But Titus came out of his punishment smiling. Birmingham not only didn’t require the removal of trousers, he didn’t even hit Titus—the lashes were given to a rug instead. In addition, Birmingham congratulated him warmly on making Trumper and Hogg into laughingstocks before the whole school.
Still Iolanthe practiced her memory and confusion charms. But her time with Birmingham turned out to be very pleasant. They had a cup of tea together and a lively chat on Homerian epics—something near and dear to Birmingham’s heart.
The rest of the term passed just as agreeably. The house cricket team did not win the school cup, but it contended for the first time in years. Wintervale made the roster for the school match against Harrow, which thrilled the entire house. Iolanthe, to the prince’s head-shaking amazement, won ten quid for writing the best Latin essay in the entire school. She promptly spent the money on ices and fancy cakes for everyone—and a very nice monogrammed shaving set for Kashkari, toward which the prince chipped in half of the cost.
The last Sunday before the end of Summer Half, Kashkari finally organized the tennis tournament he had been talking about for a while, in honor of Birmingham and a few other senior boys who were leaving to attend university.
There was one trophy for the junior boys and another for the senior boys. A group of Iolanthe’s friends watched the junior boys from her room. When it was time for the senior boys to compete, they left en masse, eager to defeat one another.
The prince was the last person remaining.
She tilted her head at the door. “Shall we?”
He closed the door and took out a plate from her cabinet. “Flamma nigra,” he said. A black flame crackled into being.
“What’s this?”
“Give me your hand.”
He plunged their combined hands into the black flame. The flame was the temperature of a sun-heated stone, licking at her skin with the playfulness of a puppy. After a few seconds it turned purple, then deep blue, then sky blue, then the pale blue of a vein seen through the skin. At last it turned transparent and dissipated.
She stared at her hand, then at him. “That was—that was the blood oath?”
He lowered his head, almost as if he were feeling shy. “Yes. You are free.”
“Do you understand what you have done?” she asked, her voice unsteady.
“How can I not? I have been thinking of nothing else for weeks. The enormity of it is still beyond my understanding.”
“Then why? Is it because we had made one attempt on the Bane’s life?”
That had been the terms of their agreement, one and only one attempt. But surely that didn’t count, since the Bane did not remain dead.
“That was part of it.”
“What’s the rest of it?”
He hesitated briefly. “The choice was made for me. I was never asked whether I was willing to walk this path. I do not want to take that choice from you—friends do not enslave friends. You should decide for yourself.”
Her eyes prickled with the beginning of tears. “What if I decide to take off on my own?”
He looked down for a moment. When he looked back again at her, this boy who had told her that he lived for her and her alone, his gaze was not without fear, but also not without hope. “That is your right.”
Below, boys were calling their names. Like a sleepwalker, she drifted to her open window. “We’ll be down this minute.”
Outside, everything looked the same, summer sky, summer grass, summer boys. Yet everything was different. Her life was her own once again, to do as she willed.
She turned around to the boy who had just become her truest friend in the world. “Do I need to decide now?”
“No,” he said. “Take your time.”
“Come on, Fairfax. You too, prince,” shouted Wintervale. “We are waiting for you to draw lots.”
“Coming!” she shouted back. Then, more softly, “We’d better go play some tennis.”
At the door, he laid a hand on her shoulder. “No matter what you decide, knowing you has been the greatest privilege of my life.”
She closed her own hand over his and blinked back tears. “Likewise, prince.”
“And just so you know, I am going to annihilate you at tennis.”
She laughed even as she wiped at her eyes. “You can try, Your Highness. You can always try.”
EPILOGUE
TITUS WAITED.
Cape Wrath was beautiful this time of the year. The sun shone bright enough to turn the sea from its usual moody gray into a deep, dark blue. A few sheep, their biscuit-colored wool still short after the spring shearing, grazed on the green headland. The lighthouse glistened, white and serene.
But he was no longer capable of appreciating the loveliness of his surroundings.
She was late.
She had left school two days before he did. She knew the exact hour she must meet him here, at the only remaining entrance to his laboratory. It was now past that time.
If he did not leave now, he would miss his train.
He continued to wait, a black pain strangling his heart. He could no longer imagine life without her.
They had perhaps thirty seconds left.
Twenty.
Fifteen.
Ten.