“No. I didn’t. How do you?”
She lowers her sunglasses and arches an eyebrow at me, giving me a look that has a name:Dickie.
“The Coppers could replace the entire emergency alert system with that boy’s mouth and a megaphone, and he’d still get the news out faster,” Charlotte mutters.
A Pinkie passes, and she goes quiet until it’s out of range. Then she leans forward, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“According to Big Mouth, Edmund and Irene used to be close. Not childhood friends close, but enough that Edmund liked her, and Irene… well, Big Mouth says it was always more than that for her. They first met a few years back at some party—his cousin’s birthday, I think.”
“Was this before Irene got engaged to the other Blue?” I ask.
Charlotte chews a pickled onion from her Gibson. “Nope. Apparently, Irene was promised to that guy since forever—some arrangement cooked up by her parents before she could spell her own name. But then the fiancé died. Big Mouth didn’t give details. Just said some people think he offed himself to get out of marrying Irene.” Charlotte sips her cocktail as if toasting the dead man’s escape.
I frown. “Seriously?”
“Oh, yeah. And that’s when the circus rolled into town. The second Irene’s fiancé was out of the picture, she and her parents quietly cut a deal with Phillipa to replace him with Edmund.”
Charlotte pauses, running a finger along the rim of her glass, her face suddenly weary. “It all went down right after Jack and I broke up, so I missed the worst of it. But Big Mouth says Edmund was pissed—refused the deal outright. That’s when Irene really started cooking with gas. She’d already promised to sell Edmund his grandfather’s flight jacket, but once she needed leverage, she tore off the price tag. She told him he could only have it if he married her instead.”
I glance toward the poker table, at the two of them sitting there, and the whole scene tilts. What I thought I saw… isn’t what I’m seeing now.
Charlotte leans back, her smile cutting sideways. “I forget sometimes how screwed Blues have it. Even if Edmund and Irene were actually in love, that wouldn’t be why they’d get married. It’s all family mergers. Empire math shit.”
I know what she means. Irene might like Edmund, but the real reason her parents pushed for the marriage is that they’re counting on her to carry their name up the ladder. That’s why, even now—when Edmund clearly hates her—Irene is still holding on, maybe hoping that, with time, he’ll come to feel the same about her.
“Anyway.” Charlotte tosses back the rest of her Gibson. “That’s why Edmund looks at her like something he can’t scrape off his boot. After she blackmailed him for the flight jacket, that’s what she became.”
It’s what I’ll become, too, once I tell Edmund the truth about Charles.
I glance back at the table and see him watching me, his expression concerned, as if he’s wondering whether I’m okay. I force the most convincing smile I can and hold it until he turns his focus to the Blue trial. Then I press my fingers to one of my teardrop earrings, gripping the edges until they bite into my skin. Suddenly, the room feels unbearably hot.
“I’m gonna get some air,” I say.
Charlotte gestures toward the television, barely visible behind the Coppers hunched around it. “Don’t you want to stay for the verdict? Bogart says it’s dropping any minute now.”
“I’ll watch on my Bond.”
“Suit yourself.” Charlotte flags down a Pinkie and orders another Gibson. “Text me when Dickie gets here. He just messaged. Says he’s on his way.”
“What took him so long?”
“Claims he lost track of time. Playing some video game.”
I nod, already knowing it was Highball. “I’ll let you know when he’s here.”
Then I slip out, heading for the deck.
Night has fallen, but the area is far from dark. The Luminescent Lake emits an eerie phosphorescent glow across the moored yachts and the students gathered along the shoreline. Champagne corks pop, chairs unfold with a snap, and laughter drifts over the water as everyone prepares for the fireworks.
I move to the railing and grip it, the ache in my chest deepening. Dad always says there’s no use banging your head against the wall over things you can’t change, but this time, I can’t help it. I’d give anything to takeback that final blow. When I struck Charles with my saber, I didn’t realize I was striking Edmund, too.
I lean over the railing and press my head into my hands. My fingers work to knead the tension from my temples, but it doesn’t ease. Everything Charlotte said echoes, reshaping the night. I exhale slowly, trying to force the images away, when I hear a sharp, muffled sound out of place amid the laughter.
I stand still until I hear the sound again, echoing from near the hot tubs. I step away from the railing and walk across the deck, the soles of my sandals whispering against the planks. When I round the corner, I spot Rosamund, half-shadowed behind the gauze curtain of a cabana. I didn’t even see her come up.
Her monkey perches on the rim of one of the hot tubs, tail twitching as it urinates lazily into the water. “Hurry up, Cary,” Rosamund whispers, her stiletto tapping a frantic rhythm. “Jack iswaitingfor me, and he—”
She stops, though not like she meant to. More like the words turned foreign the second they hit the air, and she’s only just realized how absurd they sound.
