Gilded Cage

Chapter Fourteen

Eaten by wildcats. As crazy as it sounded, that was the official statement given by the police on Henry's cause of death. After making Thomas presentable again, we had rushed back just in time to see the paramedics putting the body into the ambulance and driving to Edinburgh — to perform the autopsy, I assumed. A day later, when the report had come, the whole castle was in shock. People were openly crying in the corridors, and loudly talking about it in the dining hall; someone had created a small altar in front of the main gate, with a picture of Henry and some flowers. It was deeply disturbing. No one had liked the boy when he was alive, but now that he was dead, he was everyone's best friend.

"They want to do a wake," Alexi declared, putting down his tray and sitting in front of me.

"A wake? When?" I asked.

"This evening. In the courtyard."

Paola scoffed.

"I think it's a nice gesture," Christian said.

"Oh, please. The lad was a prick. He was especially a prick to you, why do you care?" Thomas spat. He looked sober, weirdly enough.

Christian shrugged. "He was a prick, but that doesn't mean he deserved to die."

"It's rather hypocritical to say that, don't you think?" Paola laughed, like she made a funny joke and didn't just tease us about the fact that we had indeed killed someone.

"That's what you get when you go roaming the forest and you're not careful," Alexi murmured.

I shot him a look, wondering how the fuck he had managed to pull that off. I hadn't seen the body, but I could imagine what state it was in. Weeks in the open must have spoiled the corpse and, maybe, wildcats or other wild animals had consumed his remains to the point the coroner must have thought it had been an animal attack.

"Are we going to this wake?" Thomas asked.

"Of course we are," Alexi replied. "It would be suspicious if we miss it."

The wake was Byron's idea. He had convinced the Dean to host it to "remember Henry and pray for his soul" like he was some kind of soldier fallen in battle. I found it quite pitiful. Nonetheless, we went to the thing, all dressed in black, carrying our candles. All the students, the professors and the university staff were there; all paying their respects, to a boy who didn't respect anyone and whom they didn't know personally.

We stood in the back, waiting. When the clock struck eight, Bryon stepped on the improvised stage and took his place behind the microphone. He was wearing a three-piece suit, with a green tie and a long grey coat. His outfit must have cost more than my entire closet. The golden ring on his little finger reflected the light of the oil lamps.

"Thank you for coming everyone," he started. His grave voice reverberated through the courtyard. "We're here today because our brother Henry has been taken away from us too soon."

I glanced at Alexi, but his face was blank.

"I'm certain he would be glad to know he was loved by so many. Henry was a kind, smart boy and an amazing rugby player."

Some of the boys from the team cheered. I heard Thomas giggling. I couldn't help but grin as well. Byron was talking like he was announcing the second coming of Jesus.

"I called you here today to honour his memory, but I also want to say something else." Byron had raised his voice now. "They want us to believe that Henry was attacked by fucking wildcats, but I know the truth!"

My smile dropped instantly.

Fuck.

I looked at Paola, who was shooting daggers at Alexi. There was no way he told her what had happened with Henry. She must have realised it by herself. Christian had his eyes cast down and Thomas was trying to muffle his laugh. Something told me he wasn't sober anymore.