Page 50 of Burdened Bonds
“Well, returning to the academy – to a sense of normalcy will help, I’m sure. Although, as you can imagine, we are all shaken.” She lifts her hand and rests it on my shoulder, then turns to the guard by my side. “Mr. Kennedy will be safe from here. The Lord Protector has increased security at the academy. We are in no danger.” Her eyes flick behind me and I twist my head to find a pair of soldiers patrolling the boundary of the academy.
Are they here to keep danger out or me in?
The guard gives the principal a courteous nod before returning to the vehicle. And the principal gently nudges me to walk around the perimeter of the ruined mansion.
“We’re hoping it will all be repaired in a couple of months. Good as new with some added security measures your father has devised included. In the meantime, we’ve erected some temporary classrooms and a canteen.” As wewalk around the building work, I see tents scattered across the grounds including a giant marque I’m guessing is the new food hall. “Luckily, your dorm building encountered very little damage and it was repaired as a priority. I’ll let you return there now, Tristan, and get yourself settled. Dinner will be served at the slightly early time of 7:15pm from now on to allow for your father’s daily broadcast afterwards.” She balks slightly, her eyes dashing to mine in alarm. I pretend I haven’t noticed. “Mandatory attendance, of course.”
“Of course,” I say smiling, waiting as she turns and returns in the direction of the building works. When she’s out of sight, I pick up my feet, racing along the academy pathways, passing students who gape as I pass them, crashing through the dormitory doorway and up the staircase.
I halt at the door, lift my fist and pound on the wood.
At first there’s no answer, and I pound harder, louder this time, the door shaking in its frame. Another minute passes and then it draws back and Summer Clutton-Brock stands in the doorway.
Her hair is shorter than the last time I saw her – the night of the ball – skimming her chin, and her skin looks so pale it’s almost translucent – none of that usual bronze tan all the cheerleaders sport.
Her eyes land on me and several emotions flurry over her face – shock, jubilation, fear.
Yeah, she should be fucking scared. She should be fucking terrified.
She regains a hold of her emotions, pulling her face into one of excitement.
“Tristan! You’re back. I’m so fucking pleased. The last few days without you have been–”
I shove her backwards and into her room, slamming the door behind me.
“You broke it. You broke the fucking binding promise.”
The smile on her lips wavers ever so slightly.
“What? What are you talking about, Tris? I never broke any–”
“You did. I felt it. I told you I’d know if you broke it.”
“I didn’t break any stupid promise,” she says, the smile turning sour.
I grab her by the throat and slam her into the nearest wall. She scrabbles at my fingers and I squeeze, squeeze until she’s gasping for air.
“You think I’m stupid? An idiot? Is that it, Summer?” Her face turns bright red, her long fingernails scratch at my skin. “You broke it. We both know it. So who the hell did you tell?”
She scowls at me and sends a sharp zap of magic right into my gut.
I grunt, the pain making my eyes water, but I keep a hold of her throat, shaking her this time.
“Are you deaf?”
She blasts more magic my way, much more forceful this time, blowing us apart. I stumble backwards, watching as she gasps for air. Then I’m on her again, this time twisting her around, and banging her face-first into the wall.
She grunts, then scrabbles to break free, blasting magic my way which I bat away like it’s an annoying fucking mosquito.
“Unless you tell me, right now, I’m going to fucking kill you, Summer Clutton-Brock.”
“You can’t!” she screeches. “You can’t treat me this way. Your father promised to protect me. He promised you wouldn’t be able to lay a finger on me.”
“So it was him you told?” I laugh. “You really are fucking stupid, aren’t you, Summer? You believed what my father told you? You trusted him? You should know Christopher Kennedy is a lying snake, one that will sink his poisonous fangs into you the first chance he gets.”
“You’re wrong, Tristan Kennedy,” she taunts. “He admires me. He values me. So you’d better start treating me with respect.”
“You have to earn respect,” I snarl.
