Page 20 of The Last De Loughrey Dynasty

He was winning, as usual, like he did in every game of chess he played with either of them since I’d been here.

It was as if he were the smartest person in the room when it came to chess or games in general. Jesse was made to play games. As far as I knew, the Berkshire family was known for it. His grandfather had designed a game calledSpellbound. It was an abstract strategy game, very similar to chess in its characters and figures, but the board resembled a maze. I’d tried to figure out the rules and strategies to win just by watching, but it was hopeless. It’s said to require immense concentration to have any chance of winningSpellbound. And as if the Berkshire family weren’t already drowning in money, that game had made them millions.

I’d researched it after Naomi hinted at why Jesse was so captivated by games. If I were familiar with them, I could figurethem out. Being surrounded by the same people day in and day out made me feel like I was somewhat part of something. It scared me a little. But if I knew everything about them, I could start conversations about the things they enjoyed and maybe they’d like me. Chadwick had also recommended that the research might help ease my anxiety.

“Could you stop talking about witches getting hanged?” Maisie mumbled from her spot by the fireplace, where she was gluing candid photos into a scrapbook. “It was enough for me when Professor Kane told me that if I’d lived in the seventeenth century, I’d have been hanged as a witch, so I’d be deeply thankful if you could change the subject to something a bit more delightful.”

She loved taking photos of everything her friends did. All of her scrapbooks were kept under her bed, each one representing a different year she’d spent here.

Three days ago, she’d shown me a picture of a twelve-year-old Jesse with braces and a T-shirt that said,Naomi Minoru is better than me. She’d told me they’d made a bet to see who could go the longest without speaking, and Jesse had lost after barely two hours.

“They wouldn’t have hanged you,” Nathaniel assured her. He sat next to Archer, playing cards with Naomi, who wasn’t particularly interested in the game.

“You’re right, they’d have burned me at the stake,” she shot back, dead serious.

Archer scoffed. “You’re being dramatic, Mai.”

She got up from the floor and sat beside me on the bench. “Easy for you to say, Archer, you’d have been a huntsman if you’d been born in the seventeenth century,” Maisie murmured, resting her elbows on the table to support her head.

I patted her arm. “Don’t worry, I’d have burned with you.”

“That’s right, cast the redheads to ash,” Jesse shouted quietly, taking Archer’s knight with his rook. Archer leaned back, sighing, as he watched the game unfold. He was losing, and he was well aware of it.

“I’m going to remember that,” I said, pretending to be hurt.

“Isn’t your sister a redhead?” Naomi asked, and Jesse nodded immediately with a grin. Another of Archer’s players was taken by his.

“Yeah, but Claire dyed it brunette over the summer. Such a disappointment. Who am I supposed to aim my ginger jokes at now?”

“Is she at Aquila Hall too?” I asked, curious, ignoring the way he’d aimed his last comment at me, a clear indication that I was the new target.

Jesse shook his head. “No, I’ve got five siblings, and the ones living in England go to some fancy private school in London because they—checkmate—aren’t a disgrace.” His rook took Archer’s queen by surprise. “Maisie has three sisters, and Archer has a little sister. Nathaniel’s an only child, and Naomi has two younger brothers,” he continued, leaning back now that the game was over and he’d won. “None of them have ever set foot in this place, well, no, they sometimes come to the anniversary ball, but what I’m trying to say is, misfits don’t often appear twice in a family.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” I apologised after a beat of silence, but Jesse waved me off.

“It’s alright. After six years, we’ve all learned to live with it. Do you manage to accept the fact that you’re the misfit child?”

Over the past couple of days, whenever Jesse said something that might seem inappropriate or too direct, the others told him to shut up, but now, no one spoke, because everyone understood that there was no other way to refer to us.

“I’m an only child,” I said, “so I never had anyone to compare myself with, except for the image of a perfect daughter my mother created.” I replied, “It’s fine, really,” not in the mood to mention the comment my mother had made once, when she wished she could have swapped Bethany, my cousin, and me as infants. That had come after I’d tried to convince her, in the dead of night, that a tall man with a cane and a top hat was standing outside my balcony. It had been three in the morning, and she was tired. She probably hadn’t meant it.

“That’s why you have us now,” Maisie assured me, her smile mirrored in her voice as she rested her head against my shoulder for a moment. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite as kind as she is.

I felt the corners of my mouth lift at her words, but from the corner of my eye, I saw Nathaniel and Archer’s eyes meet for the briefest moment, as if they shared a thousand secrets. Trying not to dwell on it, I looked back down at my notes spread out on the table.

“Do you know where the church in Owley is located?” I quickly changed the subject. While I had kept my eyes open to take in the entirety of the city when I visited two weekends ago, I hadn’t seen or heard the church bells.

“You don’t need to drive to Owley to pray,” Naomi replied, laying her cards face down on the table, so Nathaniel couldn’t see them.

“But I prefer to pray at church rather than in my room.” At home, we didn’t live far from the church, so I could always walk there myself.

“That’s not what she meant. Aquila Hall has a small chapel in the woods for students, who pray daily. There’s a path with a sign leading you to it. It’s about two hundred metres from here,” Archer answered instead of Naomi, who looked annoyed that he’d interrupted her before she could open her mouth.

“That’s lovely,” I said, packing up my things. “I’ll be back for dinner, if not, perhaps a huntsman ghost caught sight of my hair and mistook me for a witch.” I joked, and Jesse snorted. “May the Lord protect that redhead of yours, Dollie.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

DOROTHEE

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