“You haven’t done anything yet,” Nicholas reminded him. “You haven’t won your match against Seiji. And Harvard hasn’t lost his. I don’t think he will.” He turned to Seiji. “You agree with me, right?”
Seiji gave some thought to the matter. “I’m not certain. In terms of skill, Bastien and Harvard seem fairly evenly matched.”
“Seiji!” Nicholas shoved him. “Where is your team loyalty? He’s our captain! He’s the best captain ever.”
“My personal feelings about Harvard and Bastien as individuals don’t matter, Nicholas,” said Seiji. “Fencing is a game of skill.”
Jesse raised a golden eyebrow. “What was your captain ranked again? Thirty-third?”
“He should be ranked higher,” Seiji responded in his coolest, most analytical tone. “He’s good at defense, but he’s flawed when it comes to attacking. He has trouble with his low lines, because he’s tall, which I’ve spoken to him about extensively. Yet instead of concentrating on working on his weak points, Harvard spends a great deal of his free time developing plans for his team and guiding us through drills.”
“So you’re saying he focuses on the wrong things,” said Jesse.
“No,” Seiji returned, level. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
If Nicholas hadn’t known Seiji, he would have thought Seiji was entirely indifferent to Jesse’s needling. Unfortunately, Nicholas was keenly aware that Seiji was holding himself with so much tension that Nicholas worried he might snap, as even a great sword might when too much pressure was exerted on the steel. Nicholas wished he could help. He wished he could hit Jesse. But he’d promised Seiji he would stay beside him at the party, and he hadn’t kept his promise. The least he could do was stay by Seiji’s side now.
They walked toward the edge of the trees, heading for the winding road and the botanical gardens.
“What’s your plan, then?” asked Jesse.
“It’s gonna take some good old-fashioned Kings Row teamwork,” said Nicholas, and nodded toward the trees.
Bobby and Dante were there. Dante regarded Jesse with silent disdain, which was how Dante regarded everyone. Bobby, who’d been fully briefed that Jesse was the enemy, restricted his natural exuberance to a small wave at Marcel. Thawing slightly, Marcel waved back.
“You invited all of Kings Row to our conversation?” asked Jesse.
“So, here’s the plan,” said Nicholas, ignoring him. “We’re going to sneak into the salle during the big party.”
Jesse scoffed. “Surely it would be a better idea to sneak in at midnight, once everybody is asleep.”
“You’re an amateur at crime, Jesse,” said Nicholas loftily. “The coaches here are all obsessed with curfews. If a noise wakes them at night, we’re all sunk. If they find us when they’re patrolling, we’re all sunk. The party is when they’ll be distracted. The party’s our chance. Our teammate Eugene says he’ll pretend not to feel well so that we can sneak away. And Bobby and Dante will sneak down to the harbor tonight. If we’re not back and people start asking about us, they’ll create another distraction and a call for help, so everyone will go looking for them and not us.”
Jesse’s voice went captainly again. “You two will get kicked out of Camp Menton.”
Dante asked, “Promise?”
“If necessary, I’m going to fling myself in the water!” Bobby announced with huge excitement. “Dante will be there to make sure nothing bad happens to me.”
He squeezed Dante’s forearm appreciatively. Dante, who hadn’t been in favor of the Bobby flinging himself in the water idea, looked less grim.
“Thanks for helping, both of you,” said Seiji.
The tips of Bobby’s ears went pink. Nicholas also found the measured amount of warmth in Seiji’s voice touching.
“Is this what it’s like at Kings Row?” demanded Jesse.
Bobby didn’t seem to hear Jesse, distracted first by Seiji’s praise and then by a horrible realization. “I can’t believe we’re missing Harvard’s match,” Bobby said wistfully.
As if uttering Harvard’s name was a summoning spell, a tall boy slipped between one shadow and the next, moving in long strides like a predator.
“I, too, can’t believe you’re missing Harvard’s match,” drawled Aiden Kane. “I can’t believe you’re making me miss Harvard’s match. What are you planning, freshmen?”
32 HARVARD
Before the match with Bastien started, Harvard had to endure several more trainees coming over and being sympathetic to him. It seemed Harvard had made some friends at Camp Menton. It also seemed as though his new friends were all convinced Harvard was going to get his ass handed to him.
He could deal with that.
As they all gathered around the piste, before Harvard and Bastien began their match, Harvard saw Aiden coming. For a moment, there was a burst of ease and freedom in Harvard’s chest, the same feeling he got watching a flock of birds alighting from a tree into the air. He thought Aiden would come over and speak to him. Aiden always told him that he was the best captain, the best ever, with faith in Harvard that Harvard had never been able to summon in himself. He hadn’t needed to. Aiden was always there.
Aiden made eye contact with Harvard for a moment. Then Aiden averted his eyes and walked directly over to Bastien.
Harvard watched the lovely, wicked curve of Aiden’s smile as he whispered something in Bastien’s ear. That was much harder to deal with than anything else.
Aiden spoke far too low for anyone but Bastien to catch, but his tone was carried on the warm Mediterranean breeze. Aiden’s voice sounded warmer than the breeze, dark and sweet at once, like honey being poured in the shadows.
Harvard dragged his eyes away and searched the spectators to find a friendly face. He would’ve liked to see Nicholas there to encourage Harvard to believe in himself.
He couldn’t see Nicholas. He couldn’t see anyone.
When the time came for his match, he didn’t see many Kings Row students there to cheer him on. Eugene was there, but not Nicholas, nor Seiji. Even Aiden seemed to have disappeared. Harvard could hardly believe it. He felt oddly bereft, as though he were expected to fence without his épée or his plastron. He always had his team to think of.
A flash of red and white caught his eye. “Go, Harvard!” yelled Coach Williams. “I have money on this, and I don’t want to lose it. Teachers’ salaries are shamefully low!”
His coach was there to support him, but she didn’t need him to support her. Coach had said to Harvard once, Remember there’s a me in team. There was nobody for Harvard to worry about except himself. There was nothing he could do for his team but be the best fencer he could be.
There was something almost freeing in that. He took a deep breath of air, finding steadiness in this strange place.
Well, Harvard thought. Time to find out what he could do.
He stepped out onto the piste, the steel strips reflecting the evening-sky blue of the domed ceiling.
Other people were defeated by Aiden all the time. Harvard always beat Aiden. He’d always believed it was because Aiden wouldn’t hurt Harvard on purpose, wouldn’t cut at Harvard with his sharp tongue until Harvard flinched like all the rest, but Aiden said it was because Harvard was always sure with him.