said.

“In what?” Henry asked.

“Pure stupidity.” Rohan rolled his eyes at Adam.

Adam composed himself, only to burst out laughing once more.

“Get over it, Adam,” Henry snapped, and then said, “Sorry. It’s just that I found something quite serious last night.”

“Last night when you were wandering around Partisan Keep instead of being asleep?” Rohan asked, his face impassive.

“You knew?” Henry asked, shocked.

“I heard you get up,” Rohan said. “But I wasn’t going to follow you and get expelled.”

“You could have taken me with you,” Adam whined.

“Well, I didn’t know that I’d find anything,” Henry said.

“We still don’t know what you found,” Rohan said pointedly. “And I’ve just embarrassed myself over it, so this better truly be huge.”

“It is,” Henry said. “I found this door hidden in the wall paneling near that fish statue on the first floor. Anyway, the door led to this huge room full of practice weapons and charts.”

“What, like fencing?” Rohan asked.

Henry shook his head. “The Partisan students are being trained in combat.”

“What?” Rohan practically yelled.

“Shhhhh!” Henry said.

“Sorry.” Rohan lowered his voice. “Proper combat? You’re certain?”

Henry nodded and told his friends the rest of it: what he’d seen in detail, how he’d almost been caught, and how he’d escaped without any proof.

“We have to tell someone,” Adam said.

“Wait here. I’ll get Lord Havelock,” Rohan said dryly.

But then a thought occurred to Henry.

Lord Havelock. Military history.

Yesterday’s quiz question: “At what age did pre–Longsword Treaty conscription laws bind boys to military service?”

And the answer: thirteen.

“Wait,” Henry said, realization dawning.

“I wasn’t really going to get Lord Havelock,” Rohan said with a puzzled look in Henry’s direction.

“No, not that,” Henry said. “Conscription laws. No one’s changed them since before the Longsword Treaty. If we go to war with the Nordlands, every boy over thirteen will have to fight.”

“But I thought those laws were just ancient history,” Adam said nervously.

“Well, that’s what I thought about war,” Henry said. “And now Partisan is training its students in combat. I’m certain of it. And if we tell anyone about this, there’s going to be a war.”

“There’s going to be a war anyway,” Rohan said. “Why else would you train in combat?”

Henry hadn’t thought of it that way. But then he thought of something else.

“I don’t know,” he said, “but do you remember the first lesson we had in military history? Adam got kicked out because he didn’t know the answer and—”

“Oi, watch it, mate!” Adam said.

“Sorry,” Henry said quickly. “But, Rohan, you remember, don’t you? What Lord Havelock said?”

Rohan nodded gravely. “Commoners captured in battle rot in prison cells. Only nobility are ransomed.”

“We’re going to rot in prison cells?” Adam whined.

“No, we’re not,” Henry said firmly. “Because there’s not going to be a war. Someone will draw up a new treaty and everything will be fine.”

“I don’t know,” Rohan said. “It seems to me that the Nordlands have been wanting a war for a long time.”

And even though he didn’t want to admit it, Henry knew that his friend was right. War was coming with the force of a tempest. War against the Nordlands, the likes of which they had only read about in history books.

And they would have to fight.

And so would every other boy over thirteen—unless there was something they could do to stop it.

“Sir Frederick will know what to do,” Henry said.

Comforted by the thought, he stared out the window at the passing landscape, trying not to picture the frosted ground littered with the fallen bodies of his classmates, or packed fresh with their unmarked graves.

A STORY WITHOUT PROOF

Henry, Adam, and Rohan had barely opened the door to their room before Frankie was tossing rocks at their window.

Exhausted from the journey and the walk back from the train station, Henry wanted to do nothing more than stretch out on his soft bed and fall asleep. Instead, he pushed open the window.

“Come outside,” Frankie shouted merrily.

It was getting colder on the school grounds, and brightly colored leaves that had crunched under their feet only a week ago were now turning to soggy mulch.

The four friends met by the bench outside the entrance to the hedge maze, stamping their feet to keep warm.

“I’m only free until supper,” Frankie said hurriedly. “My grandmother’s gone shopping and taken Professor Stratford along to carry her purchases.”

“I’ll bet he loves that,” Henry said wryly.

“She’s never leaving,” Frankie said with anguish. “I swear she isn’t. Every day I think it’s her last but she just stays, like my personal circle of infinite hell.”

“Well, your grandmother is the least of our