“Well?” Henry prompted.
“I’ve been expelled,” Rohan said tightly, tossing an untidy ball of shirts into his trunk.
“What?” Henry asked.
“But you’re innocent, mate,” Adam said.
“Tell that to bloody Lord Havelock,” Rohan said, throwing his books into the trunk on top of the mountain of shirts. “He dragged me off to see Headmaster Winter. ‘This boy was caught red-handed,’ he said, ‘stealing a valuable Nordlandic artifact from my lesson. He was given ample time to come forward and return the item, yet he chose to see if he could get away with it.’ ”
“Surely Headmaster Winter didn’t believe him,” Henry said.
Rohan smiled sadly. “What choice did he have? It was our head of year’s word against mine. Lord Havelock was dead set that he’d caught me stealing, and without any reason for doubt, they didn’t even need to gather the trustees for a vote on my expulsion.”
“But anyone could have planted it in your bag,” Henry said desperately.
“Lord Havelock didn’t think so,” Rohan said sadly. “In fact, after making me out to be a thief, he rather blamed the headmaster for all of this, because what did he expect would happen if he let commoners into the academy?”
“This is what Professor Stratford warned us about,” Henry said. “That if we do anything wrong, Headmaster Winter could be fired. … Not like you did anything wrong, though.”
“Well, it’s as good as if I had,” Rohan said bitterly.
“You can’t leave,” Adam wailed, sitting down on his bed and putting his head in his hands. “Not now!”
“It’s not as though I was begging to be expelled,” Rohan said with an odd little laugh. “But my father might be able to convince them to take me back. Build a new library. Or how about some nice combat training rooms?”
“How come it’s funny when he jokes about it?” Adam whined.
Henry swallowed, his throat tight. Rohan was expelled from the academy. He couldn’t believe it.
“I don’t know what we’re going to do without you,” Henry said quietly.
“I do,” Rohan said firmly. “Find out who’s behind all this. Convince someone of what you saw in the Nordlands. Fix this.”
“I’ll try,” Henry said doubtfully. It wouldn’t be the same without Rohan as the calm voice of reason by his side.
“When are you leaving?” Adam asked.
“Now,” Rohan said. “On the next train to Holchester. They want to keep this quiet, since I’ve apparently broken the Code of Chivalry and all.”
Rohan smiled sadly and reached into his trunk. He took out his stack of leather-bound adventure novels and his gold pocket watch.
“Here,” Rohan said, handing Adam the novels. “Take them.”
“I couldn’t,” Adam protested.
“Please.”
Adam accepted the books quietly and, with a crooked grin, gave Rohan a salute.
Rohan turned to Henry, who shook his head. “You’ll be back,” Henry said.
“Keep this for me until then,” Rohan said, giving Henry the pocket watch. And even though they were fourteen, and far too old for anything besides a handshake, Henry gave his friend a hug good-bye.
“Aren’t you going to be late for ethics?” Rohan asked.
Henry shrugged, and then pulled the watch out of his trouser pocket and checked.
“Maybe a bit,” he admitted.
“Go,” Rohan said.
Henry bit his lip.
Adam scuffed the toe of his boot at the floor.
“’Bye,” Henry said.
“Good-bye,” Rohan said, smiling bravely.
Reluctantly, Henry and Adam headed to their next lesson, just the two of them.
“Pssst! Grim!” Theobold said after the lesson. “Where’s your friend?”
“Shove off, Archer,” Henry said miserably. He didn’t want to talk about it.
“Did he get expelled?” Theobold pressed. “Is your friend a nasty little thief ?”
Henry started forward, but Adam grabbed his arm and held him back.
“Really?” Theobold said, delighted. “You’re going to fight me for that? Well, have at it, Grim. I’ve not got all day.”
And as much as Henry wanted to, as dearly as he wanted to punch that smirk right off Theobold’s face, he didn’t quite dare. Because if he got expelled too …
“I’m waiting, Grim,” Theobold said, stifling a fake yawn.
“You’re not worth it,” Henry told him, wishing he could think of something better to say. His blood was boiling with hatred toward Theobold, who knew perfectly well that Rohan had been expelled, and probably knew just as well that Rohan was innocent of his accused offense.
Henry hated to walk away, but he needed to talk to Professor Stratford during their hour free, and he didn’t want to waste his time with Theobold.
“Come on, let’s go,” he told Adam.
Ellen glared when they showed up at the door of the headmaster’s house, but Henry was getting used to it.
“Miss Winter is having her piano lesson,” the maid said severely.
“We’re here to see Professor Stratford, actually,” said Henry with his most winning smile.
The door slammed shut in his face.
“Frankie’s rather horrible on the piano, isn’t she?” Adam commented while they waited. Through the front door, Henry could hear the faint tinkle of terrible piano music. He had to agree.
The door opened.
“Professor Stratford will see you in his study,” Ellen sniffed, and Henry and Adam followed her—up the main staircase this time—to the professor’s study.
“Henry!” Professor Stratford cried, delighted to see his former pupil. “And Adam! Come in, come in! But where’s Rohan?”
“He’s been expelled,” Henry said darkly, slumping into a chair.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Afraid so,” Henry said. “Someone made it look as though he’d stolen … well, I’m not sure what it was exactly. Some sort of good luck talisman from Lord Havelock’s archaeology lesson.”
Professor Stratford shook his head. “This is terrible,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, well, so are we.” Adam pouted.
“No, I mean, this is really terrible,” Professor Stratford said. “It’s precisely what I warned you about; Head- master Winter’s competency could very well be questioned for letting common students into the school.”
Henry exchanged a look with Adam.
Professor Stratford groaned. “Already?” he asked. “Someone has said something already?”
“Lord Havelock,” Adam said, pulling a face.
“But that isn’t even the half of what’s happening,” Henry said miserably.
“There’s more?” Professor Stratford asked with a grimace.
Henry told the professor what he’d seen in the Nordlands—the battle training room, the weapons and lists—and how he’d nearly been caught and hadn’t managed to take away any evidence.
“I told Sir Frederick,” Henry said, “but he didn’t believe me. He said that it was a prank, or that I was mistaken, but I know what I saw.”
Professor Stratford was quiet for a long time. He chewed the corner of his mustache and drummed his fingers on the table and had a faraway look in his eyes.
“I believe you, Henry,” the professor finally said. “I don’t know what good it does, but I do.”
“I knew you were always reading those inane gossip magazines for a reason,” Henry said.
“There’s truth to every rumor,” Professor Stratford said, in the old way of almost quoting that made Henry nostalgic for a time in his life he thought he’d never miss.
“What should we do?” Henry asked.
“The best thing that you can do right now would be to stay out of trouble,” Professor Stratford said. “And I mean it. Clearly, Rohan was set up, and whoever wanted him gone will be looking to get rid of the two of you next. Stay out of trouble, a
nd I’ll see what I can do.”
It wasn’t what Henry wanted to hear, but he had to admit that Professor Stratford had a point—and that, thankfully, the professor had believed him. But then, Professor Stratford didn’t teach at Knightley. He was just a tutor, just a friend.
But he was all they had.
LIFE WITHOUT ROHAN
Supper that evening was horrible. The feeling that they were eating upon a stage had returned—and tripled. Everyone knew that Rohan had been expelled, and Henry and Adam put up with curious stares and whispered conversations that stopped immediately as they walked by.
“Poor Rohan,” Henry said, pushing peas around on his plate.
“I know,” Adam said.
“Can you imagine?” Henry asked. “I mean, really imagine being expelled from Knightley?”
The possibility had been there ever since Henry’s quarter-term essay had gone missing, but it hadn’t truly seemed real until that afternoon, until they’d seen Rohan standing over his trunk, packing his things to go home. And now it was all too real and all too looming—like the threat of war.
“We have to tell Frankie,” Adam said, shredding a slice of bread.
Frankie caught up with them after supper.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “Where’s Rohan?”
“Holchester, wherever that is,” Henry said.
“He’s been expelled,” Adam said.
“Is this true?” Frankie asked Henry.
Henry nodded. And caught sight of Frankie’s grandmother marching toward them.
“What for?” Frankie asked.
“Stealing,” Henry said.
“Stealing?” Frankie asked, raising an eyebrow. “Rohan?”
“I know,” Henry said with a sigh. “And your grandmother’s spotted us.”
“Drat,” Frankie said. “Come on.” She ducked around the corner.
“Where are we going?” Adam asked, amused.
“Away from my blasted grandmother,” Frankie said. “She had me playing piano all afternoon. Piano. Thank goodness Professor Stratford has come around and is letting me do Latin.”
“Right, because Latin makes up for piano,” Henry said sarcastically.
Frankie pushed open a door to the school grounds.
“We’re going outside?” Adam asked.
“We can hide in Professor Stratford’s study,” Frankie said.
“Yeah, small problem with that,” Adam said. “What if Professor Stratford is using his study?”
Frankie bit her lip. “Do you have a better idea?”
“The library?” Adam suggested.
“The librarian’s still at supper,” Henry reminded them.
“Common room?” Frankie asked.
“We can’t talk there,” Henry said, shaking his head. They might as well duck into the armory. At least no one would look for them there.
The armory! Henry thought suddenly. They were down for fencing tomorrow, and the only left-handed foil in the armory had been missing at the last lesson.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a private store of foils, would you?” Henry asked.
“And this is relevant how?” Frankie asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I need to borrow a left-hander’s foil for tomorrow,” Henry said. “Mine was missing last lesson, and I don’t want to take any chances.”
“Hmmm,” Frankie said, biting her lip. “Well, she’d never look there. I’m certain of it. All right, onward.”
Henry and Adam followed Frankie across the quadrangle and through the back door of the headmaster’s house. Putting a finger to her lips in warning, Frankie led the boys down a stairwell and into the basement, which had been converted into a regulation fencing piste.
“This is brilliant,” Adam said, his mouth falling open in awe.
“Well, it’s for my father, not me,” Frankie said sourly. “The advantage of being headmaster.”
Frankie opened an impressively inlaid cabinet and took out a foil.
“We’re both left-handed,” Frankie said, testing the balance. “And honestly, he never uses this one, so he won’t notice if it’s gone.”
She made sure that the tip had been blunted and handed the sword to Henry.
“Thanks,” he said, trying a few passes.
“Don’t mention it,” Frankie said. “So what ever happened with Sir Frederick?”
“He didn’t believe me,” Henry said.
“What are you going to do now?”
“We told Professor Stratford,” Adam said.
“Well, what did he say?”
“To let him handle it and to stay out of trouble,” Henry said sourly. “As though we can control that sort of thing. I mean, it wasn’t as though Rohan planned to get expelled. Trouble just seems to find us.”
“If by trouble, you mean Lord Havelock, I’d agree,” Frankie said.
“How do you mean?” Adam asked.
“He never took his eyes off the two of you at supper,” Frankie said. “It was bizarre. I only noticed because I was seated two down from him at the High Table, but it was really strange.”
“Lord Havelock’s the one who found the artifact in Rohan’s bag,” Henry said. “He’s the one who went to the headmaster about it.”
“I’ll bet my father loved that,” Frankie said wryly. “He can’t stand Lord Havelock.”
“Well, who can?” Adam asked. “Horrible git, if you ask me.”
And the one behind all of this, the three friends thought but didn’t say.
“I just wish we had proof,” Henry said. “Of anything.”
“Yeah, well, we’re supposed to stay out of trouble,” Adam said.
“Since when do we ever do what we’re supposed to?” Henry asked.
“True enough, mate,” Adam agreed.
And then, all at once, the three of them realized that Rohan really had gone. Because there was no one to talk sense. No one to tell them not to. No advice, no voice of reason, no disapproving stare or exasperated sigh.
“Thank you for the sword,” Henry said.
“Any time,” Frankie said.
“You should probably find your grandmother and convince her that you haven’t died,” Henry said.
“If she thought I had, do you suppose she’d go home?” Frankie asked.
“Maybe you could fake your own death anyway,” Adam suggested.
“If you need a blood-soaked hair ribbon, just ask Adam,” Henry said with a small smile.
“Hey!” Adam protested.
“What are you talking about?” Frankie asked, wrinkling her nose.
“Never mind,” Henry said quickly. “See you tomorrow.”
“If I haven’t perished,” Frankie called merrily.
Henry tried not to stare at Rohan’s bare desk as he studied that night. He tried not to stare at Rohan’s empty bed or the gaping space in the wardrobe where Rohan’s clothes had been.
The room felt too big now for just the two of them.
Adam mentioned this as he and Henry got ready for chapel the next morning.
“I know,” Henry said, checking Rohan’s pocket watch. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”
“Speak for yourself,” Adam said, stifling a yawn. “Because I, for one, would love to be late for chapel, or perhaps to miss it all together.”
Henry rather felt the same. Especially since the priest chose that morning to give a lengthy sermon about stealing.
“Well, that was subtle,” Henry joked on the way to breakfast.
“What was subtle?” Adam asked.
Henry laughed. “Exactly,” he said.
“No, seriously, what was subtle, mate?”
Henry shook his head. “Never mind. I’m going to dash back to the room and grab Frankie’s foil. I’ll meet you at breakfast.”
It was fortunate that Henry had borrowed the foil from Frankie, as the left-handed equipment was once again missing from the armory.
Pleased he’d managed to thwart their saboteur,
Henry put on his glove and lined up with the rest of the intermediates.
The fencing master, to his credit, tried not to mention Rohan’s absence.
“I’ll be assigning pairs today,” the fencing master said. “Five touches per usual, and report back to me with the results. I’d like to get an idea of whether we should add an advanced level to the class.”
Adam grinned at the news of an advanced level, and continued grinning as he was matched up to fence Max Pearson, one of James’s friends whose lunges were always crooked.
“Grim, you’ll be fencing Archer,” the fencing master said.
Henry tried not to sigh. Was he always destined to go up against Valmont and Theobold in foil? He took his place across from Theobold and gave his salute, which Theobold made no move to return.
“You’re supposed to salute,” Henry called.
“And you’re supposed to scrub the floors,” Theobold returned.
Henry sighed.
Ever since he’d come to a sort of understanding with Valmont, Theobold had, if anything, become worse, focusing all of his hatred on Henry and his friends now that Valmont had backed down.
Edmund had been right—Theobold was the worse of the two.
“Let’s just go,” Henry said, still crouched in an “on guard” position.
Henry easily scored the first touch.
He hadn’t fenced Theobold before, but he could certainly see what Adam had meant about Theobold’s form. Instead of working on improving, Theobold fought as though winning were the most important part, as though every practice match was a bloody battle that had to be won.
If Henry just slowed down for a moment and looked for an opening or an advantage, he always found one.
Henry scored the second touch as well.
Theobold was overconfident, striking out without making certain that he could protect the outside—a foolish move, especially with Henry’s being left-handed.
“Two-zero,” Henry called, returning to his end of the piste.
Theobold snarled and they went again, Henry angling right for the outside and scoring his third hit.
“Three-oh,” Henry called.
“Wait,” Theobold said, reaching out and grabbing at Henry’s sword. “What’s this?”
“Left-handed foil,” Henry said with a shrug.
“No, it’s not. Let me see it.”
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