Page 118 of Kingmakers, Year Two

One of thefew classes I enjoyed at Kingmakers, right from the beginning, is Stealth and Infiltration. In that class it’s an advantage to be small and insignificant, easy to overlook. Even Professor Burrows is a short and trim man, with a quiet, carefully cultivated British accent, and a plain, unremarkable face. The only thing memorable about him is his strangely tiny, baby-like teeth, that only reveal themselves on the rare occasion when he smirks at his own joke.

Professor Burrows has been teaching us how to stalk our quarry without being noticed.

“The first step is research,” he tells us. “You should have a good idea of where your subject is going before they ever leave the house. If your intent is to follow them to an unknown locale, keep your distance, monitor their position via indirect sources such as window reflections, and be prepared to alter your appearanceen route. Caps, sunglasses, and reversible jackets can be of use.”

When I start following Rocco Prince on campus, I try to make use of all Professor Burrow’s tips. I borrow one of Rakel’s beanies to cover my hair, and I slip in and out of my academy jacket. I hide behind stacks of textbooks in the library and beefy Enforcers in the dining hall. I remember the Professor’s directive not to follow behind the subject at all times, but rather to walk on parallel or diagonal pathways, to sometimes overtake and sometimes pause out of sight.

Rocco is a predator with finely-honed instincts. If I even look at him too long, his head jerks up and his cold blue eyes sweep around, searching for the source of that prickling along the back of his neck, that sixth-sense that he’s being observed.

But he doesn’t see me. Because I’ve learned how to hide behind pillars and in the shadow of stairwells, how to sit perfectly still without flinching, my face turned down to a book, even while his gaze passes over me.

Everyone knows when Rocco learns of the dissolution of his engagement, because he destroys the dorm room he shares with Dax Volker. He smashes up the furniture, rips the mattresses apart, even throws a chair through his own window. For that little tantrum, his family is fined and he’s forced to suffer the humiliation of working on the grounds crew for two weeks.

I expect him to retaliate against Miles and Zoe immediately, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t so much as speak to Zoe, which she sees as a good sign.

“I know he’s pissed, but he has to abide by his parents’ decision,” Zoe says to me.

Zoe looks lovelier than I’ve ever seen: her skin glowing, her hair dark and lustrous, her eyes bright as spring clover. She’s still wearing her favorite trousers, but her blouse is partly unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up. A belt cinches her slim waist, showing her figure in a way she never would have done before.

She’s secure for the first time in her life, safe as if Miles’ arms are wrapped around her, even when he’s not actually in the room.

I don’t want to puncture that safety, not for a second. But I’m frightened for her, and I can’t seem to shake it.

“I just . . . don’t believe he’ll let you go so easy,” I say to Zoe.

“Fuck him,” Zoe says, tossing her head imperiously. “There’s no contract anymore. If he tries to hurt me at school, he’ll be punished. Outside of school, I’m staying with Miles. You can come with us too, Cat. Come to Chicago this summer. Father won’t care—he’ll be drowning in cash from this deal. Miles says it’s already running, it’s already working.”

She’s high on triumph, blissful and full of plans.

I’m afraid that Miles is the same.

They can’t see what I see.

They’re not watching Rocco as he gets paler and more venomous by the day. He’s a snake that’s starving, and that only makes him more dangerous.

“I think he’s losing his friends, too,” Zoe says. “Jasper was pissed about that week in a prison cell, and from what I hear Dax is none too happy that Rocco fucked up their room.”

I have noticed that Rocco’s friends don’t seem particularly happy in his company. Jasper barely speaks, and Dax is sulky and easily irritated. Some of the hangers-on disappeared entirely after what happened to Wade Dyer. Rocco snaps at anyonewho remains, until his group of a dozen minions dwindles to three or four.

Still, I follow him as the school year draws to a close, until there’s only a few weeks left. Because I don’t trust that he’ll let us board that ship without one final confrontation.

A weekbefore the final challenge of theQuartum Bellum,I study in the library. Much as I usually enjoy this place, I’m longing to be outdoors where the orange blossoms are in full bloom, the sun shining, the grass fragrant. The weather is fully warm now. Nobody wears sweaters or jackets anymore, or even stockings. The girls lay out on the lawn with their skirts pulled up to get some color on their legs. The boys hang around tossing footballs and baseballs, pretending not to watch.

I’d like to be down there, but I’m close to achieving actual decent grades, as long as I can stick the landing on my final exams. So I’m one of the only people inside the tower, resisting the siren call of early summer.

Or at least, that’s the case until I hear several sets of footsteps coming up the ramp.

Instinctively, I slip out of my seat and hide between the bookshelves.

The footsteps are heavy and male. The lowered voices have an edge of malice all too familiar to me.

“Did you see her laying out on the grass with her head in his lap? Fucking flaunting herself.”

Rocco’s hissing fury makes my flesh go cold and clammy. I stay exactly where I am, wedged in the tiny space only feet away from the boys.

“Well, he paid enough for her. Let him have her. I would have kept the cash, personally.”

I hear Dax Volker’s ugly laugh.

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