the point of his sword circling. Henry focused as well. The world slowed until it was just this bout, just his hand in its suede glove with the blunt-tipped foil, and Valmont’s white cotton target zone.

And there! Henry’s back arm went down in signal, and he drove the foil forward, scoring an undeniable hit.

“Hit,” Henry called tersely. “One-zero.”

Valmont said nothing, only took his stance and rushed forward so quickly that Henry could barely react before he’d been struck on the rib cage.

“Hit! One-one,” Valmont called.

And then Adam screamed.

Henry turned.

Theobold stood there, his mouth open in horror, the tip of his foil strangely wet.

No, not wet.

Covered with blood.

Adam’s hand clutched at his side and then came away. There was a neat hole in his cotton vest, ringed red with blood.

“I’m dying,” Adam accused, his voice muffled by the visor.

Everyone had stopped.

Henry threw down his sword and rushed over, helping Adam into a sitting position on the floor. Theobold just stood there, staring down at Adam in shock.

“It wasn’t blunted,” Theobold mumbled, as though in disbelief.

Henry took off Adam’s mask, revealing Adam’s face to be ghostly pale, his dark curls sticking to his soaked forehead.

“How deep is it?” Henry asked.

“Not so bad,” Adam said weakly, trying to move his hand away to give Henry a look.

“Keep the pressure on,” Henry snapped.

The fencing master had reached them. “What’s happened?” he asked.

“Theobold’s weapon wasn’t blunted,” Henry said.

“Take him to the sick matron,” the fencing master told Henry and Valmont.

Henry stared at Valmont in horror.

Theobold had lost the first bout against Valmont. He hadn’t even scored a hit. In all rights, Theobold was supposed to fence Henry. But Valmont had switched it. First the letters, then the library, then the nuts in the muffin, and now the unblunted sword. It kept getting worse.

“Yes, sir,” Henry told the fencing master a beat too late. He helped Adam to his feet. “You helping or not?” Henry snarled at Valmont.

Valmont shook his head slightly, as though clearing it. “If I have to,” he said, hoisting up Adam’s other side.

Slowly, they made their way to the sick bay.

“You again!” the matron said, frowning at Henry, but then she saw Adam and her face wrinkled with concern. “Och, you poor dearie! What’s happened to you?”

“My number’s up,” Adam said weakly, wincing as Henry helped him onto a cot.

“Your number’s not up,” Henry said, and then realized Valmont was still there, watching silently.

“We don’t need you anymore,” Henry said. “Go back to fencing.”

Without a word, Valmont left.

“That was supposed to be me,” Henry whispered half to himself, sitting down in an armchair by the cot.

The matron was peeling off Adam’s fencing gear.

“There now,” she clucked when she saw the wound. “Just a flesh wound, my love. Just flesh.”

“I’m staying with him,” Henry said, daring the sick matron to disagree.

“Better ways to clear one’s guilt,” she mumbled.

“I didn’t do this,” Henry protested. “I’m his friend.”

And I’m supposed to be there, in his place, Henry thought.

“I can’t believe I let him score a hit,” Adam said, wincing as the sick matron kneaded the skin near his cut.

“Yeah, what was that?” Henry joked. “Theobold’s a worse fencer than I am.”

“I know!” Adam said with feeling. Then his face crumpled with pain. “If I weren’t so—owww, that stings!—confident in my talents with a sword, I’d have quite a complex from this. First Frankie and then Theobold.”

The matron finished binding cloth around Adam’s middle and brought him a patient’s gown.

“Ugh, no!” Adam protested. “I’ll wear my shirt.”

“Your shirt’s got a great bloody hole through the side,” Henry reminded him.

“Exactly,” Adam said. “It’s rather heroic.”

Henry helped Adam put on the shirt. It was rather heroic, he had to admit.

“You need to rest,” the sick matron told Adam. “And your friend needs to leave.”

Henry pretended to gather his things, and Adam pulled up the thin sheet and pretended to go to sleep.

Satisfied, the sick matron went into her office and shut the door.

“She’s gone,” Adam said, opening one eye.

“Finally.”

Henry unfastened the neck of his fencing kit and briefly debated whether he should mention that Adam hadn’t been meant to fence Theobold.

“Bloody Valmont,” Adam said. “Did you see his face when he helped bring me here? He was as white as this scratchy, horrible sheet, and he couldn’t say a word for the life of him.”

“I noticed,” Henry said. “But this is really bad. Even for Valmont. I mean, you could have died.”

“Have a bit more faith in my fencing talent, Grim,” Adam said, and then put a hand