The class is strangely silent. Where everyone would usually be competing to answer and one-up each other, they now look lost in thought or exhausted. In the wake of everything that’s happened, I wonder more than ever if there is a subtle message in Kartal’s story.

“November?” Kartal says.

My attention snaps back to class. “He didn’t take the knights for granted.”

“Explain.”

“Well, like you said, the knights were known to fight to the last man,” I say, trying to think my way through the strategy psychologically—the way Layla does when she talks about history. “So a typical approach would be to consider that an immovable truth and prepare to meet them in battle. The sultan was special because he gave the knights an opportunity to act differently, to change what everyone else assumed could never be changed.”

Kartal spins her globe. “Yes. Very much so. It’s not always the situation that’s immovable, as you said, but the way people think about the situation. A fresh perspective is often needed.”

The door opens then and everyone’s head turns as if on cue. Blackwood walks in, and there are two guards behind her. The anxiety in the room noticeably rises.

“Layla and November,” Blackwood says. “Come with me.”

Sweat immediately breaks out on my forehead, and Aarya gives us a look. We slide our chairs back and follow Blackwood into the hallway. As I pass the guards, I expect to get a needle in my arm and be dragged to the dungeon, but it doesn’t come. Instead they walk silently behind us.

I steal a questioning glance at Layla, but she’s staring forward, looking as frustrated as she has all morning. The extensive list of rules we’ve broken and the dead guard in front of our room scroll through my head as likely reasons for being escorted out of class. Blackwood clearly wanted everyone to see, like she’s making an example of us.

I take several long breaths the way the deception books recommend, to slow my heart and loosen my muscles. The last thing I need is for Layla to attempt to get us out of something and for me to give it away by fidgeting and looking panicked.

One of the guards opens the door to Blackwood’s office and we take our positions, Blackwood behind her desk and Layla and I in the armchairs in front.

“Well,” Blackwood says after a long beat of looking from me to Layla. “I’m surprised, Layla. And I’m not surprised often.”

I glance at Layla, but her face is neutral.

“I spoke with Dr. Conner a couple of days ago. Do you know what he told me?” she says.

Oh, this is not going to go well. I can already feel it.

“He told you that he saw us coming from the boys’ dormitory hallway,” Layla says without pause, like Blackwood asked her how her breakfast was. “He insinuated that he found our answer suspicious when he asked us about it.”

“Yes. He did,” Blackwood says. “As he should.”