A note before we begin Chapter Six:

Merry Christmas & A Happy New Year. Please Review this chapter.

Indeed, this is my very first Fanfic story and I'll be pleased to hear constructive criticism.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

SECRETS

Tancred shuffled uneasily into the King's Room.

Dinner had not been a pleasant affair. Lysander had been deliberately avoiding him; Cook had been taken ill with the flu, and Sabella's futile attempt at Cook's Monday specialty—onion-and-leek soup—hadn't been slightly off: it had been way off.

"Torsson—Branko—hurry up!" Manfred Bloor barked, beckoning impatiently with a bony, menacing hand. "Class has already started, and I doubt you'd like another detention."

Tancred and Idith Branko, who had refused to erase the scowl from her face since her sister's death, slid into their seats. The atmosphere was one of discomfort and apprehension. Tancred, impulsively, shot a wary glance toward the headmaster's son.

"Good job, Torsson," Manfred leered. "You've uncovered the tension at last. Now, before I begin my announcement, I would like Bone to tell me the topic of our discussion."

Charlie gave a startled jerk. "What?"

"Tell me, Bone," Manfred drawled, "how frequently does your brain shrink?"

Charlie slumped in his seat, reddening. He remained silent, and Manfred's sneer grew.

"I asked a question, Charlie Bone!" His voice had dropped, and was silky in a low, dangerous way. Tancred hoped beyond hope Charlie had been paying subconscious attention, though it seemed unlikely. "What were we discussing?"

"I—I don't know, sir."

"And why was that?" Manfred asked, smoothly, turning away from the students to glower at the portrait of the Red King on the wall.

"Because I—I was staring at the portrait of the Red King."

Tancred sighed. He knew Charlie could never resist attempting to travel through the Red King's impassive expression and into his thoughts.

"Staring at the portrait of the Red King," Manfred mimicked, his eyes cold and hard. "That's it, Bone! You've secured yourself a seat of detention for this weekend. You'll be staying with Mr Weedon in the Music Tower. The janitor has kindly volunteered to keep a watchful eye on you, Bone. Remember to thank Mr Weedon, the next time you cross paths."

"Yes, sir. But why won't I be staying with you, in the King's Room?"

Tancred wished Charlie wouldn't ask so many questions. Be that as it may, Manfred seemed, as a first, happy to be able to provide the answers.

"Firstly, you'll be staying with Mr Weedon because I—and the rest of the endowed children—will be preoccupied that weekend. And secondly, you have been denied the permission to remain isolated in the King's Room with the knowledge that you will attempt, once again, to enter the Red King's portrait. You're his descendant, Charlie Bone—why not show some respect for your great ancestor?"

Charlie gulped. Tancred knew his friend's conscience was largely vulnerable.

"Get back to work!" Manfred snapped.

The remainder of Tancred's day did not improve.

"It's been horrible, Sander," Tancred pleaded, as he followed the tall African around the dining hall with his tray. "And I'm really sorry about yesterday, for the thirtee—"

"Don't say thirteenth," Lysander mumbled grudgingly. "It's an unlucky number, and I won't hear it. Apology accepted."

Tancred couldn't suppress a grin. But his cheerfulness at regaining an old friend vanished as Emma Tolly entered, deep in thought.

"There's Emma," Tancred murmured, his eyes fixed on the pretty blond as she expertly wove her way through the crowd. "I wonder what's gotten her so ruffled lately."

"She isn't ruffled," Lysander protested firmly. "You hurt her feelings, that's all. Especially with all that B.S. about Reid Rubix. You sounded like a jealous soap opera villain."

"Oh." Tancred couldn't find anything else to say. He stared at his plate of minced meat, biting his lip regretfully.

"It's alright," Lysander assured him. "Emma will be ready and willing to forgive you. She's always been a very nice girl."

Tancred merely nodded mutely.

"Talking about me?" Emma's coy, teasing voice brought Tancred back to his senses. He felt a yearning desire to snap a reply, but Sander's fork, which he had purposefully clanged loudly on the edge of his bowl, erased the wish from his head.

"Hi, Emma," Lysander grinned. "What's going on?"

"Not much." Emma grimaced. "I'm sorry to hear Charlie's gotten detention this weekend. He'll miss out on the fun!"

"What fun?" Tancred's head jerked up, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"A little water-ride," Emma smiled slyly. She sauntered away from the boys' table to join Olivia Vertigo.

"With all due dignity," Lysander grunted, "Discreetness was uncalled for!"

"I hate secrets," Tancred muttered in agreement.

Glancing over at Emma and Olivia, Tancred noticed the two girls giggling madly and gesturing about wildly with their hands. Emma's fingers fluttered like butterflies as she motioned a large wave.

"Hello, Sander and Tanc." Gabriel had arrived to accompany the third-formers to their dormitories. "Is anything—the matter?"

Of course he would think there was something going on, Tancred smirked. Lysander's face is priceless.

For Lysander's expression was one of pure concentration.

"He's thinking," Tancred improvised wildly. "It—It's a habit."

"It's not a habit," Sander spat suddenly, still focused. "I'm trying to interpret Emma's riddles."

At the sound of Emma's name, Tancred looked up. "What did you say?"

"Emma's riddles," Lysander repeated absently. Tancred and Gabriel exchanged confused glances. Leaving Gabriel baffled, Lysander continued, "Her movements; her words."

"Emma didn't give us a riddle." Tancred stared hard into his African friend's eyes. "Have you lost your mind?"

"No," Lysander said slowly. "No, I haven't lost my mind. The riddle, Tanc! Em spoke in riddles."

Tancred racked his brain to remember Emma's exact words as Gabriel shuffled away toward the exit, clearly perplexed. Tancred, no longer puzzled, shouted his memory of Emma's "riddle" with relish and triumph.

"She said Charlie would miss out on the water-ride!"

"Exactly," Lysander mumbled, now glowering at a woodchip that had separated itself from the oaken table. "Exactly."

"Olivia will tell us," Tancred said confidently.

At that moment, however, Lysander snapped from his reverie. "No, Tanc. Matron's on the prowl. Look—it's nine o'clock. We're late!"

Grabbing Tancred's limp wrist, he dragged the electric-blond boy up the flight of stairs to the boys' corridors. They hurriedly washed up, and stealthily crawled under their covers just in time.

"Lights out!" The hiss startled Clifton Carp, a third-year Drama student. He yelped and buried himself beneath his bedsheets.

The voice belonged to Matron—in other words, Lucretia Yewbeam. It was sharp, scaly and downright skin-crawling. A ghostly-white hand, bony with a clearly unhealthy pallor, snaked itself through the crack in the doorway and flicked off the light. It disappeared in the darkness, and all that could be heard was the slam of the door as it shut behind Matron.

"Don't worry, Tanc," Lysander muttered. "We'll uncover the secret tomorrow."

"Shut up!" Clifton Carp hollered, tossing a flowery pillowcase toward Lysander and Tancred.

"Shutting."

Charlie caught up with the third-formers at breakfast the following morning.

"Tanc! Sander!"

"Morning," Tancred smiled in reply. Lysander merely waved merrily, grinning as he gobbled down his soggy oatmeal.

"Why're you both so cheery?" Charlie enquired glumly. "I'll be missing out on the fun!"

"What fun?" Lysander asked instantaneously, his head popping up. "What fun are you talking about, Charlie Bone?"

"I don't know." Charlie shrugged. "Billy and Olivia simply said, you'll miss out on the fun! And all because I've landed this stupid detention with Manfred."

"So Billy knows, too?" Tancred and Lysander exchanged ponderous glances.

"What does he know?" Charlie asked, immediately intrigued. He wondered why everyone was keeping him in the dark. Were they his friends, or not? Olivia had refused to spill the secret, and Billy had mimed zipping his lips together and throwing away the key. Bewildered and impatient, Charlie had hurried to the dining hall with bile brewing in his veins.

If he had spent another second with Liv or Billy, Charlie was sure the situation would have gotten out of control. Though he was not nearly as temperamental as Tancred Torsson or Manfred Bloor, he found he had a hard time forcing down anger.

"We don't know, either," Lysander explained helplessly. "Sorry, Charlie, we really don't. Emma told us the exact same thing yesterday. And she also mentioned something about a water-ride."

"A water-ride?"

Charlie believed them. He knew Lysander and Tancred would never lie to hide the truth from Charlie. If anyone could fix problems, it was he himself and his Uncle Paton. Nearly eighty percent of the time it was Charlie who found the problem, and Paton who repaired it.

"We're sorry, Charlie!" Tancred bellowed, as Charlie strolled away. He nodded, without turning back, as he made a beeline for Emma Tolly.

"Em!" Charlie halted the pretty blonde with a hand on her shoulder. She spun around, caught by surprise.

"Morning, Charlie." Emma smiled as she hastily greeted Olivia Vertigo entering the dining hall, deep in conversation with Fidelio Gunn. "Excuse me, I think Liv is expecting me."

"Wait—this will only take a second, Em," Charlie gasped. "What's the big secret?"

"What secret?" Emma giggled, flushing pink.

"The water-ride. The fun. Tanc and Sander are confused out of their minds!"

"Oh, that." Emma grinned, running her fingers coyly through her sleek hair as she walked away. "You'll see. You'll all see."

Charlie snorted contemptuously as he returned to Tanc and Lysander. "She wouldn't tell us. But she said, you'll see. So I guess it can't be long until the word's out, eh?"

"I don't want to hear it from someone else!" Lysander was enraged.

Tancred nodded silently in angry agreement. "Yeah!"

"It won't be long," Charlie pleaded imploringly. "Contain it, won't you? You know, I'll bet Manfred will spill the beans in the King's Room."

Charlie was right.

"Take your seats!" Manfred Bloor barked as the students filed into the hollow, drafty chamber. Charlie squeezed into the seat by Tancred, eager to hear Manfred's announcement.

"We all know this weekend is important," Manfred began. "The Drama students are all leaving."

"Leaving?" Tancred scrambled to his feet. "Leaving?"

There was absolutely no way he was allowing Reid Rubix and Emma Tolly to skip away from Bloor's without a watchful eye trained on them. If the circumstances were as such, Tancred would break the rules heedlessly and pursue the pair.

He was lucky. Incredibly lucky.

"However, the Endowed will also be tagging along," Manfred grinned. Charlie didn't like the look of the grin. It was malicious, unpleasant—and contained everything that made the Headmaster's son the disliked staff member he usually was.

"Which also means I will be accompanying you." Manfred continued. "Bone, you will remain at Bloor's as intended, whilst the rest of you—and the Drama department—will be sailing off into the horizon for an entire weekend. Forty-eight hours, children, of barfing off the side of the ship, cruising through the seas, and gaining a multitude of unbecoming tan lines. There's nothing like a nice voyage on the Red Sea."

"Hear, hear," Joshua Tilpin crowed, bestowing a crooked smile on Manfred. The Headmaster's son smirked.

"The Red Sea?" Dorcas gasped. "My father's sailed on the Red Sea. He told me the name was derived from the blood in the ocean. It may be tiny, Dorcas, he said, but don't underestimate its influence. I was nearly driven to kill my crew."

Manfred's smirk widened.

Jacky - The voyage idea came from a dream.

You - Cool.

Jacky - I'll be using all the details of the dream in the next chapter.

So get ready to head down my cliffie.

REVIEW, PLEASE. THE FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED.

Thanks to everyone who did review, once again. And Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!