Authors: Violet Haberdasher
The Secret Prince
The Secret Prince
ALSO BY VIOLET HABERDASHER
KNIGHTLEY ACADEMY
DON’T MISS A SECOND OF HENRY GRIM’S ADVENTURES
!
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
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First Aladdin hardcover edition June 2011
Copyright © 2011 by Robyn Schneider
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Designed by Lisa Vega
The text of this book was set in Bembo.
Manufactured in the United States of America 0511 FFG
2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Haberdasher, Violet.
The secret prince / Violet Haberdasher. — 1st Aladdin hardcover ed.
p. cm.
Sequel to: Knightley Academy.
Summary: Fourteen-year-old orphan Henry Grim’s schooling at the prestigious Knightley Academy continues, as he and some friends discover an old classroom filled with forgotten weapons, which lead them into a dangerous adventure.
ISBN 978-1-4169-9145-8 (hardcover: alk. paper)
[1. Orphans—Fiction. 2. Knights and knighthood—Fiction. 3. Secret societies—Fiction.
4. Boarding schools—Fiction. 5. Schools—Fiction.]
I. Title.
PZ7.H11424Se 2011
[Fic]—dc22
2010038855
ISBN 978-1-4424-3605-3 (eBook)
To the Philomathean Society—
For barefoot fencing matches in the library and nights spent pondering life on Gothic rooftops. For jokes in Latin, and human chess, and scholars’ gowns worn in earnest over impeccably cut suits and fashionable dresses.
Sic itur ad astra.
Of this I am certain: In Philo, the spirit of Knightley Academy lives on.
Chapter 2: Lord Havelock’s Warning
Chapter 3: Knight at the Station
Chapter 4: Headmaster Winter’s Speech
Chapter 6: The Lord Minister’s Sons
Chapter 8: Flag Twirling Knights
Chapter 10: The Forgotten Classroom
Chapter 11: The Truth About Valmont
Chapter 12: The Secret Battle Society
Chapter 13: Sneaking and Secrets
Chapter 14: The Unforgivable Words
Chapter 16: A Question Unasked
Chapter 17: The Masquer ade Begins
Chapter 18: The Nordlands Express
Chapter 19: The Common Comrade
Chapter 20: The Empty Compartment
Chapter 21: The Unclaimed Luggage
Chapter 22: Life In The Nordlands
Chapter 23: An Awkward Confession
Chapter 25: An Unlikely Alliance
Chapter 26: The Aristocrats’ Rebellion
Chapter 27: Sir Frederick’s Revenge
Chapter 29: The Prince and the Pauper
There is a dreadful yet necessary page in every novel where the author must break character long enough to thank the people responsible for the book’s existence. And so, in lieu of a simple “thank you for being awesome,” I have decided to bestow honorary knighthood upon the following:
My crack team of agents, editors, and publicists: Mark McVeigh, Ellen Krieger, Paul Crichton, Bernadette Cruz, and Jason Dravis.
Those friends who insisted on staging a late-night reading of
Knightley Academy
and recording it for posterity: Emily Kern, Abbey Stockstill, Alec Webley, Thadeus Dowad, Jith Eswarappa, Saad Zaheer, and Paul Mitchell.
And these people of the Internet: Paige Harwood, Karen Kavett, Kayley Hyde, Liane Graham, Erica Sands, Kaleb Nation, Jennifer Levine, Alex Bennett, The SchneiderKnights (Kaeli, Sean, Matt, Sasha, Grace, Hayley, Claire, and Ninja), Adam and Rohan (for the, um, tassels), Julia DeVillers, and the Group That Must Not Be Named.
1
DOWN THE ALLEYWAYI
n a rough-and-tumble, not-altogether-respectable
neigh borhood south of Hammersmith Cross Station, wedged between darkened taverns and foggy dock-lands, sits a rambling bookshop with cheery red shutters.
For most of the year a tiny old lady minds the shop, frowning in concentration as she knits stocking caps for no one. But should you pass this shop and find the dusty windows scrubbed clean, or the door decorated with a sign advertising deliveries, you would find someone else behind the counter of Alabaster & Sons, Purveyors of Rare Books Since 1782—to all appearances, just an ordinary teenage boy, bent intently over a detective story. But appearances can be deceiving.
* * *
In the pale gloom of the unusually cold January afternoon when our story starts, the roads are desolate, but their emptiness is not due entirely to the dreadful weather.
As you have probably heard or read or suspected without quite knowing why, sinister things indeed were happening up north, and in those dark days, fearful rumors were more common than holiday cheer.
But where there is suspicion there is also doubt, and some people still pretended that nothing was the matter. After all, appearances have to be maintained, especially by those looked to as an example. “Let the superstitious servants worry!” the aristocracy scoffed from the comfort of their elegant town houses.
After all, it wasn’t as though there were proof to any rumor.
“Wot’s in the boxes, then?” The tall dangerous-looking boy sneered, taking a step forward.
“Jus’ deliveries.” The boy called Alex whimpered, feeling the cold, slimy wall of the alleyway against his back, blocking his escape. “Please. I ain’t got money, an’ I need this job.”
The dangerous-looking boy’s eyes narrowed, and his
two hulking friends laughed, their fists already raised. “Will yeh be needin’ both yer arms fer that job o’ yours?”
Alex paled.
“Or,” the sneering boy continued, hoping that no one could hear his stomach rolling with hunger as he withdrew a knife from his tattered jacket, “both yer ears?”
Henry Grim shook his head in mock disgust as his best friend demolished a strawberry tart in two enormous mouthfuls.
“Oh, very polite,” Henry said. “Be glad that Rohan isn’t here. He’d perish from the shame.”
Adam swallowed thickly and wiped his mouth with his coat sleeve. “What? They’re good.”
“Well, of course they’re good,” Henry said in exasperation. “Sucray’s is the best bakery this side of the river. Come on. I wasn’t really supposed to leave the shop unattended …”
“Right, because someone might be having an emergency that only a rare encyclopedia can cure.”
“It’s the Code of Chivalry, Adam.” Henry sighed. “I gave my word to Mrs. Alabaster that I’d mind the shop.”
“It’s
boring
in there,” Adam complained. “I can’t wait for term to start.”
“Next week,” Henry said, reaching into his jacket pocket for his keys. “And at least save me
one
of the tarts.”
Adam opened his mouth, frowned, and stood absolutely still.
Henry shot his friend a confused look, and then realized that Adam was on to something. The road on which they were walking was too empty, and altogether too quiet.