heel to glare at the lot of them, and the boys at the front of the crowd nearly jumped backward to avoid a collision. Behind Lord Havelock was a shabby sort of corridor lined with brass-knobbed doors. Each door bore a plaque engraved with the names of its occupants.

“You may not, under any circumstances,” Lord Havelock said, as though suspecting that they already had, “decorate your doors, rearrange the furniture, disrespect the housekeeping staff, make excessive noise, or neglect to keep your property clean and neat. My own chambers are at the end of the corridor, next to the bath. Bear in mind that I sleep—”

“In a coffin,” Adam murmured, and Henry, despite his worries about Valmont, had to stifle a laugh.

“—lightly, and do not appreciate being disturbed or woken for any reason short of an emergency,” Lord Havelock continued. “The bells will ring half an hour before the evening meal. Supper is formal, and tardiness, for whatever reason—”

“Short of an emergency,” Adam whispered, and again, Henry bit his tongue.

“—will not be tolerated. That is all, gentlemen.”

Lord Havelock—his gown billowing behind him in a way that, now that Henry thought about it, did make one wonder if he slept in a coffin—marched toward an elaborately carved doorway at the end of the corridor. The door slammed behind him, the lock clicking into place.

Collectively, the boys relaxed. And then they all raced down the corridor, looking at the names on the doors.

Henry stayed back by the archway that led to the threadbare common room, watching the others find their rooms. He was so overwhelmed that he could scarcely think. And yet, the one thought that surfaced was a desperate, last-minute wish: Please let my roommate be anyone besides Fergus Valmont, anyone besides Valmont …

“You coming, Grim?” Adam asked. “Got to figure out which room we’ll be sharing.”

“How do you reckon, sharing?” Henry asked.

“Well, it’s obvious they’ve put us together. I mean, do you honestly think Theobold Archer IV would share a room with me?”

Henry sighed in relief. Of course Adam was right.

But there was just one problem: out of the fourteen rooms, many had plaques that bore the name of a single student, and a good number bore two names, but not one of them said “Henry Grim” or “Adam Beckerman.”

The corridor was emptying now as the other boys disappeared into their rooms, shaking hands with a new roommate or checking to make sure all of their bags had arrived safely.

“Do you think they’ve forgotten us?” someone asked, and Henry and Adam turned.

Rohan Mehta stood, arms crossed, in the center of the hallway.

“I expect so,” Henry said miserably.

This was even worse than rooming with Valmont. Henry’s mind churned with possibilities of what was going to happen next: they’d have to live in the servants’ quarters or on a corridor with bullying fourth years or be sent home because there wasn’t enough space.

“Well, this certainly won’t do,” Rohan said, and with his chin in the air, he strode confidently toward Lord Havelock’s door and knocked sharply.

The door clicked open.

“My, my, emergencies do happen quickly.” Lord Havelock glared. “Who has died?”

Rohan went pale, but he swallowed and bravely said, “No one, sir. However, the three of us have not been assigned rooms. I trust there is a good reason.”

Henry and Adam exchanged a look of shock. Rohan’s accent was unbelievably upper-crust, but even more surprising was how he faced Lord Havelock without fear.

Lord Havelock also seemed taken aback, but he reached into a fold of his master’s gown and produced a small, grubby plaque.

“I’m afraid your nameplate was ordered late, and arrived only this morning,” Lord Havelock said, brushing past them. “And here we are, gentlemen. Your chambers.”

Lord Havelock stopped at a shabby wooden door across from the common room. It was not a grand door—the wood had gone warped in places, and the doorknob was made of unfinished wood rather than shining brass. Henry would have thought it was a broom cupboard if he had noticed it, but it was not a very noticeable sort of door.

Lord Havelock tacked the plaque—rather crookedly, in fact—to the door and, with a cold smile, turned on his heel and returned to his chambers.

“Shall we?” Adam asked, hand on the doorknob.

It wasn’t so bad. This was Henry’s first thought as he surveyed the room. Certainly it was a bit cramped with three beds, desks, and chairs—none of which matched. But the far wall held a lovely large latticed window that looked out onto an expanse of