KNIGHTLEY ACADEMY
Page 28
“So we sit here and wait for them to attack,” Adam muttered.
“There are worse places to sit and wait,” the headmaster said.
“Like reformatory schools?” Henry asked before he could stop himself.
“Ah,” the headmaster said, his smile tightening into a grimace, “that.”
“Frankie doesn’t want to go, in case you haven’t noticed,” Adam said. “She likes it here. She has friends here. And she’s learned what happens when you break the rules. Please, sir, you can’t send her away. If you’re going to send anyone away, my vote is for Grandmother Winter.”
Henry nearly laughed out loud. Even Headmaster Winter seemed amused by Adam’s outburst.
“I’d been thinking that the decision was a bit rash,” Headmaster Winter admitted.
“Sir,” Henry said, “it doesn’t seem fair that our punishment was two days’ suspension, and Frankie’s is to be sent away for good.”
“No,” the headmaster said, tugging at his beard, “it doesn’t. In any case, I’ll leave you boys to it. I just wanted to make certain that you understand about the Nordlands.”
“Without proof, it’s as though what I saw never happened,” Henry said sourly, wishing it didn’t have to be that way. He’d fought so hard to be believed, and now it didn’t even matter. It was as though nothing had happened at all. An army was sharpening its swords and preparing its attack, and those with the power to stop it were content to sit and wait.
“Right you are,” the headmaster said, taking out his pocket watch. “I’ll see you at supper in … goodness, can it be forty minutes?”
It felt strange going back to the dining hall and the first-year table, even though it had been only two days.
As Henry and Adam took their seats, the whole of the dining hall craned their necks to stare.
Well, Henry thought wryly, staring is becoming a common occurrence these days.
“You’re back!” Edmund said, scooting over to sit with Henry and Adam.
“Yeah, we are,” Adam said with a grin. “Got out early for good behavior.”
“Actually, Edmund, can we copy your class notes?” Henry asked.
“Oi, how can you think about schoolwork at a time like this?” Adam asked.
“A time like what?” Henry frowned. And then he realized what Adam was going on about.
Rohan stood in the cavernous entrance to the dining hall, his grin nearly as wide as the set of double doors.
“Oh good, the thief is back,” Theobold said with a sneer.
But Henry hardly heard him. He was too busy giving Rohan an enormous hug.
“It’s jolly good to see you too,” Rohan said stiffly.
“Sit down and have some potatoes,” Adam said, pulling Rohan into the seat next to his.
“I almost forgot,” Rohan said with a frown. “I found this in the pocket of my school blazer.”
It was the king of diamonds, the missing playing card from Adam’s solitaire game. “Brilliant, thanks,” Adam said, pocketing the card.
“What have I missed?” Rohan asked.
Henry and Adam exchanged a glace.
“Oh, nothing much,” Henry said.
“Really?” Rohan asked skeptically.
“Well, we were suspended,” Adam said, his mouth full of potatoes. “And then Sir Frederick was evil, and Lord Havelock was on our side, and we had a hearing, actually two hearings, and we’re not expelled, and Professor Stratford was fired, and Sir Frederick has disappeared, and Viscount Someone-or-other was tortured, and Frankie may or may not be sent to a reformatory.”
“Okay, Henry, what have I really missed?” Rohan asked.
Henry bit his lip, suddenly overcome by a fit of laughter.
“Are you trying not to laugh?” Rohan accused. “Honestly, what’s funny?”
Henry’s shoulders shook, and he had to fight to swallow a mouthful of juice. Because it was funny, come to think of it, in a tragic sort of way: so much had happened, yet so little had been accomplished.
Rohan finished unpacking his things after supper, while Henry and Adam sat on their beds and filled their friend in on what he had missed.
“I’m sorry,” Rohan said, locking his trunk, “but we’re friends with Valmont?”
“Not friends,” Henry clarified. “Just, well, not-enemies.”
“Yeah, if only it were so easy with the Nordlands,” Adam said sarcastically. “Oi, my uncle said I have to play nice, so no more war.”
“That would be nice,” Henry said quietly.
And, just then, a pebble smacked against their window. Rohan pushed up the windowpane and stuck his head out. There was a muffled thwack.
“Owww, that’s my face!” Rohan complained, as Henry and Adam rolled with laughter.
“Sorry,” Frankie called. “Anyway, good to see you, Rohan.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Winter,” Rohan teased.
“Well, guess what?” Frankie called.
“What?” Henry asked.
He and Adam had joined Rohan at the window.
“I’m not going to a reformatory,” Frankie said, grinning in the moonlight.
“Well done!” Henry said.
“Brilliant,” Adam said.
“Your father can’t be letting you stay here?” Rohan asked with a frown.
“He is!” Frankie said. “My grandmother is packing her things now. She says the house will be too cramped with all the tutors.”
“Tutors?” Henry asked, hardly daring to believe it.
“Well, obviously they’ve hired some silly nursemaid to teach me elocution and painting and piano and those sorts of rubbish things I’ll be horrible-on-purpose at learning, but Professor Stratford is coming back to teach real subjects—on the condition that I behave. And my father mentioned something about Professor Stratford supervising Sir Frederick’s second years until they hire a proper replacement.”
The mention of Sir Frederick’s name caused the four friends’ smiles to fall. Because they remembered all too well how they had trusted Sir Frederick—and how he had betrayed them. And how war, whether they had proof or not, was looming just beyond the horizon every morning when they dressed for chapel in the gray dawn.
“Want to come play cards in the common room?” Adam asked. “Because it’s bloody cold out, and I’m not keen to keep shouting through the window.”
“What’s the wager?” Frankie asked, hands on her hips.
“There’s always a wager with you, isn’t there?” Adam accused.
“Makes things interesting,” Frankie said.
“Good, because things need to be more interesting around here,” Henry said.
And with a grin, Henry loosened his tie and prepared to spend an evening in the company of his friends.