Page 89 of Kingmakers, Year Three

A long silence follows in which I think my father might have hung up on me. Then he says, very coldly, “And look what a love match got me.”

“Just me,” I say bitterly. “Your son.”

“Exactly,” my father says, and he does end the call, without a word of goodbye.

I’m breathing so hard I think I might be sick.

I slam the receiver down, then snatch it up again and hit the display with it over and over, until the plastic splinters and half the numeric pads pop off.

Then I stalk out of the Keep, walking so fast I’m almost running, my head a churning storm of fury and my fists clenched at my sides.

I don’t know where I’m going until I pass the old wine cellar leading down to the Undercroft. I wrench open its door, descending the dark steps into the earth.

Jasper Webb passes me in the hallway, skeleton hands tucked in his pockets. He gives me a friendly nod, which I ignore, in favor of hammering on Cat’s door.

She opens it a moment later, looking drowsy and startled. She must have been sleeping in. Her hair is a bird’s nest and she’s wearing an oversized t-shirt with nothing underneath. Even in this state of fury, I feel my cock twitching in my pants at the sight of her small, bra-less breasts loose under the shirt, and her bare legs extending beneath its waffled hem.

“Dean?” she says, confused. “What is it?”

“Do you want to go to the dance with me?” I say.

“The Christmas dance?” Cat asks, as if there’s another one.

“Yes,” I hiss, impatient and already regretting this.

Regretting it because . . . if she says no, I’m going to have to burn this whole school to the ground.

Cat hesitates.

The seconds stretch out torturously. I’m about to abandon this whole idea and leave when at last she says, very softly, “That would be nice.”

I search her face, trying to see if she really means that.

Cat has grown up a lot in the time I’ve known her, but right now she looks just as young and scared as she did on the very first day of school.

“Alright,” I say gruffly. “See you tonight, then.”

“See you tonight,” she whispers.

I leave, my guts still churning with anger.

But maybe just a little bit less than before.

16

CAT

It’s Christmas Eve.

I’m dressing for the dance with Anna, Chay, and Rakel.

We’re in Anna and Chay’s dorm room, which is one of the largest and prettiest in the Solar, where all the female Heirs have their rooms. They have a stunning view over the cliffs straight down to the dark, rolling ocean.

Anna’s battered ballet slippers dangle from the footboard of her bed, and several of Chay’s tattoo designs hang on the walls. Chay’s a master of classic pin-up style, as evidenced by the large Bettie Page portrait on her right thigh.

On Chay’s nightstand sits an 8x10 photograph of her and Ozzy riding four-wheelers, both of them covered in mud, only recognizable by the white slashes of their smiles as they laugh together.

Rakel and Chay are poring over each other’s substantial makeup kits, while Anna unwinds her waist-length blonde hair from a thousand straw curlers.

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