buttering them.

He tried to imagine what it would be like to work in the stifling kitchens again, hastily eating a slice of bread before serving hot meals to the boys who sat in their uniforms, laughing and joking at the tables. Surely a few months at Knightley hadn’t changed him too much to humble himself with servants’ work, studying his books in the evenings.

But as soon as he thought this, Henry wondered if he was going mad. Things couldn’t go back to the way they were before Knightley. He had changed. And no one would ever believe the truth about the Nordlands if he were nothing but a lowly servant.

No, it would be horrible if he and Adam were expelled. Not just horrible but catastrophic.

Henry passed half of his stack of toast to Adam, and said, “Let’s go.”

“We can’t eat here?” Adam whined.

“We’re in the way,” Henry said. “And anyway, we need to see Sir Frederick.”

“What for?”

“Character recommendations for our hearing.”

“Oh, right,” Adam said with a longing glance at the teapot.

“I can take the service to Sir Frederick’s office, if he’s ordered one,” Henry told Liza, knowing that Sir Frederick rarely ate his meals at the High Table.

“Well, I never!” Liza said, putting her hand to her chest. “If that ain’t the kindest thing.”

Henry took the tea service from Liza and promised to come back and visit soon, though he doubted he’d be around long enough for that.

Sir Frederick was in his office when the boys arrived, sorting a box of microscope slides.

“Come in, boys,” Sir Frederick said, and Henry set the tea service on the professor’s desk with a bow, just as he had at the Midsummer School.

Adam snorted.

“What seems to be amusing, Mr. Beckerman?” Sir Frederick asked, squinting at a glass slide.

“Nothing, sir,” Adam said. “Well, it’s just, Professor Turveydrop used to yell at Henry for bowing like—”

“Like a servant bringing in the tea,” Henry finished with a smile. It was funny, come to think of it.

Sir Frederick took an austere sip of his tea and raised an eyebrow. “How can I help you boys?”

“We were hoping for character recommendations,” Henry said. “We’ve been suspended, and the board of trustees makes the final ruling as to whether we’re to be expelled.”

“I’m aware of that,” Sir Frederick said, clattering his teacup into its saucer. “But I am also a member of the board of trustees, and that capacity prevents me from being able to speak in your behalf.”

Henry tried not to let his despair show. He’d been counting on Sir Frederick to help them.

“Thank you anyway,” Henry said. “We should be getting to our detention.”

“The common good will prevail,” Sir Frederick called after them.

In the hallway, Henry groaned.

“Sorry it didn’t work out, mate,” Adam said. “What about Professor Lingua?”

“Forget it,” Henry said moodily.

“It was just a suggestion,” Adam huffed, handing Henry his napkin-wrapped stack of toast. “Now eat your breakfast. I’m sick of holding it.”

Henry bit into a piece of toast. It had already gone cold.

Not like it mattered.

THE SABOTEUR REVEALED

Lord Havelock smiled nastily when Henry and Adam turned up at his office.

“Ah, yes,” he said, his dark eyes glittering. “The two detainees. I can’t say I’m surprised.”

With a sweep of his master’s gown, Lord Havelock rose from his chair and glared down at Henry and Adam. “Come with me,” he said, marching smartly down the corridor. “And don’t”—he cringed—“slam the door.”

“Sorry,” Adam said.

Lord Havelock sneered.

“I have other priorities besides babysitting the two of you,” Lord Havelock continued. “You will do as I say, and you will do so diligently. If you cause trouble, I will see to it that you are expelled, do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” the boys chorused.

Lord Havelock stopped abruptly outside the library. “In,” he said.

They went in.

Lord Havelock led them up to the small reading room, and suddenly Henry had a very bad feeling.

“Lines,” Lord Havelock demanded, slamming two small, dusty clothbound books onto the table.

“How many, sir?” Henry asked, staring dubiously at the books.

Lord Havelock produced a sheaf of paper and two pens from a fold in his master’s gown. “By this evening I shall expect not two but four copies of that book.”

Adam’s mouth fell open in protest.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Beckerman?” Lord Havelock demanded.

“No, sir,” Adam mumbled.

“I didn’t think so,” Lord Havelock continued. “You shall be fed again when you’ve finished. And if there is so much as a comma out of place, you’ll redo the section, is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Henry and Adam said miserably.

“Well, what are you standing