Cruel Shame (Knights of Templar Academy #3) - Sofia Daniel Page 0,71
in their study bedrooms. We walked into the tuck shop to the mingled scents of coffee and hot chocolate and found Gideon on an armchair, reading a thick tome with the twins.
Students filled the sofas, enjoying pre-dinner teas and coffees, and the line for the vending machines curled around the room.
Maxwell was the first to notice us and nudged his brother to make some space. Kendrick shuffled to the other end of the sofa. Orlando and I walked around the mazes of sofas and low tables to take my seat between the twins, while Orlando perched on its arm, next to Maxwell.
I turned to Kendrick. “What’s this about Myra? I heard there was an ambush.”
He reached into the pocket of his blazer and pulled out his smartphone. “Yesterday, the TV guide said that Glasgow Tonight would broadcast something about the crumbling state of the Tolbooth Steeple. After lunch, I heard rumors that they’d changed their schedule.”
The online TV guide said: Live interview with Myra Highmore, on the state of today’s youth.
My brows rose. “Is that even allowed? I thought people accused of crimes weren’t allowed to give interviews.”
Gideon shook his head. “The reporters are taking advantage of the poor girl and are marketing the live broadcast as general chatter. Do you know she has no living parents?”
“Oh.” My entire posture sagged against the sofa. “I’d heard her mum died… Who’s taking care of her?”
“The state, apparently,” he drawled.
My lips tightened. The time I spent in foster care told me everything I needed to know about the effectiveness of British social services. I wouldn’t let those lazy bullshitters take care of a feral rat, let alone a child.
The doors opened, and Myra walked in, flanked by two girls I recognized from Fashion and Textiles. They were also the pair whose bodies Elizabeth had disparaged the first day I’d met the girl.
“Hey, everyone.” Myra placed her hands on her hips. “The show starts in half an hour, but I’ve arranged for a projector and speakers in the dining hall.”
Cheers erupted across the common room, and students rose to their feet.
I turned to Maxwell and grinned. “I guess it’s time for dinner theater.”
We followed the horde of students down the hallway and through the dining hall’s double doors, where behind the head table stood the same projector Elizabeth used the day she exposed all my secrets to the academy. The servers had already placed huge bowls piled with mozzarella salad in the middle of each table, and looked ready to dish out the main course.
Maxwell slung an arm over my shoulder. “It looks like they don’t want to tie themselves up serving food during the show.”
“It’s a testament to how much the staff admires the headmaster,” said Gideon. “Nobody should withstand such a level of harassment and defamation.”
“Hear, hear,” said Kendrick.
We took our usual seats in the middle of the room, giving us a good view of the screen. Gideon and Kendrick, who sat opposite, would need to twist around for the broadcast, but that wouldn’t matter so much since we had half an hour to get through our meal.
Servers raced to the tables, dishing out portions of lasagne with asparagus and roasted carrots. I exchanged a smile with Gideon, but neither of us spoke. For once, it looked like things with the Liddells were sorting themselves out without our intervention.
Someone hissed, followed by gasps and muffled chuckles. Elizabeth stepped into the dining room with her nose in the air.
“It looks like nobody told her about the change in scheduling,” muttered Maxwell.
“She says television is plebeian,” said Kendrick.
Elizabeth turned to me with a smirk. “In a few days, I’ll make you beg to return my betting slip.”
I tilted my head to the side and mocked her haughty accent. “Whatever are you talking about?”
She continued to her table and raised a hand. A pair of servers rushed to her side, where she ordered both the vegetarian and meat options of the lasagna.
My brows drew together. “Is she eating for two?”
Kendrick frowned but didn’t comment.
Excited chatter filled the room throughout the meal. As soon as the servers cleared away the plates, they brought blocks of chocolate-covered ice cream wrapped in brown paper. Elizabeth demanded four and left them to melt on the plate.
“She isn’t even eating anything,” I muttered.
“It’s what she does when upset,” Kendrick said under his breath.
The lights dimmed, and Maeve walked to the head table. “Good evening, Templar Academy!”
Everyone burst into a round of applause, making her raise both hands.