Page 38 of Good Losers (Lochkelvin Academy)

“For some reason, Idon’tthink my father will allow that.”

“Hey, I got my license last year. Dyin’ tae get intae one for real.”

I stare at him in astonishment. “You can fly a helicopter?”

Finlay meets my gaze, his green eyes as hard as emeralds. “Yep.” It’s tense and curt and, as he glances away from me, my heart shatters at once.

Nevertheless, I find myself snapping, “I didn’t know flying helicopters was a particularly Marxist pursuit,” which earns a snort of laughter from Rory.

When Finlay scowls at us both, I give him a radiant smile.

If that’s the way he wants to play, let him. Hypocrite.

We lapse into silence, Luke turning the page of a newspaper with a weary grimace.

“Apparently,The Standardhas now declared a negative editorial line on the monarchy,” Luke murmurs while reading, his head dipped in despondency. He glances up at Rory. “They used to be first to receive information from the Palace. What is happening to my family? Why am I the last to know everything?”

Of course. Rory doesn’t know of Finlay and Luke’s fencing match.

Luke’s playing him.

When Rory says nothing, Luke’s jaw tightens. “I know your face well enough to know that you are hiding something. I know you have been avoiding me ever since I arrived — tell me, has my presence been too inconvenient for Oscar Munro’s son?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” Rory says tiredly. He slides his chair back, turning to me. “Jessa, come on, I’ll show you to the kitchens—”

“If you ignore me again for yet another distraction,” Luke says in a calm, measured way that I’ve never heard from him before — he sounds so lethal, sosovereign, “then I have no option but to demand a duel.”

Rory rakes a hand through his blond hair. “Fine. Demand it. I’ll be there.” He meets my gaze warmly as he stands. “Come on.”

I trail Rory to the kitchens, though the last thing I want is to be separated from the chiefs. I want to uncover the truth. I want to see what happens next. Rory is silent the whole journey downstairs, though he glances back at me once and traces his fingers down my bare arms as though testing whether or not I’d allow him.

I allow it. I’d allow him to take me up against the wall and strip me bare in full sight of the entire manor, if he wanted.

He doesn’t know I’ve already explored the kitchens in my nighttime wanderings, so he introduces it blandly, as though a kitchen larger than my family’s apartment back home is nothing much to shout about. This time, there are several chefs busily bobbing around, and I watch one effortlessly debone a large silver fish at one of the many counters.

“We have several fridges full of food, so I’m sure you’ll be able to find something to your liking. We have wine cellars and cheese cellars and plenty of meat in the freezer chests. Just don’t take any of the scallops or, indeed, the caviar, or father will throw a fit.”

“I’m vegan.”

Rory gives me a small, mocking smile. “Then there are plenty of carrots in the fridge, and perhaps you’ll be lucky and find a lettuce leaf.” As I glare at him, his expression grows less playful. He pauses, giving me a concerned look that makes me feel uneasy. “Tell me, why would my father suddenly take offense to you?”

What can I possibly say? That I almost ruined his father’s meticulous plans to bring down the monarchy? That I turned the other cheek when he tried to kiss me? “I… I don’t know.”

Rory nods, the concern still large on his face. “Perhaps he doesn’t agree with my choice of partner.” In front of the chefs, he slides a possessive hand around the back of my neck and brings my parted mouth near his, his lips skimming close enough to kiss but holding himself back. “You are something of a left-field choice, after all.”

It’s cute the way Rory brings upchoice, because my feelings for him have never been an option. He barreled into my life and took hold of my heart with hot, violent hands.

I sigh as he leaves, gathering my wits. My hands are shaking and my inner thighs are needy for him. I’m a brainless puddle of sensation and lust around Rory and being stuck down here is the last thing I want. I quickly assemble myself a peanut butter sandwich from a jar fancy enough to have a tartan ribbon tied around its neck and a pretty label in gilt italic text.

Naturally, it’s the best-tasting peanut butter in the damn world and I scarf it down on my way to the fencing hall. Captain Porthos joins me, galloping beside me as though wooed by the scent of my sandwich, and together we enter the chamber.

Already, there are raised voices.

Finlay’s beside Rory, easing him into his fencing jacket and clipping a wire onto its shiny metal tail while Rory holds onto the remainder of the wire and plugs it into the guard on his foil. Finlay leans in to whisper something in Rory’s ear, and Rory gives a grim, determined nod as he watches Luke. And then Finlay pats Rory’s shoulder before moving on to assist Luke.

He passes me in the process, flicking a stern glance that tells me to stay where I am.

I watch him hook up Luke. Fencing seems a sport more complicated than I ever knew, with hidden wires and industrial-sized bulldog clips. The technicalities of it manage to fade away when I’m confronted by two attractive boys dressed in pure white, the air crackling with tension between them.

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