Chapter Twenty
Alexandr Miroslav
I hadn’t realized how quickly time was passing at Castle Hill, because all I felt I could show for it was Scott Kensington’s heavy eye bags, purple and bruised, and his unkept appearance.
I wouldn't consider King’s concern for his brother a plus, as the cleverer of the two seemed to be more suspicious than worried.
Almost paranoid.
He was becoming restless, I could tell. Waiting for this spiteful husk of a spectacle to reveal themselves and confess their motive.
Well, I also had my growing knowledge to show for it. I felt that because my mind had been so void of a proper education, it was able to absorb Castle Hill’s sea of information without too much struggle.
I say that while also trying to ignore the increasing chance of cancer with every night spent studying and smoking.
On the other hand, Rain wasn’t as occupied with the progress of Scott as she was with my, as she likes to call it, day-of-death. Which just so happens to be today.
I’d already gone over this with the Society once, but it seems more rehearsing was in order.
“What will you say if he asks about the board?”
I sighed, the words coming before my mind could catch up. “Wouldn’t you know more than me? Considering your father holds a seat?”
“And if he asks for your reasons for joining?”
“I’ve a newfound passion for art, namely, theatre.”
Rain nodded, pleased with my answers, before her browns dipped again. “I’m not sure.”
Wolf threw his hands up and turned away in exasperation. Reaching his limit faster than even myself.
Watching Wolf and Rain even slightly acknowledge each other was always uncanny, even more so when those slight acknowledgements turned into curt conversations.
They seem to be at an impasse now, unable to relax further in each other’s presence, yet having warmed up enough to dispel any alien tension from the room.
Paris laid a hand on my shoulder, as if to vouch.
“He’ll be perfectly fine. Callum may hold power under the umbrella of his name, but we know very well why his father hadn’t appointed him to the Society.
I’m sure he feels it as well.” Paris leaned over to meet my eyes and said, “Use that. However, don't be blatant.”
I nodded, heeding her words as valued ones before turning my attention back to Rain. “Cleared your conscience?”
Rain didn’t speak for a moment, letting her silent concerns fill the room before parting her lips. “Hmm. We’ve yet to see.”
I stood and straightened my uniform jacket, shooing the seven out of my dorm. “I’m not letting you all roam freely while I’m gone.” I clapped Wolf on the shoulder with a well-concealed smirk that he was sure to sniff out. “Perhaps Wolf will allow you all to take up residence in his dorm.”
He grumbled away the insinuation and quickly scurried back to his dorm, shutting the door with an answer in his gesture, as we watched him like a safari tour animal.
That damn dorm.
Paris scrunched her brows and looked to Rain. “Was it something you said?”
Rain shot her a glare before exiting through the door he’d left open, the click of her heels fading down the hall.
Slowly, thankfully, as the nerves I’d been ignoring came back with the lack of distraction, the rest filtered out.
Ajax groaned up from where he’d made a home on my bed with August sitting on the edge. The two, suspiciously quiet, left without so much as a goodbye.
For a brief moment, I wondered if this peaceful meeting was due to their last outing in regard to Scott Kensington.
Perhaps King was smarter than Rain had anticipated.
I stopped that thought before it could develop. King, as Rain had confirmed, would not stick his neck out for his brother to any concerning extent. For now, we should only focus on deteriorating the poor boy’s sanity.
Her network stretched far, and even now, I didn’t exactly grasp the full extent of the Abbot Council. As if shadowed knights at their queen’s beck and call, and despite my cynicism, I placed my faith in them.
Preparing to head out, I told myself to check in on both of them when I was finished, already anticipating another unofficial meeting.
“Alexandr?”
I paused under the threshold at the soft voice, turning to find the easily concealable Marigold Walter still inside my dorm. My shoulders would have tensed had I been sure that everything of importance was well-hidden. I tilted my head back. “Goldie.”
The nickname rolled off my tongue since Paris uttered it a week ago.
She smiled, albeit her lips stretching in a slightly strained manner. “I just–… Callum trusts Coldwell. I think you should work on replacing him first before focusing on Callum.”
I blinked at her words–not that she was completely useless. No, Marigold reminded me of the words: say something useful or do not say anything at all.
But they were few and far, so much so that I’d often forget they were ever said.
“Why is that?” I asked.
I knew very little of Coldwell. When I started to notice him, I could only see that he kept to himself and sat with Callum’s crew in the Dining Hall. He could often be found whispering in Callum’s ear despite Ayana’s second status.
Marigold shrugged. “... Coldwell plays an important role in every decision Callum makes, essentially. I’m sure you’ve noticed. If you want to play as an insider, get rid of Coldwell first.”
The advice was the best I’d gotten concerning the hierarchy of the Queen’s Club and I wondered why Rain hadn’t been the one to disclose it to me, given her wariness in the success of my actions.
I smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.” I moved to continue out before remembering something. “Thank you, Marigold.”
Her smile turned genuine, and I waited a beat before understanding filled her eyes and red filled her cheeks.
“Anytime.” She said and shuffled out of my dorm after me.
“Marigold.” I called out after her when she’d made it halfway down the hall, and as she turned with wide eyes, I sent her a single nod in gratitude. “Really. Thank you.”
I didn't need to understand what she’d mumbled back before continuing on her way–I was sure it was something similar to what she’d said moments ago.
Stepping out under the rare sun helped dampen the icy November air, and it was only a few minute’s walk of dry leaves crunching under my shoes down the main path away from the Quarters until I reached the theatre.
As expected, Callum was spotted in the third row of the theatre with a script in hand, watching the act play on in a dramatic darkness that seemed to set the mood of our impending conversation.
“Queen,” I started. Moving down the row towards him as he slid his eyes from the ongoing play to me in a slow and measured move. Almost as if he were expecting me.
“Ah,” he spoke lowly, his white hair coming off darker than it would under natural light. “Miroslav. I’ve been waiting for Ayana’s offer to provide something of worth.”
I took a seat, leaving one between us, and chose my words carefully. “It was merely my curiosity that led me here.”
The side of his lip quirked up in a barely-there smile, though not reaching his eyes. “As I’m sure was the motive for everyone in here. Strange thing–curiosity. Enticing as it is dangerous.”
“Is that the motto of the Queen’s Club?”
A chuckle rattled his chest as he leaned forward and placed his arms over the seat in front of him, the worn script hanging limply in both hands. “No. No, it’s actually Carpe Noctem. Latin for seize the night.”
I hummed. “Very theatrical.”
He tilted his head side to side, eyes never leaving the tragedy playing out in front of him. “Eh. We are, in fact, a theatrical club. As you can see.”
I did see. The girl on stage performs a stellar, blood-curdling scream as her supposed lover lies limp in her arms, taking me only slightly by surprise. Her sobs felt real, and I almost felt the need to stand and applaud.
A memory of Callum pushing a poor boy off the stage for suggesting Romeo and Juliet came back to me as I watched the scene in front of me unfold.
It really wasn’t as far off as he’d made it out to be.
“Juliet crying for her Romeo?”
Callum made a sound of disgust that sounded as if it came from a deeper part of him. “I wouldn’t lower myself to dignify such a play on my stage.”
I didn’t understand his hatred with such a tale. It was overdone, I’ll admit, but it was still ultimately a classic.
“I wouldn't know why. What with my subpar knowledge of theatre. As I’m sure you know.”
Callum seemed to understand what I was implying, as he tilted his head back to me and winked. “If you wish to join the Queen’s Club, you need only ask. I’ll whip you up to shape in record time.”
I didn’t let it show that I wanted to bristle at his condescending tone. We both knew he’d been the one to extend an invitation. “The Queen’s Club is… interesting, I’ll hand you that. But why would I take Ayana’s word for it? Well, your words. What’s in it for me?”
Callum grinned, all teeth like a shark swimming quick and swift towards its prey. “I think my members will find you refreshing to be around.”
I tilted my head and appeared hurt. “Is that all I am to you?”
Another chuckle rumbled his chest. “Don’t be cheeky, it’s unbecoming. I only wish for you to see what Castle Hill truly has to offer. Everyone wants a place to belong, and being a part of the study body doesn’t ensure that, as I’m sure you know.”
He was right, I suppose. Castle Hill, or rather its students, didn’t take pride in showing loyalty to their peers. It was these groups that their devoted allegiance belonged to and will remain to until it ceases to benefit them.
“Alright, Callum. I’ll bite. I’ll join the Queen’s Club that you so insistently wish for me to do. You need only tell me my role. You are, after all, the president.”
He returned back to the play in front of him and sighed. “Flattery can only open so many doors.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t indulge in such practices unless it's useful.”