Chapter 29
29
T eague parades me through the front doors and down a hallway to the left, just under the enormous staircase in the foyer. It’s like I’ve left my brain in a pile on the drive. I can’t do anything but tag along after Teague like some Equestrian Barbie on a string.
Windows rattle as the front door slams, and know immediately who is stomping up behind us.
Acting as if he can’t hear the approaching storm, Teague knocks once on a wooden door before opening it. Without waiting for an answer, he opens it and I’m pushed—not unkindly—into the startled presence of Clara. She’s mid-downward dog. I note dispassionately that her butt really looks amazing from all of this yoga.
“Helena!” She flops down and twists around. Her eyes widen as they fall on Teague’s linked hand in mine. “And…”
“This has been absolutely fun,” Teague says, with a nod to me. He unlinks our hands and turns to Clara. “Teague. Really wish I could stay.” I note his eyes stray to Clara’s tight yoga pants and cropped top. “Had I known yoga would be this fun… alas. Duty calls.”
He tips an imaginary hat to us as Kendall’s voice bellows, “Teague!” in the hallway.
Teague slips out of the door and pulls it mostly shut behind him as rapid footfalls approach. “Manners, my good man. Yelling isn’t All Saints conduct,” he says in a dry tone.
Clara’s eyes dart from me to the door, and I move away from it.
“What the fuck is going on?” She asks, clearly at a loss.
“Honestly? I have no idea. Teague and I were practicing—singing. For choir.” I explain at her confused look.
“On your…tour of the grounds?”
“Okay, back up. Yes, I went on a tour, but then I ran into Augustine, and it was really weird and uncomfortable, but then Teague saved me and to complete our excuse?—”
We pause as outside the door, voices rise in anger again. We can’t properly eavesdrop from where we’re at, so both of us creep closer to the cracked door.
“—absolutely out of bounds, and you know it!” Kendall says. He thinks he’s being quiet, but he’s not. “This is just another stunt, like you hanging out with that Beatrice girl all term. You know it’s not allowed! I don’t have to keep quiet, you know. There could be repercussions.”
“What do you Americans say? Chill, man,” replies Teague. “Helena was having trouble walking on the pavement. I was just making sure she made it back into the house?—”
“You were not . You were fucking with me on purpose. Leave her alone. Leave her and Clara alone.”
Cue the pissing circles around anything he thinks of as his. Which includes me now, and apparently still Clara. I roll my eyes.
Clara flashes me a questioning look. “What are they talking about?” She mouths.
I’m about to explain, but Teague’s next words stop me in my tracks.
“Ah, Kendall, mate. You know I’ll have to touch them, eventually. Training, and all that.”
Now it’s my turn to toss Clara a WTF look.
“You. Will. Not.” Kendall growls the words, now not even seeming to care what level his voice reaches. “My father?—”
“Your father may not always be in charge, and then where will you be?” Teague replies, ever calm, cool and collected. There’s silence. “Ah, yes, you think I don’t know, but I know. I know enough to guess the rest, even why you’re really interested in?—”
There’s a scuffling noise, and a grunt. “Keep your mouth shut, and your hands to yourself,” Kendall says. He’s slightly out of breath and I guess he’s pushed Teague up against the wall.
Teague laughs roughly, and the wall shakes slightly. “I look forward to your efforts in stopping me,” he taunts. “My life has been far too dull for my taste.”
We hear footsteps departing. A moment later, there are more footsteps going the opposite way.
“What—who—was that ?” Clara asks once we’re sure we’re alone.
“Kendall’s roommate, Teague,” I say with a shrug. “Apparently, they don’t like each other much.”
“I guess ,” she agrees. “But what was that bit about…training? What do you think they will train us to do?”
I frown at her and say, “I don’t know. Maybe comportment? Or...” I hesitate about revealing what I’ve learned. “I mean, I think this whole thing operates by trading favors. My honest guess is that they will train us to be useful to the organization in some way.”
Her blue eyes narrow in distaste. “Like as a spy or something?” She gasps. “You don’t think we’ll have to be assassins, do you? I don’t do well with blood.”
I’m not sure how sinister this gets, but it’s possible. My silence is unsettling for her. “So why were you holding hands with?—”
“Teague?” I turn and look out the window, where we can see his form walking back down the driveway. “Not my choice. He did it to piss off Kendall.”
This is dancing dangerously close to a subject I do not want to cover with Clara. Why would it piss off Kendall for me to hold hands with Teague? I can’t have her questions. “He knows Kendall is a stickler for the rules.”
“Hm.” She eyes me.
“Kendall is so easy to piss off. Honestly, I don’t blame Teague for pushing his buttons if he has to live with him. Can you imagine?”
“He’s not always like that. He was…never…like that. Before.” Clara’s voice is quiet.
I nod. “I didn’t know him well in high school, but yeah.”
“He’s gotten worse since he’s been here. But it’s…” she shrugs. “Is it weird to say that I think this is who he was all along? It’s almost like the calm, cool boy I knew has vanished. That it was an act.” And now there are tears swimming in her eyes. “I feel so stupid. I basically followed him here, and now…” she waves around as she hiccups. “Sorry. It’s just… I spent so much time envisioning marrying him. And now I realize I had no idea what that would have been like. What his family was like. What college would be like. And now.”
“And now,” I agree. I’m still staring out the window.
“You like him,” Clara says with an abrupt shift of focus. I’m terrified that she means Kendall and I whip my head to her, ready to defend myself to my last dying breath. But she motions out the window to where Teague is walking. “I’ve seen you watching him.”
“I don’t really know him,” I scoff. But I think back to those quiet, stolen moments in the library. That cozy, close feeling, how easy it was to talk and joke with him. His arms. How his long legs looked propped on a desk. And how now I kind of picture what it would be like, sitting on the edge of that desk while he ran his long fingers down my arm, up my neck and into my hair.
“You’re blushing,” Clara crows.
“I’m not allowed to like anyone.”
She’s silent. “Fair. Is he here for the same reason we are? Initiation? I haven’t seen him at our meetings.”
I shrug, and turn away from the window. “He’s been at a few meetings, but I think he’s older. He’s in All Souls College…maybe he didn’t get a contact the first time around? I think that’s possible. Let’s finish yoga, and then we have a formal lunch. That means showers and makeup.”
Clara doesn’t argue. She just watches me strip down to my bra and leggings, then pushes play on the iPad with the yoga class on it. Thirty minutes later, I do feel more clearheaded as I head to my room.
Clara and I part ways on each side of the bathroom, then meet again in the palatial room between ours. “This is epic,” she breathes.
It’s set up like a mini sauna spa with two huge soaking tubs on one wall and a colossal steam shower taking over the opposite short wall. Wooden benches line the wall next to our individual vanities…it’s probably possible to use the steam shower to turn the entire bathroom into a steam sauna.
“Epically expensive ,” I grouse, tossing my makeup bag on one of the white marble vanities. “It’s way too big.”
“Maybe because it’s shared?” She says, eyeing an honest-to-God marble statue in a corner.
“Yeah, but why not split it up and make it two private baths? Most people don’t want to shower with their neighbor.”
She proves my point when she starts running the water in the shower. With the press of a button, the glass becomes opaque, and we both breathe a sigh of relief. “This whole place is a bit voyeuristic, isn’t it?” She asks. “I mean, I’m all for saunas, but…”
I try for logic. “Europeans are different. Less body conscious? I’ll let you shower and then I will. I need to put in a hair mask anyhow.”
She’s already unwinding her long blond hair from the bun and nodding.
I undress quickly, sliding into a silk robe hanging next to my mirror. Opening the door, I step back into my room, intending to grab my toiletry kit but stop dead.
On my desk is a single white flower, a gorgeous white lily. A card sits under the perfectly crisp, bright green stem.
This wasn’t in my room moments ago when I went in to the bathroom, was it? I cross to my door and give it a firm tug. The old-fashioned lock holds firm. Still locked. I turn back to the room, surveying it. Nothing else is amiss.
Maybe Aoeife has the key to my room? And she delivered this to me? I grab the note off my desk and turn it over.
In handwriting I don’t recognize, it simply says: I look forward to seeing you tonight .
In my ears, my heartbeat rushes. I look back down at the flower. Is this what happens when you have a potential sponsor? My other options are Aoife, Kendall or Teague? Someone who knows where my room is, and someone who is, apparently, looking forward to seeing me tonight.
Unbidden, I think of the white flower tucked in Augustine’s lapels, and my stomach turns. Surely a coincidence.
I step back into the bathroom and lock the door firmly before taking my own shower. Twists upon twists, turns upon turns. I’m not sure I even know who I hope the flower is from, I just know who I hope it’s not.