People were stunned in the following weeks when Hale and Cory popped up to my side at our higher physical education classes or even Latin, calling me Rottings and laughing with me.

Most of the boys stopped playing ball outside since it was cold and some played chess (like me) or read books. The rowdy bunch like Clive played cards and soon I was pulled into it too.

Wyatt had started talking to me but I found out from Clive that surprisingly, Hale and Cory were partners and Wyatt was stuck with William Crawford.

William Crawford was a refuge from what where called the Eastern countries. Look wise he had monolid eyes and silky black hair he kept past the nape of his neck, which Wyatt always said was 'too' feminine.

However, I got along with William Crawford.

William Crawford wasn't as haughty as Samuel, who only spoke to Clive, but ranked fifth or sixth in our year. He didn't care about Wyatt and he would ignore any insults Wyatt said.

Will, as I began to call him, because Crawford wasn't really his family name, seemed to enjoy our chess sessions, too. We often went to the lounge, me with Clive and the other boys.

I wasn't one for pretending to be friends and extremely competitive so cards weren't fun and Will always sat in the corner so we played. We didn't had forced idle chatter and he wasn't upset at his losses.

After each move I took a long time, maybe five to ten minutes depending on how my enemy moved, he waited patiently, studying his own moves and calculating. He took even longer, but I appreciated how after each game he would ask me how I planned it and I would explain as the boys at Clive's table hollered over some loss.

They gambled with fake chips, and although teachers sometimes went to our lounge to see we didn't misbehave we had the top students in our grade. Me.Abel said nothing and always just peeked in and at our sudden silence, snicker before he left.

Mr.Abel taught Literature and would be strict in his class, wanting some profound interpretations even though our muscles were aching after our previous training.

Yet as a Dean he wasn't scary at all and hardly anyone got suspended. There were two possibilities, one was fighting, which was more common than not in a school for knights, and the second was cheating on tests, also shameful for knight to be's.

So we played in our lounge with the fireplace, sometimes Clive and the rest would roast chestnuts and we ate some. Other lounges were different, ours was for eleventh years and since chess and cards dominated, that's how it was. Most boys stayed in their rooms after classes or went to clubs.

We snuck past the twelfth year lounge once and we heard violin playing, and peeked in to see they were like some clowns. Some stood up on tables and sang as music played, and others were tossing beanbags into a hole on a board.

Although ours were more quiet as the boys who weren't affiliated with chess or cards mainly read books or talked amongst them, it was much more enjoyable.

I had never went to the lounge when it was just me, but Clive had brought me here along with Hale and Cory. Only Wyatt still talked over me in conversations with Clive and acted as thought Clive was his.

"You know we have a special winter excursion when it snows?" someone said at the cards table and we all turned to Cory.

"Wait, really?" Clive asked.

"Yeah, the eleven years and twelve years will fight in a forest full of snow. They choose teams of four and the worst thing is they have experience," Cory continued.

"Who'd you hear this from?" Hale asked.

"My older brother, duh."

My two older brothers both never taught me shit about Graycotts Academy lessons.

"Worse is the test is two full days. My brother and his friends who stayed up started getting really sick and tired. It's a test of endurance, like hunting a prey," Cory said, face in a frown.

"What about it? I bet I can do it, unless my partner screws it up." Wyatt didn't look over but Will didn't bat an eye either.

"Hey, we should practice!" Clive was grinning again.

Was he crazy? We had another mission next weekend and he had an injury.

We had killed probably more than ten or close to twenty rebels, always killing them in twos or ones, Fridays or weekends. Sometimes we had two assignments in a week. I began killing after the second incident where the rebel tried to attack me. I simply imagined their faces as the Headmaster's and like Clive, I did close combat too.

These criminals we killed weren't often trained in fighting or defense but we got two rebels that were lined with muscles last week. Clive and I had to cut their tendons as they fought back, and Clive got a deep wound on his left arms. I had strangulation marks on my neck.

Clive could barely ride his horse and we got back late.

Clive had touched my neck and said he was glad he killed that asshole, but his bleeding arm was far more painful.

He still trained, though, with his focused face—not showing any signs of pain. I had been so affected by a small cut to my finger but Clive forced himself to keep training. Only nights after we showered I changed his bloodied bandages he winced and sighed at the immobility he had.

"We can train next month, snow won't be falling yet," I said, eying Clive. Clive noticed but smirked.

"Sure, Nathan. You'll be on my team this time, though!"

"Then we should pair up," Hale said to Cory. Wyatt didn't look up but we knew this time he'd have to work with Will.

"Are you fine working with that?" I whispered to Will, jutting out my chin to Wyatt's direction.

"The Whitecrosses are too high in power, I'll have to listen to him," Will muttered. "Also, I made my chess move."

I scanned the chessboard but kept talking, "Why does he not change partners?"

"Because he need my help," Will said. "Only sometimes, I don't want to help. I think to myself that it'll be fine, that if I wait a while he'll grow afraid and attach himself to me like a dog." He laughed, but the sound wasn't that of joy.

And it scared me, because I thought of the same things.

When Clive ran to me and I saw the injury I thought that maybe, with such a handicap he would lose fights, be scared, and stick by me.

But nothing fazed him.

Mr.Abel poked his head in again and told us this time to go to clean the lounge up and go to dinner. We hopped up and usually placed our items as it was, and Will and I kept our pieces untouched, and we switched off the two lightbulbs we had and filed out.

Clive grabbed me and with the same smile, whispered to me.

"Don't worry about me, my arm is better." I narrowed my eyes, knowing he simply said that.

At night Clive was on my bed again, fresh from the shower. My hair had dried but his were still a bit damp. It was funny when his hair didn't have volume, it seemed like a wet dog.

I dabbed the alcohol on the cotton we got from the infirmary, cleaning up the crusted blood and eventually parts of the cut. It was raw and red inside, and I wished it'd heal soon.

"I don't like thinking of you as a being with blood and flesh," I whispered. "I wish you were made from flowers or gold. Something that didn't hurt and break."

"What are you saying?" Clive giggled. "That's creepy."

"Will said he wanted to break Wyatt one day. I don't know but it seemed serious. Partners should be trustworthy, be someone you can confide in and like."

I looked at Clive and he leaned forward, kissing me softly, lips parting but not thirsty. He was tender.

He looked at me and smiled with a tint of sadness.

"What was that?" I asked.

"I just love you and your way of thinking. I'm really lucky to have you as my partner," Clive said.

I focused on wiping the rim of his injury. It was so strange—I had wanted to kiss him in that moment too. It was like he could read my mind.

"Don't hurt yourself." I finally started bandaging this injury again, and in that moment, the two of us side by side at night made me nostalgic for our summer days without killing.

"You either."

I want to be lovers," I said after a very long pause. "But we will have to be lovers in secret, that's my condition. And as for physical love—lust is a sin, I would like to keep it, well, minimal." I closed my eyes. "Yes, that's all—"

"Wait, Nathan!" Clive stood up and reached out to me like a ballet dancer in the white pants and how his hair floated down slowly.

He looked like a white swan rather than prince.

"We don't need to do anything physical if you don't want to."

I was stunned and felt the blush arriving.

"I want to," I whispered. "Or rather, I'd like to try. Goodnight!"

The candles had made Clive's face angelic and soft. I turned and quickly blew out the candle.

"Goodnight, Nathan," I heard him say. He giggled, and I hid under my blanket, but I was smiling this time.