Make my father the new king?

I sat between my brothers and Clive the next morning. We waited in silence for the sisters who came down late, because they had to dress up, fix their hair, and even accessorize.

I had declined and Clive didn't seem surprised, and then he pulled me up and I sat on his bed for a while before I left.

Even now, I was stunned to know that I didn't want to be a knight anymore. But I'd have to continue to succeed in Graycotts unless I wanted Clive to fail.

Since now it didn't matter which sister Jonathan chose, I asked Richie when father was returning.

"Strangely the master changed the date recently without giving reason, he'll arrive after you return to Graycotts Academy, so the middle of August," Richie said.

"As expected," I murmured.

I left the hall feeling sick to my stomach. Jonathan might be swayed by father now that his new family will be a new pawn, and Daniel wouldn't fight back. But father betraying His Majesty seemed so unthinkable.

I thought of Goldenvale and how we children all wanted to be a knight—to be of use to our country of gold. What a joke!

A few nights later I invited Clive over to my room. I had a bottle of wine from Daniel and although I hadn't drank it before I prepared two glasses and poured myself a drink first.

It tasted sweet and bitter and I enjoyed it. Daniel had called it "dry" but to me it tasted fine.

Clive sneaked in and I lit lanterns so he could sit at my small bedside table on my bed.

"Are you still not feeling good after that night?" he whispered. We didn't want to be heard.

"You know something? It's the most loyal people who have access to ruin you most." I looked at Clive. "The person you trust most can hurt you most, too."

"And?" Clive held in a smile. "Getting philosophical when drunk, huh? I didn't expect this from you, Rottings."

"Shut up. Drink," I slurred.

The light danced on Clive's face as he drank, like a grownup.

We were eighteen now. We didn't celebrate birthdays after we reached five and ten because it meant we would 'most likely' survive, so every new year we had we were that age.

"We will be twelve years soon, and then take the knight exams." I reached out to touch Clive's hair and his ears again. "We will kill again. I don't want that."

"We have half a month before that," he said.

"No. I want the pleasure I had with you, but I won't be returning to the academy," I said. "I'm sure."

"You're leaving me?" His voice grew and his wineglass hit the table in shock.

"What can I do? I guess I shall match with Daniel. Two sons with eyepatches." I laughed to myself, feeling warm and 'tipsy' or how people describe the feeling.

Clive stood up and dragged my out of the chair and to my bed.

"Don't leave me, Nathan, you're all I have!" He kissed me without cease.

"No! I can't go back to academy now!" I was shouting with my voice as low as possible, thinking and fearing that white mask on that eerie Headmaster. "Leave. I can't believe this."

"No! We are partners. I need to be with you—I will be with you."

I closed my eyes and I couldn't cry, I simply disregarded my sadness to hold onto Clive. We fell to bed, clothed and just warming each other, fitting like two jigsaw puzzles.

I needed him...but can he save me?

Did he even want to save me?

***

Summer passed and Lilith was engaged. Clive had told me the maids said Lucia was fickle and played many men before. Jonathan was not to be like the other men and confuse her allure over Lilith's intensive knowledge and very apparent want for childbearing.

I had to leave just as father, Richie said, was coming back later that week. Jonathan talked about how Lilith will stay there and meet father. Lucia seemed sad to part with Lilith for a moment, then she was leaving with us and laughing over something trivial.

Clive and I returned to the academy the day before classes began, like most boys. We were given a better room with more space but the same setup, desk, bed, bed, desk.

When we stepped out the next day, wearing our coats of black and pins of accomplishment on our uniform, special patterned ties and more pins on it, the new boys were eying us.

Although they whispered it brought me back to those days when boys talked about Clive, the golden one, the most handsome boy, athletic, too! They would watch in awe and now boys of two grades watched me and turned their eyes from me when I looked at them.

"He's Nathaniel Rottings!" I heard someone say that first week, watching Clive and I do some sparring for exercise.

The subsequent weeks and month passed, and of course now about Clive and I, coming in first and second, respectively. Clive noticed my strange faltering and would always say to me, "Remember, now you're everyone they want to be."

"It's unsettling, getting watched so much," I whispered.

"No, just straighten your back. Brush your hair back," he said, and leaned forward to brush a strand that escaped my gelled back hair.

He was right. After two months I was less stressed by the admiration than the memories of killing Vic. The Headmaster no longer called for me, but I was anxious. What if a superior team was there, killing rebels like we used to do? What if one day they refused, and we, as pawns of the Headmaster, had to fight them?

What if Clive got hurt? What if he died?

If so, I surely wouldn't live anymore.

With the new year Clive told us to form connections—although we still talked to Cory, Hale, and Will, we could get any peers we wanted. Clive said he heard which knight families would most likely work with my father.

I met those boys, respected and brave, they seemed to think it was natural Clive and I would want to be their friends. They began sitting with us and talk in their conceited and arrogant ways.

Arthur Mannings. Kieran Murrow. Noah Orwell. Archibald Moorcroft.

I despised them, but Will and Wyatt had fallen so low down in the rankings I knew I needed to befriend my enemies. I watched as their hungry eyes took in all of Clive, still charismatic and talking up how great I was.

The boys who turned to me must've wanted to have a duel, to see if they could beat the current number one—but I wouldn't, no matter how casually they asked me.

"Wouldn't it be fun?" Noah asked, his light blue eyes alien.

"I want you to tell me what I can fix, the professor is too lenient," Arthur said, smirk showing.

They were a pretty strong pair and Clive had seen them leave in coats. Maybe taking our spots.

Kieran and Archie were more composed and calm, but just as curious. They had been one of the best teams during the hunt, I heard, tearing down their opponents in front of everyone. First team to end it after the exact time limit we had to camp out.

This year, though, hierarchy was stable.

Boys feared the hunt because we camped in the cold and the embarrassment of a shaven head, but the Final was that fear times ten. Gathered up together in the stadium during March, they would call out pairs and in front of your peers, you would fight to get the flag. Anything was allowed but intentionally hurting each other, worded loosely. Only eyes and hands were not allowed so anything else technically was.

I was foolish, and thought I'd be win as long as I was with Clive, but the day came when I got the letter.

The cursive of the Headmaster angered me and I pictured him smugly writing it as I read those words.

"Nathaniel Edgar Rottings, from here you will change partners and no longer be of service to me. You will change rooms and no longer work with Clive Vagrant; be grateful you have not lost an eye nor been expelled..."