Page 78 of Kingmakers, Year One

If Leo is the Captain, he’s the one who will look the most foolish if all his plans crash and burn.

“You coming to the party?” Bram says, in the tone of somebody trying to cheer himself up.

“I dunno.”

I don’t mind the parties thrown at random when somebody steals, smuggles, or bribes a local into providing enough alcohol to get a bunch of us sloshed. Usually Miles Griffin is at the heart of it, since he seems to be able to get his hands on anything, and apparently could care less if he gets himself expelled. He almost seems to be trying to do it.

But if Leo is there, I’m going to have to watch him riding the high of being chosen, pretending to be modest every time somebody congratulates him.

I’ll fucking choke if I have to watch that all night.

“I don’t know if I feel like going out.”

“Suit yourself,” Bram says, rolling off the bed and pulling his shirt over his head. Bram’s back is thick with muscle and several nasty scars to go along with the one on his face. I’ve heard him tell a lot of stories about how he got his scars, but none of them match up, so I doubt he’s ever told the truth.

He leaves after changing his clothes. I read for another hour or two, then head down to the dining hall when I can’t ignore my stomach rumbling any longer.

They’re serving roasted chickens, each one split in half and stuffed with rosemary and thyme out of the castle gardens. Next to that, potatoes so crispy and brown that they’re splitting out of their skins.

I haven’t had food this good in . . . almost ever. I miss the odd thing I used to eat in Moscow. I love a good borscht. But in general, the food at Kingmakers is much better than anything I bought from corner stores and diners.

I sit with Bodashka and Valon, who are debating the merits of their favorite football teams—a foolish endeavor, since none of us have seen a game in two months. I’m trying not to listen to them, which is why I can easily hear the conversation of the two girls at the table behind mine.

“Can I borrow your silky top—the one that looks like lingerie?”

“If you want.”

“It looks sexy on me, don’t you think?”

“Yeah . . . but I don’t know if it will matter.”

“Why?”

“Well . . . he’s bringingher,isn’t he?”

“Just because she’s coming doesn’t mean he’s bringing her, like a date. They’re not dating.”

“How do you know?”

“They’re cousins.”

That makes my ears prick up. They’re talking about Leo and Anna, I know it. There’s not that many cousins at Kingmakers. Not many worth talking about, anyway.

I glance back over my shoulder, subtle so that the girls won’t notice. I see a raven-haired one and a redhead speaking with their heads close together.

The dark-haired girl is Gemma Rossi. She may look like a princess with her perfectly pressed blouse and her Alice-band, but Valon has an Artillery and Marksmanship class with her, and he said she’s a damn good shot.

I don’t know the other girl. She sounds Irish.

Gemma looks intense and determined. The redhead wrinkles her nose, making a face like she knows her friend won’t like what she’s about to say.

“I mean . . . it’s pretty obvious he likes her. Are they even actually cousins? Marina Voss told me?—”

“They’re not dating!” Gemma interrupts. “I’ve never seen them hold hands or anything. He likes me, I know he does. He said he’d come tonight as soon as I asked him . . .”

I turn back to my chicken, taking a huge bite out of the thigh to stop myself telling Gemma that she’s fucking delusional. I don’t know what the deal is with Leo and Anna, but I know forsure that no guy with two eyes in his head would pick Gemma Rossi when he can see Anna Wilk standing right there.

Still . . . knowing that Anna’s going to the party has an effect on me. It makes me want to go, too, even if it means seeing Leo smirking and accepting a hundred slaps on the back.

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