It was long past time to stop lying to himself, Aiden realized as he spun through the movements. Fencing had always been a joy to him, something he’d learned when he was going through his growth spurt, turning the movements of his new body from startled awkwardness to smooth grace, turning growing pains into grown pleasure. Fencing was something he’d done with Harvard, the best game they’d ever been good at together. Pretending reluctance, being dragged by Harvard to matches, was part of the joy. It meant being on Harvard’s team, getting Harvard’s attention. Fencing meant that even though they were no longer children, they were always playing together.
Until now.
The sea breeze carried to Aiden the sound of measured footfalls on the earth. Aiden paused his drills and lowered his épée. Curious, he meandered toward the noise and spotted a boy in fencing whites with mussed golden hair and obnoxiously good posture who was running drills just as he had been doing. Jesse Coste.
What was Jesse doing, training at the very outskirts of camp? Aiden supposed the real question was, why would Jesse not want people to see him training? This Exton freshman was up to something.
Aiden couldn’t help recalling Seiji’s expression lately, the bleak blankness that was all Seiji let show when he was hurt. Aiden knew who was responsible.
Nicholas was a clumsy idiot, but he would rather cut off his left hand—his fencing hand—than hurt Seiji. However, one thing had been made very clear by the fencing match Seiji had lost to Jesse Coste, the match Aiden had seen. Jesse would hurt Seiji.
“Jesse,” Aiden purred.
Jesse paused his drills and raised a golden eyebrow as though it were a scepter. “Aiden?”
“Good news. As your elder, I’ve decided to share my wisdom with you.”
Jesse made a face. “I don’t want you to share your wisdom with me. You carry a teddy bear around with you wherever you go. You appear to have deep-seated emotional problems.”
“One day I’ll make some lucky therapist very happy,” Aiden confirmed. “For now, let’s not talk about the fascinating subject of me! Shall we discuss the much less interesting, and notably less attractive, subject of Seiji Katayama?”
Jesse went still and quiet. He was far more pleasant company that way.
“You know,” Aiden continued carelessly, “here’s a fun detail about Seiji! There are very few fun details about Seiji, so you might remember this one. When we were doing our fencing trials at Kings Row, I beat Seiji in a fencing match.”
Jesse raked his blue eyes down Aiden’s body, which was not a new experience for Aiden. Usually, when guys looked at him, Aiden knew what was on their mind. He also knew what was on Jesse’s mind.
Because Jesse was a tragic individual, Aiden was aware Jesse was definitely thinking about fencing.
“You?” said Jesse. “I’ve seen you during training. You’re nothing special. How could you beat Seiji?”
“Want to know?” Aiden gestured with his épée at Jesse. “Let’s have a match.”
He turned and headed for a grove amid the lemon trees. He didn’t look back and see if Jesse was following. Boys always did.
Jesse had his mask, so he slid it on. Jesse and Aiden inclined their heads to each other, assuming en garde position, acting precisely as though they were on a regular piste. Then Jesse sailed right into a lunge made with double disengage.
There was no way to stop Jesse from scoring a point. Aiden only just stopped himself from whistling. Jesse was as fast as the fastest fencer Aiden had ever seen; Jesse was as fast as Nicholas, but he had the same cut-glass, polished-to-perfection technique as Seiji.
Oh well. Aiden had his own skills.
He offered Jesse a dazzling smile. Jesse looked perturbed, as though he wasn’t used to his opponents radiating charm in his direction. “I beat Seiji the same way I beat all of them,” Aiden informed the younger boy. “I don’t beat them by being good. I beat them by making them feel bad about themselves. Would you know anything about that, Jesse?”
Jesse parried Aiden’s lunge, but only just. “No. I win through skill.”
“Funny,” said Aiden. “I had another match with Seiji later. He told me, I don’t employ cheap tricks. I’ll just beat you because I’m better than you. And he did. How about you?”
“It’s the same for me.”
“Is it?” asked Aiden. “That’s how you beat Seiji? You were absolutely confident that you were better than him? You weren’t even tempted to employ a cheap trick?”
Aiden scored a point. Jesse’s blue eyes flared indignation behind the mask. Aiden kept smiling.
“Of course not!”
“Peculiar,” Aiden remarked nonchalantly. “Seiji’s lost matches before. He didn’t even bear a grudge against me when I won, and plenty of people would have. He’s not a sore loser. Yet after losing a match to you, he leaves for France, then he goes to Kings Row. I wonder why Seiji thinks he lost to you?”
Their épées clashed, exchanging glancing blows, then Jesse came in hard.
“So what?” Jesse spat. “You think I hurt his feelings so much that he decided to throw away his whole future and go fence at Kings Row? That’s why now whenever I see him he’s in the company of that other boy, which I know he’s doing to punish me—”
“It’s all about you, isn’t it, Jesse?” asked Aiden. “Not sure that’s a great quality for a captain to have. I know what a great captain looks like… and it’s nothing like you.”
Jesse wasn’t listening. He scored another point with Aiden, using his speed but very little finesse. Now that Aiden was watching him more closely, Aiden wasn’t sure that Jesse was as fast as Nicholas. Maybe close, but not quite.
Seiji would know.
Jesse sounded a little short of breath. “Maybe you have to employ tricks to win, but not me. I’m the best.”
He stated it as if it was an undeniable fact, the one absolute truth in the universe.
“You seem very invested in that, Jesse,” said Aiden. “What happens if you’re not the best? Ever think of that? Or wait, let me guess. You think about that all the time, don’t you?”
Jesse said, “Shut up.”
Aiden won another point and pursued his advantage. “Was it worth winning, Jesse? Are you happy all by yourself?”
“How am I all by myself? Exton’s a big school,” said Jesse, who appeared to have caught fatal pragmatism from Seiji Katayama, like a fencing partner–transmitted disease. “Far bigger than yours.”
“Has it occurred to you that Seiji’s not punishing you?” Aiden asked. “It doesn’t matter what you think about how that match went. It doesn’t matter what I think—”
Jesse scoffed. “It certainly doesn’t.”
Luckily, Jesse had charm, because the kid was not tactful.
“It matters what Seiji thinks,” Aiden finished. “He’s distanced himself from you as far as he could. You used to be inseparable, but maybe that’s all over. Maybe he’s realized you aren’t worth the trouble. Maybe he’s realized he should never have believed in you. Maybe he’s just done with you.”
He saw Jesse flinch, and he sympathized.