suspecting that this isn’t the first thing to happen to the three of you?”

“How’d you know that?” Adam asked with surprise.

“Francesca told me about Henry’s being locked into the library overnight.”

“Right, that,” Henry said. It seemed like ages ago, what with Rohan’s allergic reaction, Adam’s being stabbed with the sword, and the burglary of their room.

“There isn’t more?” Professor Stratford asked, surprised.

With a sigh, Henry began to recount the events of the past two weeks.

“You’re right,” Professor Stratford said, pressing his fingertips to his temples. “It’s not Valmont.”

“But if it isn’t Valmont,” Rohan said, “we can’t figure out anyone else with a vendetta against all three of us.”

“I take it things are going better for you three socially?” Professor Stratford asked.

Henry nodded. “It’s really only Valmont and Theobold who are still bothering us. Everyone else has pretty much dropped it. And Edmund, one of the boys in our year, is quite friendly.”

“That’s wonderful,” the professor said, grinning.

Henry suddenly felt guilty for how infrequently he had visited his former tutor.

“So who do you think is behind everything, then?” asked Adam.

Professor Stratford shrugged. “I’m afraid I don’t know, although I’d love to have the answer to this one. But I can certainly guess why.”

“Really, sir?” Rohan asked curiously.

“I’ve heard a rumor,” Professor Stratford said, putting up a hand to discourage the boys from interrupting, “that your performance in lessons had been declining.”

“Lord Havelock,” Adam moaned, interrupting anyway.

“Not just Lord Havelock,” the professor said. “And I wonder if you boys know what is at stake if your marks aren’t high?”

Henry frowned. He was doing as well as could be expected in Lord Havelock’s class; his marks had greatly improved in protocol; languages, medicine, and ethics were a breeze; and he’d recently been promoted in fencing. Adam, though, was struggling. And Rohan had never been strong in Havelock’s class or in languages.

“What do you mean?” Henry asked.

“When Headmaster Winter opened the exam to commoners,” Professor Stratford continued, “many of the school trustees were unhappy. They voiced concern that perhaps they had made a mistake in selecting the new headmaster. But they agreed to withhold judgment until they saw how the common students performed once admitted to the academy.”

Henry stared at the professor in shock. He hadn’t known, but he should have guessed. “And if we perform poorly?” he asked.

“If any of you gives the board of trustees any reason for doubt, academic or otherwise, then they may remove Headmaster Winter from his post. The exam would go back to the way it was, and you would no longer be permitted to stay here as students.”

The boys exchanged a look of horror.

Not permitted to stay at Knightley? Henry’s heart raced at the thought. At the moment, he was doing well at lessons, but Henry couldn’t forget how close he had come to failing his quarter-term essay for Lord Havelock—how easily everything could shift toward the worst. What would become of him if he got kicked out? Certainly no other fancy school would want him—a disgraced orphan, recently given the boot from Knightley as a failed social experiment.

But it wasn’t just about what would become of him—the fate of Knightley Academy was at stake. If Henry and his friends failed, no other common boys would have a chance at becoming knights, and it would be their fault—his fault.

Suddenly, Henry felt sick.

Everything that had been happening to them—the threatening letters, the lost essay, being locked in the library, the nuts in the muffin, the unblunted sword, the burglary—was designed to make them fail.

It was sabotage after all. The warnings in those letters hadn’t just been empty threats.

“Thank you for telling us,” Henry said.

The professor’s expression softened. “Oh, Henry,” he said, as though they were back at the Midsummer School and once again Cook had refused Henry his supper for no specific offense.

“Really,” Henry stubbornly insisted. “We’ll do better. We have to. We can’t give whoever is doing these things the satisfaction.”

“I can call for some tea and biscuits, if you’d like,” Professor Stratford said kindly.

“No, thank you,” Adam said, and Henry stared at him in surprise. “We should be going.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Rohan mumbled.

Through an unspoken agreement, they took the servants’ staircase down and didn’t stop when they passed Frankie on their way out.

THE INTER-SCHOOL TOURNAMENT

Henry stayed behind after medicine the next day, telling his friends to save him a sandwich.

“Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Grim?” Sir Frederick asked, frowning as he rolled up his anatomy charts and fastened them shut.

“I was