“Now tell your friends to meet me in the armory in ten minutes.”

“What about breakfast?” Adam asked stubbornly when Henry related the message.

“I’d expect,” Rohan said, “that breakfast is the time you’re least likely to be caught.”

“You mean we,” Henry said.

“I most certainly don’t.” Rohan gave Henry and Adam a severe look and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Girls in the room at night. Fencing girls on school grounds. I’ll be in the library, studying the passé composé. You’ll let me know the outcome, I expect?”

“Rohannnnn,” Adam whined. “Forget the passé composé. Come on. We’re not forbidden from going into the armory. We’re not forbidden from seeing Frankie during the weekend, in a classroom.”

“The Code of Chivalry,” Rohan said stiffly, folding his arms across his chest. “You can’t fight girls.”

“I gave my word,” Adam said. “You all heard me last night. It was a wager. Only a coward like Valmont would break his word to a lady.”

Rohan sighed. “I’ll keep lookout,” he announced.

“Thank you,” Adam said.

“Come on, we’d better go,” Henry said.

Frankie had already changed into her fencing gear when they arrived. She handed Adam a foil and asked with a frown, “Where’s Rohan?”

“Keeping lookout,” Henry said with a warning glance at Adam.

Adam, for once, kept his mouth shut about Rohan’s refusal to take part in their illicit fencing match.

“Well, Henry can referee,” Frankie said.

“Wait, I hardly know anything about fencing,” Henry protested.

“A hit is valid anywhere on the torso,” Frankie said, “and you’ll know about right of way?”

“Er, a little.”

“If a hit is scored without a riposte, arm signal, or forward step, it doesn’t count,” she said. “That’s it. Adam, you ready?”

“No,” Adam complained, holding up the gear that Frankie had brought. “This is huge on me.”

Frankie bit her lip. “It’s my father’s. I thought it best not to borrow school equipment. Can you go without?”

Adam pushed up his sleeves. “Why not? After all, I’m fencing a girl.”

Frankie’s eyes gleamed.

“Take that back,” she demanded, striking an “on guard” position. She was left-handed, Henry suddenly realized.

“Make me, fair damsel.” Adam grinned.

“First to five hits?” she asked.

Frankie, in her full fencing gear, and Adam, in his glove, mask, and shirtsleeves, readied themselves on opposite ends of the piste. They saluted each other with their swords, and then turned and saluted Henry.

“Ready?” Henry called from the midpoint. “And fence.”

Frankie sprang forward, her sword extended. Adam met her sword with his, and they parried so rapidly that all Henry saw was a blur of metal dancing forward and backward across the piste.

Suddenly, Frankie’s back arm went down to signal an attack and she lunged forward, leading with her blunt-tipped sword straight into Adam’s stomach.

“Hit!” she called, looking to Henry for confirmation. He nodded.

“One-zero, Winter,” Henry called. “And fence!”

Again, their swords clashed, and again, the point went to Frankie.

Adam managed a swift hit, and then Frankie retaliated.

“Three-one, Winter,” Henry called. “And fence!”

Adam shot forward, and so did Frankie. Their swords met, and Frankie riposted, freeing her sword to the outside. Even though he didn’t have the right of way, Adam struck out, and Frankie, surprised by Adam’s move, did as well.

Her sword struck Adam’s exposed arm.

The point was blunted for practice, but it had been the edge that caught Adam just above the elbow.

An angry red welt sprang there, trickling blood into the crook of his arm.

Frankie stared in shock, her hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry!” she cried.

“It’s fine,” Adam said stiffly.

But it wasn’t fine. It wouldn’t stop bleeding, even when Henry bound Frankie’s ribbon around it the way Sir Frederick had shown them.

Rohan poked his head into the armory.

“It’s awful quiet in here,” he said, and then saw Henry rewrapping the blood-spotted ribbon around Adam’s arm. “Oh. Er, that looks bad.”

“It’s fine,” Adam said crossly. “Just a scratch. Can we get back to the match?”

Henry nearly laughed.

“The match is over,” Henry said. “It’s a draw.”

He shot Frankie a look daring her to argue otherwise.

“We should take him to the sick matron,” Rohan said.

“And say what?” Henry asked. “Sorry, we were fencing without proper padding and with no supervision, please don’t tell Lord Havelock?”

“I’m fine,” Adam insisted, and then he looked down at his arm and winced. “That’s a lot of blood,” he said weakly.

“Sir Frederick!” Henry said. “We’ll take him to Sir Frederick. He’s medicine master, he’ll know what to do. And he wouldn’t tell Lord Havelock.”

“Let’s go,” Frankie said.

“Frankie,” Adam said. “Can I lean on you for support since I’m dying of blood loss?”

Frankie rolled her eyes. “Is he