11. Quinn

11

QUINN

" O h, poor Quinn. I heard what happened. Have you recovered from being stranded at sea?"

I stopped at the sound of the sweet voice, dripping in honeyed faux sympathy, and gritted my teeth. The stone corridor was almost empty, rain battering against the tall, leaded windows that ran down one side, the sound drowning out any other, more distant noises. Ahead of me, one of the carved columns that Hatherley Hall seemed to have in abundance cast a long, dark shadow across the stone floor.

We were alone.

Slowly turning, I met Freya's gaze directly, refusing to give her the satisfaction of realising that her words had affected me.

"Freya." I gave her a smile just as fake as the one she'd given me. "I'm all recovered. Thank you for your concern."

"It's a shame Roman was more interested in drinking than playing the hero. What were you doing on that boat with him, anyway? You surely didn't think you could hold his interest, did you?"

As much as I hated it, pain lanced through me at her words. Roman had changed so much from the boy I'd once known. Or maybe this had always been his true self, and the side I'd seen had been nothing but a facade.

"Why don't you ask him if you're so interested in what we were doing on the boat? I don't owe you any answers."

"Stay away from Roman," she hissed as I spun on my heel, done with being bitched at for something that hadn't even been my choice to begin with. I stopped dead, seeing Penelope standing right behind me. How long had she been there?

Her eyes flicked to Freya, then back to me. Gently squeezing my arm, she moved past me, mouthing, Sorry , as she did so. "Freya, come on. That's enough," she chided gently. "Why don't we go and find Roman? He's been asking where you were."

Of course he had .

Penelope shot me another apologetic look as she led Freya away, and I got it. She was feeling guilty, but she shouldn't. Freya was her friend, as was I, and I wouldn't make her pick between the two of us.I'd even hoped—naively—that Freya and I would be able to put our past behind us and become at least civil, but I guess I should have known better. We were both part of the elite—she always had been, and I'd slotted back into my place when I'd returned to Hatherley Hall—but that wasn't enough to put aside our differences.

Left alone, I did my best to push away all thoughts of what might happen when Freya found Roman, probably "comforting" him, aka using any excuse to drape herself all over him. I shifted my bag higher on my shoulder and continued towards the library, where I'd been heading when Freya had intercepted me. As soon as the heavy doors closed behind me and a blanket of silence descended, I felt like I could breathe again. It was so hard to put on a front. It wasn't something I was used to. Maybe once, but I'd been away from England for so long I'd forgotten what it was like in Hatherley Hall. These students could sense weakness like sharks scenting blood in the water, and just like sharks, they'd bite.

Wandering through the tall stacks, I breathed in the scent of books and polished wood, feeling the rest of my tension drain away. When I'd located the textbook I needed for my history project, I settled at a table in one of the farthest corners of the library. Dust motes swirled in the air, dimly illuminated by the soft golden glow of the lamp in the corner. Outside, the skies were dark and angry, rain still lashing at the windows, but it was warm and cosy inside.

After opening my essay file on my laptop, I set it aside in favour of taking notes in my notepad. For a while, I managed to lose myself in the history and legends of ancient Greece, engrossed in accounts of graffiti found on buildings and statues.

As I turned the page of my textbook to a new chapter, a shadow fell across my notepad, and I glanced up to see a golden head of hair and a face that was uncharacteristically serious.

"Can I have a word?" Tristan didn't wait for a reply, just spun around the chair next to me and straddled it, his eyes on mine. His knees were almost touching the side of my chair.

"Haven't you heard of personal space?"

He grinned. "Not according to your friend Aria, no. How is our little scorpion doing, anyway?"

"Scorpion? Excuse me?"

Tapping the large colour image on the open page of my textbook with his index finger, he nodded. "That. The scorpion was sent to slay Orion, if I remember correctly. Let's see…scorpions scuttle around brandishing their claws, and if you're not careful, they sting the fuck out of you. Suits her, right?"

" No . What do you want, Tristan?"

He ignored my question, continuing. "Bet she wished she'd come with us at the weekend."

"Maybe if she had, I wouldn't have been left in a fucking boat all night," I bit out, tearing my gaze away from his and doing my best to focus on my open textbook. The words swam in front of my eyes, and I hated that one of the so-called gods was getting a front-row view of my weakness.

Tristan cleared his throat, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him shift in his seat. I'd made him uncomfortable. Good. "Quinn. That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Roman swears he doesn't remember leaving you on the boat. Not until the next day, when we asked him if he'd seen you. I dunno, he must've got blackout drunk. It's not an excuse, but?—"

Anger burned through me, and I welcomed it. I twisted to face him, baring my teeth, taking satisfaction in the way his brows flew up, his eyes widening. "Do you know what? He was one hundred percent fucking sober when he left me on that boat, Tristan. And I spent the whole night panicking that he'd drowned. You don't even want to know what went through my mind, the scenarios I tortured myself with. And yet, he decided to go back to the lighthouse and rejoin the party without a care in the world. That's beyond callous. That…that's hateful. I will never, ever forgive him for that, nor should I have to. Don't you dare come here making excuses for him. There are no excuses that can ever make what he did okay."

Tristan slumped back in his seat. "Yeah," he said eventually. "Yeah." With a sigh, he rose to his feet. "For what it's worth, I don't condone what he did."

"I don't want to hear it. Please, just leave me alone. All I want to do now is finish up this school year and forget Roman Cavendish ever existed." Picking up my pen, I began scribbling notes down…notes that made no sense, but it gave me something to focus on. I would've fallen apart otherwise. Soft footsteps retreated, and then I was alone again.