Page 140 of Kingmakers, Year Three

“Yes,” the groundskeeper says in an almost-apologetic tone.

He was no rougher than he needed to be, holding me back while Penmark had his fun. Actually, now that I’m really looking at him, his brown hair and close-cropped beard are vaguely familiar to me—he might have been friends with Miles once upon a time.

He stoops to take Dean’s arm over his shoulder so he can help support his weight. I try to do the same on the other side, though I’m too short to be of much use.

“Thanks, Brenner,” Dean groans. “Why’d they have to bring Penmark in for that? He’s such an asshole.”

“Agreed,” Brenner grunts. “It’s one thing to do a job, another to enjoy it.”

We hobble off in the direction of the infirmary, moving slowly so we don’t jolt Dean too much.

He’s weak and reeling, but not in terrible spirits.

“I don’t know what they’re making such a fuss about,” he says. “Nobody liked Rocco anyway.”

“I sure didn’t,” Brenner mutters. “After all, I’m the one that had to clean him up.”

30

DEAN

That fucking dickhole Penmark really fucked up my back, and now I have to lay in the infirmary bored as hell.

I’m missing all my boxing training AND the last event in theQuartum Bellum.I have to hear about it second-hand when Cat comes to visit me.

“It was a shooting challenge with stationary and moving targets.”

“Did we win?”

“Of course.” She grins.

“Fuckin’ Leo.” I shake my head. “He always wins. It’s not even exciting anymore, just takes all the surprise out of it.”

“It’s so tedious being an eternal champion, isn’t it?” Cat laughs.

As she tilts her head to smile at me, I see a glint of scarlet in the hollow of her throat. The necklace I gave her—restored to its rightful place.

My heart burns as bright as that stone.

“Was Claire Turgenev disappointed?” I ask her.

“It was actually really close. She’s a fantastic Captain, too. I’m sure she was upset, but she shook Leo’s hand, all classy and kind.”

“Fuck being classy,” I say. “I like to gloat.”

“Maybe I will, too,” Cat laughs, “if I ever win anything.”

Snow pops his head through the infirmary door.

“Hey,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

“Great. Ready to be back in class.”

“Good,” he grunts. “I have a lot of mats that need cleaning. Towels that need washing . . .”

“You know I’m only helpful when I need advice.”

He nods to Cat. “Will you break up with him again so he’ll be useful?”

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