Killing November

by Adriana Mather

  “And I’m not easily eliminated from a fight.”

  I cough from surprise at hearing the word that was written in blood on my floor this morning. What are you doing, Ash? He scans the room again, and I can’t tell if he’s trying to read people or if he’s sending a message to whoever did it. Probably both.

  Gupta smiles and his eyes crinkle. “Finally. Now, there is a well-delivered lie. Did anyone see or hear anything in there that would indicate which of Ashai’s statements was the deceit?”

  The room is silent.

  “Anyone?” Gupta says, and looks around the table of students. I look at them, too, trying to pick out a sign that might indicate the culprit. But I see only relaxed expressions and neutral postures.

  No one answers Gupta. They must hate to be wrong so much that they won’t even guess. “Well, then you stumped them, Ash. Nicely done. Moving—”

  “It was the second one,” I say, and everyone turns toward me.

  Ash gives me a curious look.

  Screw it. Better to jump in when there are no clear indications of a lie than when there are and I can’t see them. Plus, I have a fifty percent shot, since Ash would never have made the last statement or overemphasized the word eliminated if it weren’t true.

  Gupta looks at me with newfound interest. “Go on.”

  “Ash uses charm as a tool. And although he was smiling through all of the statements, the second one felt more like he was luring us in, telling us something so obvious that it had to be true.”

  The look Gupta’s giving me tells me he knows something I don’t. “Well, now, feeling is more of an emotional instinct than identifying a tell,” Gupta says, and turns to Ash. “But let’s just see here. Is she correct, Ashai?”

  Ash nods, and he looks at me with respect. I guess he really does like surprises.

  Gupta claps his hands together. “Deception is about practice, about making it part of your nature. If you have to use all your energy to focus on it, you’ll miss everything else. And as we’ve just seen, being able to identify deception goes beyond being able to read signs; it goes to an analysis of the person. A good deceiver will make you see a lie where there isn’t one and truth when it doesn’t exist, which is what we saw displayed here. November used an analysis of Ash’s personality to determine that the most truthful-sounding statement was the lie.” Gupta nods to himself like he’s remembering something. “That is all for today.”

  Everyone pushes their chairs back, but they don’t scrape them against the floor. They calmly put on their cloaks and exit quietly, with no commotion. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to a pack of teens being so graceful.

  I fall into step with Ash and we head down the stairs to the main foyer. “Want to take a walk through the garden on our way to lunch?” I ask. “I’ve been inside all morning and I’m starting to feel claustrophobic.”

  “Sure, November, I’d be happy to go on a date with you.”

  I laugh. I don’t know how Layla puts up with a brother like him. Although I’ve often wondered how Emily deals with a friend like me. “You think you’re so clever,” I say playfully, “but as it turns out, I don’t like you at all, not even a little bit.”

  He holds the door open for me and we step out onto the grass. “Apparently I’m not clever. The girl with the least deception training is the first one to spot my lie.”

  I smile. “Is that your way of telling me that you find me impressive?”

  “You could say that,” he says as we walk through the vine courtyard. “It’s just a shame that you don’t like me at all. I guess that’s something I’ll have to deal with.” His amusement is infectious, and the way he glances at me makes my heart pound a little harder.

  I clear my throat. “Does Gupta usually reminisce about old students that way?”

  “You caught that, huh? Yes. He does it all the time. And he’s not the only one. About twenty-five years ago there was a group of students who were considered particularly gifted. You’ll sometimes hear teachers refer to them as the best this school ever had. There’s a rumor that Blackwood was part of that group.” Ash takes quick inventory of the space as we enter the garden lounge.

  The afternoon light dapples the grass, and the bright purple berries pop against the canopy of green. The only other people here are two girls, chatting in one of the far corners.

  “Blackwood? I’m not sure if that’s good news or bad news,” I say.

  “She’s apparently the youngest headmaster this school has ever had. Some say she took the position because of the escalating tensions between the Bears and the Lions, preferring a life of solitude.” He keeps his voice low as we walk around the flower beds filled with blue, white, and purple blossoms. “You do know she’s a Bear, right?”

  My eyes widen. “But I thought Bears were mostly Italian? She speaks with a perfect British accent and her last name is British—I just never…Although now that I’ve said that out loud, I realize how ridiculous an assumption that is.”

  Ash smirks. “The Bear Family originated among the ancient Romans. But you know, throw in a few land campaigns, some exploration, and several hundred years, and you’ll find that the Bear Family has far greater reach than just Italy. And besides, every headmaster here for the past thousand years has been called Blackwood. It’s just a title.”

  I let this sink in for a minute. “Why exactly do the Bears and the Lions hate each other?” I ask.

  Ash starts walking toward the door at the other side of the building. “Come with me. I’ll show you something.”

  I pick up my pace.

  As we move through the arched doorway into the foyer with the knight statue and all the shields, my step falters. The guard with the X-shaped scar is on duty. He looks right at me, and I’m reminded of the first day Layla brought me through here, when I kept getting the feeling that he was assessing me. I haven’t seen him since he caught me out of my room on the night Stefano was murdered, and his gaze has changed. He seems to be watching me more directly, and it makes me want to run.

  I break eye contact with the guard and follow Ash down the hall and into the library.

  The stained-glass windows are mostly covered with heavy curtains, and in the absence of natural light there are torches and large candelabras that illuminate the high-ceilinged room.

  Ash leads me to the far right, to a wall of mounted scrolls, one of which is pinned open. As I study the scroll, I realize that it lists most of our classes and has a Family name next to each one. The first column reads:

  Deception: Bear

  Historical Analysis: Bear

  Knives: Lion

  Poisons: Bear

  Strategic Sparring: Bear

  Tree Climbing: Lion

  Fencing: Lion

  Psychological Warfare: Lion

  Languages & Accents: Jackal

  “What is this? Some kind of class ranking?” I ask in a whisper, even though I don’t see a single other person in the library.

  “You could say that,” he says. “Since Academy Absconditi was started, they’ve kept track of the best students in each discipline. It’s an enormous victory when one Family bests a record that’s been held by another Family for years. Sometimes generations.”

  “How can the school possibly keep track of students from the past thousand years and actually rank them?” I ask.

  “The core challenges haven’t changed. We do things exactly the way our Families have always done them,” he says. “And there are records set within each class. The one Professor Gupta mentioned today about someone eluding lie detection for an entire year was established by a Bear.”

  I look back to the wall. “It looks like a lot of titles were won by Bears.”

  Ash, too, is studying the scroll, but shifts his gaze to me. “For thousands of years there was a balance of power among the Famil
ies—each had its own specialties, skills, and styles. There were alliances and rivalries, but there was also a general respect for Strategia order and the Council of Families. However, in the last couple of hundred years, one Family has gradually risen above the rest—the Lions.”

  That makes sense with what Layla said about everyone catering to Brendan and the Lions. “Has that power shift changed things within Strategia?”

  Ash nods like he’s often considered this same question. “In the beginning it simply meant that the Lions had deep pockets, vast numbers, and large resources. But they often sought the advice of the Council of Families in using those tools. Other Families would call on them for assistance, and there were a great deal of mutually beneficial alliances. So the power imbalance was present, but the abuse of that power was not.”

  “And that’s changed?” I say, and for some reason, even though Ash hasn’t mentioned anything bad yet, this story makes me nervous, like watching someone slowly lose their grip while hanging from the side of a cliff.

  “Jag,” Ash says flatly, and I give him a questioning look. “He’s the current leader of the Lions.” He smiles and shakes his head. “I know you told me you weren’t raised the way I was, but I still find it incredible that you don’t know certain things. Certain people.”

  “How do you think I feel?” I say, and he looks at me like I make a fair point. “So Jag…what was different about him?”

  “Weeell,” Ash says, dragging the word out. “Forty years ago he lost both his parents unexpectedly. He was only nineteen when he ascended to a leadership role, which is unusual in the Strategia world. Typically, a new leader would have been chosen by the Family and ratified by the Council of Families. But Jag’s direct line had been ruling for more than a century, and for reasons that are still debated today, and probably partially due to the existing power imbalance, the Council of Families voted to let him take the seat, with the understanding that he would be aided by seasoned advisors.”

  “Like old European courts,” I say, having very little reference for these things beyond what I’ve seen in the movies.

  “Much like that,” Ash says. “For some time it was assumed that Jag would honor the guidance from the Council, that Family dynamics might shift back to their previous amiable state. But the opposite happened. Jag rejected the Council, and he and his immediate family changed the Lions’ culture even more dramatically. With each passing decade, the Lions infringed more aggressively on other Families’ territories until the abuse of power was so great that many Families started aligning themselves with the Lions for protection. The Bears were among the few that refused. They resisted the Lions every step of the way, and the two Families became the worst of enemies.”

  “Wait, so why didn’t the Council of Families or whoever replace Jag once they realized things had taken a turn?” I ask.

  “This is where it gets complicated,” Ash says, and I can almost hear the years of debate he’s witnessed over this exact question. “As you pointed out, Strategia rule is similar to that of old European royal courts—a given lineage stays in power until they can no longer sustain their rule. Sometimes it’s because they had no offspring and the line died out, or because they were killed at a young age, or simply because they weren’t trained here and failed to fulfill the duties required.”

  I pull back and study him. “Are you telling me that attending school here is required for leading your Family?”

  Ash looks thoughtful. “If you can’t excel at the Academy, you’re seen as unfit. Even after you’re admitted here, you’re not done proving yourself. It’s just the opposite. If your younger sister bests you in everything while here, the rule will likely go to her. We may have our differences, but the one thing all future leaders understand is the pressure of responsibility.”

  “That puts Brendan, Charles, and Nyx in a new light,” I say, half to him and half to myself. “But sorry I interrupted. You were saying…”

  “Even though Family leaders can be replaced, that does not happen in the middle of someone’s rule unless the current leader agrees to step down, which, as you can imagine, Jag did not,” Ash says.

  “Okay, but if things are as bad as you say, how come no one has taken the rule away from him by force?” I ask.

  Ash shakes his head. “Under no circumstances do Strategia assassinate the leaders of other Families. With our given skill sets, can you imagine the chaos that would ensue if an all-out war happened between Families?” There is so much weight in Ash’s voice that I can almost feel how personal this all is to him.

  Currently, all I know are these young Academy Strategia. I can’t even imagine what it might be like with entire Families of well-trained strategists and assassins trying to kill one another.

  I exhale. “So what about now? What’s being done about the Lions?”

  His expression almost looks sad. “There’s little we can do. Over the years, Jag has manipulated his advisors, his children, and his grandchildren, so this isn’t just about deposing him; it’s about figuring out how to break his hold over an entire Family. And the Lions are vicious; they rule with terror, killing off members of other Families that move against them. Those who are willing to stand up to them are dwindling.”

  “Is that why there have been so many deaths at this school?” I pause, trying to take it all in. “Are the Bears still fighting them?”

  He nods, and I feel a strange surge of pride. If I’m going to be a Strategia, at least let me be from a Family that stands for something good.

  Ash looks up at the scroll. “Even with the power imbalance, this list has always been populated by names from all the Families…except for when that gifted group I told you about swept nearly all the titles twenty-five years ago.”

  “Let me guess, they were all Lions?”

  He shakes his head. “It was one Lion and one Bear that bested the whole class. They were both the firstborn of the leaders of their Families, and against all odds, they had formed an alliance. At the time, it was thought they might actually change things between the two warring Families and for Strategia as a whole. But a year after they left the school, they were both found dead.”

  “Found dead or murdered?”

  “Same thing,” he says.

  “Um, not really.” I pause. “But if there was one Lion open to changing things, there have to be others. Right?”

  Ash lightly laughs. “Do you ever stop being so positive?”

  “You know, I’ve never understood why people accuse me of being too positive. I think they’re just missing possibilities,” I say.

  Ash’s eyes smile. “We should be heading to the dining hall.” He turns.

  “Ash?” I say, and he stops. “Thanks for explaining.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” he says. “If we figure out your Family secrets, dodge the attacks that will definitely be coming, and manage to stay alive…then you can thank me.”

  AS I WAIT for the fencing teacher to start our lesson, I roll up my sleeves and look around the open courtyard nervously. The last time I had a class without Layla or Ash, Matteo almost dropped me out of a tree. I can’t help but wonder what’s in store for me next.

  Nyx is here and her eyes are puffy, like she cried all night. She hasn’t looked in my direction yet, but I can tell she’s tracking my movements—which I think is worse. In my short time here, I’ve noticed that when people won’t look at you directly, they are paying even more attention. Felix and Ines are also subtly watching me.

  “Today, we will have the honor of welcoming Dr. Conner as our guest,” Professor Odd says, taking his place in front of the class. I would think it was a funny name except I happened to recall that odd is also Norwegian for “the point of a sword.” True to his name, Odd is a tall, thin man with a long face who overenunciates everything he says in a theatrical way. “So let’s be quick about getting our fencing gea
r. I would like you all to give Dr. Conner your very best performances.”

  Professor Odd claps his hands together and we form two lines behind him. This time, I make sure to take one of the last spots and not let anyone be where I can’t see them. Unfortunately, Nyx is in the line next to me. She practically radiates anger, and I force myself not to look at her. Judging by how she reacted yesterday to Charles’s death, if I even step wrong she might break my nose.

  We follow Professor Odd through the garden courtyard and into the foyer with the shields, where we find Dr. Conner. Every minute standing next to Nyx makes me more tense.

  “Ah, Dr. Conner. We’ll just be a moment getting our gear,” Odd says, and makes a small bow.

  Conner smiles. “No rush, Professor Odd. In fact, I’ll join you. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in the weapons room.”

  “As you like,” Odd says, and we make our way down the hall. A guard unlocks a door and we file into a high-ceilinged, windowless room chock-full of armor, swords, and shields. Locked glass cases display every type of knife imaginable, plus arrows and an assortment of compound and recurve bows. It feels like I stepped back in time to a medieval battle room. What is noticeably missing, however, are those weird Kevlar protective fencing uniforms you always see people with on TV—not that I really expected any safety gear.

  Mounted on the wall are dozens of swords, and I watch as each person in line approaches the wall and selects one, which they then present to either Odd or Conner for inspection. My unease takes the joy out of choosing a sword, and I wind up just grabbing the one nearest me and following suit. I breathe a little easier when I notice that the double-edged blades appear dulled for practice. I wait behind Felix for Conner to inspect mine.

  I run my finger down the blade as I walk out of the room. I would have died for a sword this nice in Pembrook, but Dad wouldn’t let me have anything but those wooden practice ones. Emily used to joke that I saw The Princess Bride and decided to make it a lifestyle choice by learning all bladed weapons and constantly trying to re-create some dramatic adventure.