Zachary
us into his office on our final day at Spearcrest, his face is set in a grim expression I’ve never seen before. Theodora and I exchange a frown but say nothing as he motions us to sit in the chairs across his desk.
“Right,” he says, pinching the top of his nose as if trying to squeeze away a headache. “Where to begin? Well, let’s begin with the simplest thing—as you can see, Zachary and Theodora, you are the remaining two Apostles in the programme. So congratulations on that.”
“What happened to Sai, sir?” I ask with a frown.
“Sai was offered an internship with Novus and will be studying in America. He came to see me last week with the news and decided to withdraw for the sake of fairness since he wouldn’t be able to accept the Oxford scholarship.” He raises his hand to acknowledge the expressions on our faces. “Noble of him—I know. There’s a reason why Sai has always been a particular favourite of mine.”
“Favourites, sir?” I murmur disapprovingly—and, yes, somewhat bitterly.
“Of course. Any teacher who claims not to have favourites would be lying—even if that lie was to soothe a student’s ego. Now. The programme. I have, of course, received both of your final assignments, which you both submitted, as usual, in a timely manner. Since then, I have been trying to solve the dilemma—no, the conundrum—of who should be chosen as my Apostle this year.”
I throw Theodora a sidelong glance. She’s biting into her bottom lip, worrying it.
She seems a little anxious—but I know why Mr Ambrose is being so strange, and I know it’s no fault of hers.
“Common sense would dictate that you, Theodora, should receive the prize. You have been the front-runner through the entirety of the programme. Your work has always been incredibly conscientious, thorough, well-researched and marvellously written. You have proven yourself to be an incredibly academically gifted young woman, but also committed, determined, and admirably resilient.”
He pauses, fixing Theodora with a stony look.
I frown. Everything he’s saying is lovely enough, but why does it sound as if it’s about to precede a significant but?
“Unfortunately—” I freeze in my seat at his words. “I was disappointed to find that your final assessment, while a fascinating read, did not meet the criteria of the assessment nor, in fact, attempt to answer the question set. You didn’t even submit an essay. Am I correct to assume this was purposely done and not a grave administrative error?”
He cocks an eyebrow at Theodora, who nods sheepishly. “Yes, sir.”
He sighs. “Just as I thought.”
“What did you submit?” I ask, staring at Theodora.
“Miss Dorokhova submitted the opening chapter of a highly engaging, if rather… rambunctious story—a rousing and bawdy adventure on the high seas.”
Theodora’s face is now bright pink.
My mouth falls open.
“Not a… not a pirate romance?” I ask, torn between horror and amusement.
“Ah, I see you are a fan of The Buccaneer Captain’s Stolen Fiancée,” Mr Ambrose says in a completely serious tone.
“He ought to be,” Theodora says lightly. “It’s his book.”
Now Mr Ambrose gives a thunderous frown. “You surely don’t mean Zachary authored it?”
“No, sir,” Theodora answers. “I wrote it, he owns the intellectual property.”
I bury my face in my hands with a groan.
“This sounds like a complicated personal—and perhaps legal—matter,” Mr Ambrose says. “The fact remains that, whilst an excellent read—if rather bolder than the books I am accustomed to—your work, Theodora, cannot be said to be discussing the statement you were given. Now.” He looks from Theodora to me, and I drop my hands to my lap, watching him. “I can only assume, Theodora, that you submitted this particular oeuvre in the hope, perhaps, to sabotage yourself and allow Zachary, here, to be crowned victor of the Apostles programme. Am I correct in my assumption?”
She doesn’t say anything, but Mr Ambrose reads her answer in her wide-eyed silence.
“Ah—just as I thought. A bold gambit, assuredly. I can only imagine you must have had compelling reasons to do so—to gift Zachary a victory he has, no doubt, desperately wished for, and you were, after all, terribly close to snatching that victory away from him.” He points his hand at me in a courteous gesture. “I’m sure you could not have predicted, however, that Zachary would best you in a different arena.”
Theodora and I exchange another look—this time a frown.
“Zachary might not have bested you academically, Theodora—but in the field of self-sabotage, he emerged the uncontested victor. For his final assessment, he submitted a single blank piece of paper.”
Mr Ambrose sits back, steepling his fingers and resting a heavy look on us.
“Why would you—” Theodora starts, her cheeks now bright red, her eyes an angry flash of blue.
“Don’t you even start—” I counter, starting upright in my chair and answering her glare for glare.
“Thank you,” Mr Ambrose booms, cutting us both short. “It is the final day of the school year, and I am a busy man with more important things to do than to listen to the excuses and arguments of two lovesick young fools. Keep your reprimands and remonstrations to yourselves, you two. I’ve thought this through long and hard, and I have made my decision, with which neither of you will be given an opportunity to argue.”
We watch him, rigid and nervous in our seats.
“This year, there will simply be no victor. Neither of your portraits will sit in the great hall as Spearcrest Apostle. You two, although my most promising candidates yet, have managed to break my programme. Perhaps it is the boon and burden of teaching such bright young minds. Or perhaps it is the risk I took when I chose you two and hoped that sublime love between you would help you reach greater heights instead of sending you both crashing into an abyss of despair and self-sacrifice.”
My face is so aflame I hardly dare look Mr Ambrose in the eyes, and when I sneak Theodora a glance, her lips are pinched shut and her cheeks are crimson.
“Now—although there is to be no formal victor this year, this programme and its partnership with Oxford is a long-standing tradition which I respect too much to dismiss or ignore. The Oxford scholarship, therefore, I have chosen to award to you, Theodora.”
She opens her mouth, but he raises an imperious hand.
“I’m not finished. You will receive this scholarship because you were the front-runner of the programme for most of its duration, because you have worked exceptionally hard in the light of extremely trying circumstances, and because I personally believe you deserve this scholarship. My decision is final and has already been communicated to the university and to my excellent friend Lady Ashton. That is all—that is my decision.”
He waves a hand. “You may now respond—and it need not be any more complicated than a heartfelt thank-you.”
Theodora lets out a weak puff of laughter. “Thank you, Mr Ambrose.”
He nods graciously. She glances at me and then adds, “And thank you, Mr Ambrose, for asking Zachary to look after me back when I first started.”
Mr Ambrose smiles. “I believed he was the right person for the task.”
“He was.”
“Well—you are most welcome.” Mr Ambrose stands briskly to his feet. “You are both welcome. And before you go, I should also like to thank you both. For being exemplary students and admirable captains of our debate team. Theodora, for being a resolute and dedicated head girl, Zachary, for representing our chess team so impressively. Thank you both for everything you have given Spearcrest. It has been an honour and a pleasure, truly, to be your headmaster. I doubt I shall soon teach students like you two again.”
At the door, he shakes my hand, and my throat is suddenly dry and hard.
“Thank you, Mr Ambrose. For everything. You’ve been the best role model I could have asked for or wanted.”
Mr Ambrose nods. “Write me from Oxford, you two, will you?” He smiles. “I shall await your letters most impatiently.” His smile widens. “And as for the inevitable wedding invitation, please address it to Mr Bellamy Ambrose.”
“Sir!” I exclaim, throwing Theodora a look.
But she smiles and takes Mr Ambrose’s hand to shake it. “We wouldn’t dream of not having you in attendance, sir.”
He grins. “I should hope not.” Releasing Theodora’s hand, he waves at the door. “Now off with the two of you! I believe there is a terribly secret lake-side end-of-year party you two should be headed to.”
to the party, Theodora and I grind out a surly agreement to save our argument for later. We part ways outside the Old Manor, both headed for our own buildings, but I turn around at the last minute to catch Theodora’s arm.
She whirls around, and I catch her in my arms, pressing a hot, needy kiss to her mouth.
“Be nice at the party,” I mutter against her lips.
“I will if you are,” she retorts.
“I’ll be as gentle as a lamb.”
“Probably a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
“If I were a wolf, Theo, I would have devoured you a long time ago.”
She laughs. “Deviant.”
“Temptress.”
