Max Dread emphatically votingin favorof tradition, I questioned my hold on the board.
Not for the first time, I wondered how far things had gotten out of my hands.
Unfortunately for Max, the others voted against the statute in the by-laws. Everyone but Peter Valencourt, Dax Draconis, and Ben Devereaux voted to see it removed, the antiquated rule that would eliminate half the competition.
Percy was furious, but it didn’t matter.
My father was furious, too.
Thatdid matter.
He wouldn’t show it, and neither could I, but a tremor ran through my hand as I brushed it down my suit.
Landon’s head turned, spotting the movement, and his eyes narrowed briefly before they glassed over.
He stared without seeing, as if lost somewhere other than here. Lost in the past? In a memory I still couldn’t decide if I wanted him to remember?
Or lost beyond that.
Lost, at least to me, once a different memory returned. He might hate me. He might not forgive me, but?—
No.
It didn’t matter how the memories came back. I would do what I’d promised that night in his room. Everything in my power to see him through it.
He wouldn’t yield then.
Now, neither would I.
For either of them.
My father’s anger over the Round Tableau’s vote meant he wasn’t done with Quinn Everly yet, and the vote that followed to move the Alumni Weekend to the same time as the Final Trial concerned me in more ways than one.
Last year, false information had been given to Morty, who passed it on to the Maidens.
This year, the Camelot Society wasn’t planning to take any chances.
They’d kill to get their way.
I’d stop at nothing to protect the three of them, but Max’s ties to the Valencourts were throwing wrench after wrench into my carefully laid plans. I couldn’t predict the outcome of the game, which meant the only question was: If history repeated…
Who would fall to save Camelot?
Chapter Nine
Two challenges ago, I would’ve written the bastard off and been done with it.
