Page 13 of Kingmakers, Year Four

My face goes hot. I swallow back the retort that immediately springs to mind. I’m in fight mode right now, and I don’t want to turn that on Sabrina. She was trying to help me.

“I want to know what’s going on,” I tell her.

Sabrina holds up her bound hands, in a silent,Well, if that’s what you really want . . .

“Your dad’s got a bad reputation,” she says.

I frown.

“Everybody has a bad reputation. We’re a bunch of criminals.”

“Even in a school full of bad guys . . . he’s known as a pretty bad guy,” Sabrina says.

I want to tell Sabrina to fuck off. That’s my father she’s talking about—the man who adored me and raised me and taught me everything I know. My dad’s brilliant and ambitious. Yes he has a temper, and yes we fight like hell sometimes, but I admire him wholeheartedly.

On the other hand . . . Sabrina’s not really the person saying this. The message is screamed at me in the cold disdain of every student I meet.

Sabrina Gallo’s the only person who doesn’t seem to hate my guts on sight. So it would be pretty stupid to bite her head off as the bearer of bad news.

“I’ve never heard that before,” I say stiffly. “Obviously I think he’s great.”

“Of course you do,” Sabrina says.

I sit there fuming for a minute, pissed that all these kids think they have the right to judge my family, when they’re from thieving, murdering stock, just the same as me.

“Why’d you help me, then?” I demand. “If you think Estas is right?”

“I didn’t say I thought he was right,” Sabrina says. “I don’t know your dad; I’ve never met him. You seem cool, and Estas seems like an asshole. And quite honestly, I didn’t put that much thought into it before I decked him. It just felt right in the moment.”

That’s about the same amount of forethought I was using.

Our eyes meet, and I can’t help snorting. Sabrina starts laughing, too.

It’s embarrassing as hell arriving in the port of Visine Dvorca tied up like prisoners. But it’s also kind of funny how badly I managed to fuck up the first day of school.

Caleb Griffin sees us laughing. He shakes his head at us like we’ve lost our damned minds. Cara Wilk watches us solemnly.

“She’s definitely gonna write a short story about this later,” I whisper to Sabrina.

Sabrina hides her face in the cave formed by her arms and her drawn-up knees, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Thank god my parents won’t care if we get expelled before we’ve even started,” she says.

“My dad will throw a party,” I say. “He never wanted me to come in the first place.”

That thought wipes the smile off my face.

“What’s wrong?” Sabrina says. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Yeah . . .” I say. “I just don’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking he was right.”

That’s not it, though.

What actually disturbs me is the realization that there’s more than one reason my father didn’t want me coming to Kingmakers.

4

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