Chapter 1

The moment I stepped through the front door, my father, Charles LaValle, and my mother, Wendy LaValle, sprang to their feet, their faces bright with excitement.

"How did it go? Will you be named Laureate?"

I thought of the sheer terror on the face of the chief examiner, Lord Russell Keane, when he collected my paper, and I nodded. "It went well. His Majesty is definitely going to remember it."

My parents looked thoroughly satisfied.

Even Freddy LaValle, who'd been lounging with his feet propped on the low table, munching on snacks, shot up from his seat. "Does that mean I'm about to become the Laureate?"

Mother beamed at him. "Look at you, Freddy! A Laureate at twenty. There won't be another one like you in all of Harrington."

Father cleared his throat. "He's Dennis from now on. Don't slip up and call him by the wrong name."

He clapped Freddy on the shoulder. "From today, you're the heir of the LaValle family. No more fooling around like you used to."

I stared at the cozy little family of three in front of me, resentment lodged in my chest like a stone. I couldn't stop myself from asking, "Why?"

Mother flicked a careless glance at me. "You're the older brother. You're supposed to give way to your younger brother. He has no qualifications to his name.

"How is he supposed to make his way in the world? You're brilliant anyway. Taking the exams again in three years won't hurt you."

My voice rose before I could stop it. "But I studied for ten years! What gives you the right to..."

"The fact that you're the older brother!" Father slammed his hand on the table. "Your brother has been sickly since he was a baby. What's wrong with giving him a hand?

"You've had all the good things since you were little. You got an education, and your grandmother dotes on you. What does your brother have?"

I froze.

I'd been sent to live in Grandma Agnes's wing of the house when I was a year old.

I'd copied out books on winter nights until my hands were covered in chilblains, and I'd taken more raps of the tutor's ruler than I could count to earn the honors I had now.

And Freddy? All he had to do was curl up in our parents' arms and whine a little, and he could take everything from me without lifting a finger.

Father's tone softened. "If you don't agree, we'll stop paying for your grandmother's treatment. Think it over."

The blood in my veins turned to ice.

Grandma Agnes had been coughing for half a year, and the doctor had said she needed plenty of rest and care.

And now they were holding her life over my head.

I clenched my fists and said nothing.

Early the next morning, I went to pay my respects to Grandma Agnes.

She was propped up on her daybed, looking worn out.

When she saw me come in, she forced a smile. "You look thinner. You need to take better care of yourself."

I crouched by her knees and took her frail, bony hand. "Don't worry, Grandma. I know what I'm doing."

She patted the back of my hand. She was about to say something when a maid came in with tea and called out casually, "Master Freddy, I'll leave your tea right here."

Grandma Agnes's hand went rigid.

She fixed her eyes on the maid. "Who are you calling Master Freddy?"