Page 100 of Ruthless Legacy

I don’t have my backpack or my laptop either, but they’ve already said school is below league business.

“The stylist will have dropped a few things off by now. You’ll have everything you need for the rest of the week.”

I lower my fork with a clank. “I’m expected to stay in your home the entire week?”

“That’s correct. There’s lots to go over. It’ll be easier for us if we’re under the same roof and free to speak.”

If our arrangement is supposed to be built on trust, James Hourihan is failing at establishing it. He said we’d be going over what I need to know for my final indoctrination exam. It’s been two days and the only things we’ve covered are what I should wear, what I should eat, and how to enter and exit a room and address council members. There’s some weird honorific and bow that he had me doing in a dress and heels.

Tonight, we’re at a mixer hosted by one of the other tutors. He called this a practical application session. I’m standing beside him as they discuss the ascension ceremony and how excited they are to see where everyone lands on the scoreboard.

“The new prospects will have some big shoes to fill. Do you think we’ll have a meritorious advancement this year?”

James scoffs, “Of course not. The only ones who’ve gotten close to the score requirement are the current Trium. They insist on working as a team and since we can promote only one, that puts them out of the running.”

“Meritorious promotion? What’s that?,” I ask.

They ignore my question. My less than helpful tutor gives me a tight smile and says, “We’ll talk about that later.”

“Of course. Sorry for interrupting.” I paint a smile on my face. “Excuse me a moment.” I walk away, letting the smile slip. It’s been like this the whole night. I ask questions about The League and he tells me later. I don’t know if the other five girls are fairing any better.

I push into the bathroom and step into the stall to relieve my bladder. The bathroom door swings open, and someone says, “Yes, sir. I already have the ballots. No, I haven’t looked at them or tampered with them. I’ll send them by courier tonight.”

She starts muttering. “Don’t open the bag,Stella.Don’t let anyone know what you’re doing. Don’t get caught there by any of the other members, Stella. It’s of the utmost importance that you be discreet, Stella.” She sounds bitter. Her next word are, “If it’s such a super secret assignment, why the hell do you keep sending me to do it? Oh, I know why. Because you’re too busy fucking your son’s girlfriend to come do it yourself.”

I flush the toilet and step out of the stall. Her eyes widen as she sees me behind her in the mirror. I ignore the panicked look on her face and wash my hands. We exit the bathroom seconds apart. “Shit.” She gasps when James starts walking our way.

I guess this is the part where she’s not supposed to be seen. I don’t know what’s in the bag, but I understand the need for a quick getaway. I grab her arm and drag her back to the bathroom. “Wait three minutes, then go left down the hall that leads to the servant’s wing. At the end of that hall is a door that leads to the path to the guest house. If you climb the fence, you can circle back around to the front of the house without being seen.”

She blinks at me. “Thank you. But why are you helping me?”

“Why not help you? What woman hasn’t wished for a quick getaway a time or two?”

I step back outside, smoothing my hair, and pretend not to know James was standing there. “Oh, hi.”

“What were you doing?”

“Using the bathroom.”

“I saw you come out. Why’d you go back in?”

“I had a water spot on my dress, from leaning against the sink when I was fixing my lipstick. I didn’t realize it until I stepped into the hall under better lighting. I went back into the bathroom to dry it.” I point to the spot near my hip. “The heat was only making it worse.”

“Because that needs to be handled by a professional dry cleaner, not a hand dryer.”

I nod like I’m an idiot, unfamiliar with expensive fabrics. “I realize that now.”

He heads back the other way. “There are more people for you to meet. Don’t forget to use the councilman’s rank.”

I roll over in bed and turn off my alarm. My brain is fried. Last night, we had our final lesson at Cabot’s house. I spent three days with James and we never talked about any of the things I learned in Indoc. I hope they have a survey at the end of this, because zero out of ten would recommend him as a tutor.

The session at Cabot’s piled on additional information. Then, at midnight, we had an official review of all prior lessons. Five hours of a recap, because there will be no talking, and no clarification on the day of the exam.

Then I had to wait for a lift back to campus. By the time I got to the dorms, the early morning workout crew was already up and heading out. I dragged my body to the elevator and crashed on my bed without even taking my clothes off.

I’ve slept through my first class and will probably miss my next one too. I don’t think I retained much last night or this morning, so I need to cram. I grab a quick shower and pocket my key fob and meal card so I can go grab some coffee.

When I open the door, I nearly step on the tray in front of it, with a coffee carafe and styrofoam container. I stoop down and pluck the sticky note from the container.

---