Broken Wings (Dark Legacy #1)(16)

Stewart, who, with a little encouragement, was turning out to be so helpful—he’d even found me a phone charger—knocked on my door. “Riley, the Mistress wants me to inform you that you’ll be going to school this morning. Everything is set up for your enrollment, you just have to go via the office to get your things.”

I flung the door open and grinned at him. “Stew, seriously, that’s the best news I’ve heard all weekend.”

I tried to peer around him to see if Catherine’s coldly beautiful face was close by—she was supposed to be back today—but the hall was empty.

“Am I no longer a prisoner?” I asked, watching him closely.

He smiled. “She is granting you the freedom to go to and from school, for now, and when she returns you will discuss the rest of the rules.”

I was both ready and dreading her return.

“I’ll get dressed,” I said, turning away.

He cleared his throat, and I looked back. “Please wear the uniform correctly,” he said. “I will send one of the day maids up, she will lay it out on the bed.”

I shrugged, having met a few of the day maids already. They never spoke, kept their eyes locked on the ground, and hurried around cleaning.

“I’ll be in the shower then.” Turning the other way, I crossed to my bathroom, as the main bedroom door closed behind me. There was no distinctive click of the lock this time, and I tried to contain the happiness bubbling in my chest.

Freedom had never tasted so sweet, even if I did have to attend a preppy rich school to experience it.

My shower was short because I was more than a little anxious to get out of this room. I slapped on some makeup, taking a little extra care with my eyeliner—I was not rocking up to some rich-kid-school looking like a raccoon. It took me a tad longer to blend makeup around the healing cut on my cheek as well, and nothing could hide it completely, but it was at least harder to see.

I exited the bathroom, clad in matching black underwear, and stopped short when I saw the outfit on the bed. Or more accurately, the shoes perfectly positioned on the floor below.

“No fucking way,” I choked. Were they actually serious right now?

Striding across to the door, I swung it open and called out: “Heels? You want me to wear heels all day?”

I slammed the door then and grumbled the entire way back to my bed. I loved heels as much as the next girl, but I was usually drunk when I wore them, and as Dante said, I usually ended up on my ass at least once during that period of time. My feet already ached just looking at shiny black school shoes.

Knowing I had no choice, I quickly shimmied into the skirt and blouse, not at all surprised they were my exact size. Everything in my clothes room had been my exact size, because Debitch was a weirdo stalker.

The skirt was pretty short, falling to mid-thigh, and I tucked the blouse in. Sitting on the bed, I pulled on the knee-high socks and then gingerly slipped my feet into the shoes. They fit so well. Like, my toes weren’t pinched and nothing rubbed even though they were new.

I wondered if they’d feel this good eight hours from now.

The last piece of the uniform was the jacket, and I slipped into the custom made number, surprised that it slid easily over my cast. Before I could stop myself, I turned to check myself out in a nearby mirror. The floor to ceiling piece, with a wide gilded frame around it, reflected back a stranger.

I’d left my unruly waves out, because it was easier than trying to manhandle it into a bun. My skin looked pale against all the dark colors in the uniform. The shoes made my legs look long, and considering I was just a bit above average height at 5’9, that was a nice change. But everything else about this made me uncomfortable.

Picking up my phone, I snapped a pic and sent it straight to Dante with the caption “I look ridiculous, shoot me now.”

His reply was almost instant.

Dante: Riles…

I wasn’t sure what to make of that, so I didn’t reply, just threw my phone into the pocket of my blazer, and took a few wobbly steps across the room. Stewart had told me that the books on my desk were my home books, for study outside of school—yeah, okay—and that when I got my welcome pack at the school, it would have my school copies.

So I didn’t have to break a nail carrying my books home with me.

My phone buzzed again, and I pulled it out of my pocket.

Dante: You’re going to get me killed. That skirt…

Me: I’m wearing fucking heels. Forget about the skirt, it’s not going to get anyone killed. The heels though…

Dante: Riles, watch this school. I’ve been warned about those guys from the race. They’re bad news. Really bad news. You need to keep me updated. I’ll be around.

Me: If I can deal with Debitch, I can deal with some punk ass wannabe rich gangstas.

It took him another minute to reply, and I knew he would be running his hands over his shaved head right now, face screwed up in annoyance.

Dante: Have you actually dealt with her yet?

Bastard. No need to poke holes in my brilliant plan so quickly.

Dante: Don’t argue with me. Keep your head down, don’t go searching for trouble. I got your back.

Since I trusted him with my life, I had no doubts of those words. Still, I was getting pretty sick of being dictated to so much. Ever since I was thrust into this world, I felt like everything about me was out of control.