Their Vicious Games(28)

Penthesilea quirks an eyebrow. “Cards or dice?”

Before Jacqueline can decide, the doors are thrown open.

Leighton Remington stands in the doorway, dressed in a sleek sheath dress that makes each of us look sloppier by the second. She brushes back an imaginary flyaway, patting it into her perfectly coiffed blond hair.

“Ladies, finish your breakfasts in quick order. Once you do, you will return to your rooms to find today’s attire spread and ironed. Your training begins now.”

Everyone moves collectively. Jacqueline shovels the rest of her avocado toast into her mouth. Penthesilea slots a piece of buttered rye between her teeth, and they both get up.

“Come on. We were already late for breakfast,” Saint mutters under her breath. She grabs my wrist, tugging me up after her.

“Miss Walker.”

I jerk to a stop and turn on my heel, swallowing.

“Yes, Dr. Remington?” I mutter.

She tilts her head. “Before we begin, I’d like to see you in my office.”





CHAPTER 10





“DID I DO SOMETHING WRONG, Dr. Remington?”

“Do sit down, Miss Walker,” Leighton says. She shuts the door behind her and walks past me in her crocodile pumps.

Her office is a grand space, with built-in bookshelves lined with tomes ranging from what looks like a collection of Dante’s poetry to the latest edition of the DSM. The elegant jewel-tone wallpaper complements the panels of rich, dark wood. Her desk looks like it’s carved from the same, old but gleaming with a fresh polish. I look to the red leather chair that I expect she wants me to sit in, but she takes the seat there, leaving only the velvet green couch that dominates the back wall.

I squirm. “Dr. Remington—”

“Please, Miss Walker,” Leighton insists, in a way that makes it clear that she’s no longer asking. I’m quick to do as she demands, surprised to find when I sit that it’s hard, despite its plush appearance. “And do call me Aunt Leighton. Most of the girls do.”

Leighton Remington is not going to be my aunt.

“What is this about?” I blurt.

I don’t want to accuse her of anything or let her accuse me. While she has a glacial mask to the planes of her face, she doesn’t look cold, just calm, like an undisturbed tundra.

“Last night a tragic event occurred. And where others stood still, you displayed a remarkable amount of compassion. In fact, I applaud you.”

My worry stills. “Really?”

“Yes. Margaret must have been in a considerable amount of pain. You had no idea what was wrong with her, whether it was contagious, but you put that aside and wanted to help her,” Leighton says. She leans forward in her seat, her hands folded over her knee. “It’s commendable.”

“Then, why…?” I trail off. I shouldn’t ask. I’m not meant to ask.

Leighton sighs and looks away. Her mask evaporates, and she lays her shame bare. Her shoulders sag and she moves even more deliberately, like it’s the only thing holding her together. It’s so honest that my stomach turns, unused to it from someone like them.

Except she wasn’t like them. I remember. Not at first.

“Did you know that I was once in a Finish quite like this?” Leighton asks.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Then I’m sure you’ve already heard of my roots. Like you, I did not come from a family of means. We lived in town, but my summers were spent here, at the estate, helping the dearly departed Mrs. Remington in her garden. I attended Edgewater due to the generosity of the Remington Family. I was in the same year as my husband, but we didn’t move in the same circles. Still, they saw my potential and invited me to participate,” Leighton explains. She sounds almost wistful. I want to ask if this place has changed for her over the years. It must’ve. Just yesterday it felt like a fairy-tale castle. Now it feels like a tomb, a place of stale air and too many secrets. “Like you, I thought it was an opportunity to… ‘level the playing field,’ as Pierce loves to tout. I wished to reach my full potential. Instead, I learned that it was a game of quite… deadly proportions.” Her face falls again and she looks more tired than anything else, the lines around her eyes deepening.

“Then why continue it?” I demand.

“Because much like you… I was powerless to stop it. Adina, I see myself in you.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. A girl of not many means invited to a place that does not want her, and in which she does not fit,” Leighton says.

“You look like you fit in pretty nicely,” I say. Her story does hold an uncomfortable mirror up to my own life, except it’s distorted by the fact that this woman looks exactly like them and nothing like me.

Leighton laughs, a rich sound that’s more real than any word that she’s spoken to me yet. “Well, if you win, one day I might say the same about you,” she retorts, missing my point entirely, of course. She sits up taller. “Yes, I give off the appearance that I am a part of this family, I admit. But, Adina, as you well know, just a number of years in an institution doesn’t give you power. They have leverage over all of us. I am not a true Game Mistress, I’m a pawn here too. The Remingtons have rules and I cannot change them simply because I want to. Neither can you.”