As the term drags on, Anthony Chandler proves to be an even bigger thorn in my side. On the last day, I find him leaning against the wall outside Professor Reynaldi's office as I approach with Ben, Dave and Raoul. I stop suddenly at the sight of him, nearly causing the others to crash into me. The conversation we were having immediately dies. "Go away, Chandler."

"I don't have to," he retorts, crossing his arms defiantly. "It's a free country, Hockley; I'll stand wherever I damn well please."

I sigh, turning back to the group as Raoul resumes telling us about the diamond necklace he found as a Christmas present for his mother. "I'll bet you miss that, don't you, Hockley?" Chandler pipes up again. Dave and Raoul look at each other; Raoul shrugs. Chandler's lips curl into a self-satisfied sneer. "You mean you two don't know?" They gape at him blankly. "Well, I guess that's no surprise. I certainly wouldn't want anyone to know if my mother was a Scottish gutter-rat."

I have to take several deep breaths before I can speak, but I still feel the blind rage building inside me. I glance back at Dave and Raoul as they exchange a confused look. Poor fools… They obviously have no idea what he's talking about… I almost feel sorry for them. They don't know the story… how my mother was little more than a child when she met my father, how she defied her family and left her homeland to marry him, how she gave her life to save mine…

I have to force a nonchalant expression as I turn to face Chandler. "My mother was-"

Chandler rolls his eyes as he cuts me off. "She was a whore who outlived her purpose in the end, just like they all do."

My hands ball into fists. Ben rushes to my side as I start at Chandler, yanking me back with all his might. I struggle in his grasp; his arm is the only thing keeping me from tearing that little son of a bitch apart. He shoots me a warning look, but I stare past him into Chandler's remorseless eyes. "I'm warning you, Chandler…"

He chuckles as my voice trails off weakly. "It's not as if she didn't have it coming." His eyes narrow. "Honestly, I'm surprised it took your old man as long as it did to off her…"

I knock Ben's arm out of the way, lunging at Chandler before I can stop myself. I'm only vaguely aware of his hands on me, trying in vain to pull me back, but I throw him off. Chandler's head hits with a dull thump as I pin him to the wall. That insolent little bastard thinks he can talk that way about my family?! "It's about time you learned some manners!"

I punch him once, twice, three times, yet it's still not enough to wipe that smirk off his ugly rat-face. He doesn't flinch, doesn't try to run away; he just glares back at me, his eyes glittering with malice, and laughs. I poise to strike again when someone grabs my arm. "What the hell is going on out here?" a voice from behind me demands.

I let go of Chandler in surprise as I immediately recognize the voice… Professor Reynaldi. Ben and Raoul stammer incoherently, both trying to answer at the same time until Reynaldi holds up a hand. "One at a time, please."

Chandler is the first to regain his voice; he puts on a shocked expression and a panicked tone as he says, "Thank God you're here, Professor!" He glances back at me for a split second, and I can see a vicious fire grow in his eyes. I know exactly what he's going to do… he's going to try to make me out to be the bad guy. "I was standing here minding my own business, and Hockley just attacked me-"

"That's a goddamn lie, Chandler, and you know it!" Ben interrupts; Raoul and Dave nod in agreement. He turns to Reynaldi. "He was provoked, sir! Chandler started it…"

"I didn't do anything; he's trying to frame me!" Chandler protests, jutting out his bottom lip for affect. "Of course, Hockley's entourage is going to back him; it's four against one." He looks at Reynaldi with pleading eyes. "Don't you see what's going on here, Professor?"

A cacophony of voices rises as Ben and Chandler argue with each other; their voices grow angrier and louder, each trying to drown out the other until… "QUIET!"

All eyes turn to Professor Reynaldi in stunned silence; he's never shouted at anyone like that before. "My office, Hockley," he says firmly; his eyes are dead serious as they meet mine. "The rest of you, back to your dormitories!"

"B-but, Professor!" Chandler stammers, wiping blood from his nose. "I'm injured…"

"Oh, that's enough, Mr. Chandler. I think you'll live," Reynaldi chides him. "Mr. Walker!" Dave, who has been lagging slightly behind Ben and Raoul, stops in his tracks at the end of the hall; his head turns at the sound of Reynaldi's voice. "See to it that Mr. Chandler returns to his dormitory…" Dave takes hold of Chandler's collar, dragging him down the hall. "…and that he stays there!" Reynaldi adds before they disappear from sight.

The door bangs shut behind Reynaldi with an ominous finality. I hear his key scraping in the lock, and my heart sinks as I wonder what punishment he's about to hand down. What if he gets me kicked off the rowing team? Or worse, what if he turns me in to the dean and gets me expelled? My father would never let me hear the end of it…

The chair creaks quietly as Reynaldi sits across from me. I brace for the inevitable reprimand to come as I reluctantly lift my gaze to meet his; his eyes are stern, though not exactly angry. "What happened?" he demands.

My eyes shift as I debate whether or not to answer him. I have no idea how he'd react if I told him the truth about what happened, if I let him see me vulnerable; I don't think I want to find out…

"Cal?" Reynaldi's voice jerks me out of my thoughts. His eyes soften slightly. "I want to help you, but I can't if I don't know the truth."

I sigh; it looks like I don't have a choice. "Our families have hated each other since I can remember. Our fathers are business rivals and…" my voice trails off. Why am I telling him all this? It's not like he'll actually care… "He's had it out for me since he got here," I try again. "He called my mother a whore, said she deserved to die…" I have to bite my lip hard to stop it from trembling as memories of her threaten to overwhelm me… her kind eyes, her sweet smile, her violent death…

Understanding dawns in Reynaldi's eyes. "Ah, yes. 'A sharp tongue is the only edged tool that grows keener with constant use'."

"I don't know what happened; one minute I was talking to my friends about the holidays, the next you were pulling me off of Chandler. It's like a different person took hold…" I don't understand… Why am I pouring my heart out to him like this?

Reynaldi smiles. "Quite like our mutual friend Dr. Jekyll." I manage a shaky smile as I nod, though panic sets in at the back of my mind. "Now, there's the matter of your punishment…" Here it comes… "I won't report this little incident, though I must impress upon you the seriousness of your actions." So I'm not going to be expelled after all? I almost breathe a sigh of relief, but he adds, "I will, however, be writing to your father about this."

My heart drops. Given the choice between the two of them, I'd take the dean; he certainly seems the lesser of the two evils. Poor fool, he probably thinks he's doing me a favor. Little does he know he's just fed me to the lion's den…

Several of the servants are gathered in the foyer when I return home, yet my father is nowhere to be seen. Good… maybe Reynaldi didn't tell him about that fight after all. Our oldest maid Maggie, a fat grandmotherly woman, steps forward, her face flushed, her gray hair peeking out from under her cap. Her bright blue eyes light up as she smiles. "Welcome home, little Master," she greets me, throwing her arms around me. Little Master… the name she's called me by since I can remember.

We break apart as someone coughs loudly; as I wheel around, I see my father standing at the foot of the stairs. His cold gray eyes are suddenly burning with rage as he surveys me up and down, a look I know all too well… It's the same look he gives me every time he's angry at me. "My study… NOW!" he barks. I wrack my brains, but I can't think of anything I might've done to set him off this time… until I remember Reynaldi's words, "I will be writing to your father about this…"

I reluctantly follow him upstairs; he locks the door behind us, and my heart stops dead. He knows… I know he knows what happened even before he says in an accusing tone, "You beat up a Chandler?"He chuckles, waving a scrap of paper in front of my eyes. I immediately recognize the handwriting as Professor Reynaldi's. "So says a certain Professor Ryman…"

"Reynaldi," I correct him automatically. His eyes change as the note crumples in his hand.

"You know damn well who I'm talking about!" I jump slightly as his fist pounds the desk. He takes several deep breaths before finally assuming a nonchalant expression. "My God, Caledon! What were you thinking? I thought even you had enough sense not to attack-"

I can't help but laugh at this overly dramatic tirade. "I wouldn't say 'attack'. I knocked him around a little bit, that's all."

His eyes flash dangerously as he rounds on me. "Don't talk back to me, boy!" He grabs my right arm hard; I try to yank it back, but his grip is too strong. "Need I remind you that Aaron Chandler is our chief business rival?"

I roll my eyes. "No. How could I forget?" The thought crosses my mind to try to explain to him that Chandler called my mother a whore, insinuated that her death was well-deserved, but I don't have the heart. Besides, knowing my father, he'd probably agree with Chandler.

"Do you have any idea what your actions might've cost us?" my father demands, his hold on my arm tightening, twisting. "If word about this got out, it might be enough to drive our customers back to that conniving son of a bitch!" I have to clench my teeth against the pain as he twists my arm farther. I'm not dumb enough to let him see that he's hurting me… I know that would only make it worse.

"A scandal like this could run us into the ground…" he continues ranting. "Is..." twist. "That…" twist. "What…" twist. "You…" twist. "Want?!" CRACK! I shake my head numbly as I hear the dull snap of bones breaking. My father abruptly lets go of my arm, and his eyes almost soften as he stares back at me… almost, but not quite. "This is not to happen again, Caledon. Is that clear?" I nod, allowing the door to slam loudly behind me.

A sharp pain causes my eyes to snap open in the dead of night. Damn… I must've turned onto my broken arm, I realize groggily as I sit at the edge of the bed, staring blankly out the window into the night. I reach for the decanter on the nightstand, awkwardly trying to pour a glass of brandy with my left hand. One glass, then another, yet it does nothing to dull the unbearable pain in my arm.

I push up my sleeve as gently as I can, but the pain still makes me wince. I glance down; my arm is bent into a gruesome S-shape. That looks bad… obviously in need of medical attention. My heart sinks as I realize no doctor will be coming… my father won't send for him and he's certainly forbidden the servants from doing the same. I have no choice… I'll just have to bandage it myself.

With some effort, I finally manage to tear a long strip from my sleeve. I try to position it around my injured arm like a sling, but tying it one-handed proves to be impossible. The knot comes undone, and the cloth flops open… again.

A sharp knock at the door causes my head to jerk up suddenly. I sigh, half-expecting it to be my father, come to cause me even more damage. I reluctantly turn, but it isn't my father's cold dark gray eyes that meet mine. "Maggie?"

I could swear I see tears brimming in her soft blue eyes as she sits beside me on the bed, taking my uninjured left hand in her own rough, calloused ones. "I heard what happened…" She gasps as her eyes fall to my broken arm, to my torn sleeve, to the untied cloth sling. "Allow me, sir." I make no effort to protest as she ties the sling firmly behind my neck. I wait for her to reprimand me for fighting, for defying my father, but she doesn't… just looks at me, her eyes shining with sympathy.

Maggie forces a smile. "It's late; you need your sleep." I allow myself to sink back into the pillows as she pulls the blankets tightly around me, just as she did when I was a child. She brushes a stray lock of hair away from my face, kissing my forehead; I stare after her as she turns away. "Good night, little Master."