CHAPTER 3 A FIERCE DEBATE

In the bustling halls of Pembroke High, a modern school for boys and girls, Jane Fitzwilliam was feeling anything but excited about the new academic year. While her peers eagerly chatted about extracurricular activities and upcoming social events, Jane found herself longing for the open fields and the freedom of riding her beloved horse, Whisper. The thought of another year of uninspiring classes and stifling etiquette lessons left her with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. If only she could escape these walls and be free to roam the countryside as she pleased! "Jane! Over here!" called a voice from across the corridor. Jane turned to see her best friend, Oliver, waving at her from the other side of the hall. Despite her sour mood, she couldn't help but smile at the sight of her oldest friend. Jane made her way over to Oliver, who was leaning casually against his locker, a mischievous grin on his face. "Still not feeling the school spirit, Fitzwilliam?" he teased. Jane rolled her eyes. "Oh please, Oliver, if I had my way, I'd be miles from this place right now," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You know me, I'm not exactly cut out for the classroom life." Oliver chuckled. "Well, you do have a point there, Jane. "So, what's the plan today?" He asked, shifting his weight and grabbing his backpack from the floor. "Are we going to skip out on the assembly this afternoon and head over to the stables? Whisper's probably missing you something fierce by now." Jane's eyes lit up at the mention of her horse. "As if I could ever resist a trip to the stables," she said, her voice suddenly alive with excitement. "But we'll have to be careful. I don't want to get in any more trouble with my father." Oliver's grin widened. "Well, we can't have that, can we?" Oliver said, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. "I'll handle the logistics. You just make sure you've got your best saddle and riding boots packed away in your closet. We'll make our escape during lunch period. And don't worry about getting caught—you know I'm the best at sneaking around this place." Jane felt a rush of adrenaline. "Alright then, let's do it," she said, her face alight with mischievous glee. "It's not like we'll be missing much at that assembly anyway. "You know, I bet old man Carter won't even notice we're gone," Oliver said, referring to their history teacher. "He'll be too busy rambling on about some obscure battle from the 18th century." Jane chuckled. "You're probably right. But we should at least try to look like we're paying attention for the first few minutes. Just so we don't raise any suspicions, you know?" Oliver nodded in agreement as they made their way to their seats. "And I suppose we'll have to endure that snooze-fest of a class for a couple hours." "It's a small price to pay for an afternoon of freedom, don't you think?" Jane replied, taking her seat. Oliver leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms overhead. "Freedom and horses—the two things you can't live without," he teased. Jane punched him lightly on the arm, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Hey, at least I have two things I'm passionate about," she said, "unlike you, with your nose buried in a textbook all day." Oliver laughed, settling into his seat. As the first bell rang, signaling the start of class, Jane's gaze fell on a new student seated in the back row. He was impeccably dressed in the school uniform, his dark hair swept back from his face, and his eyes were a striking shade of blue. Jane couldn't help but notice the way the other girls in the class were whispering and giggling among themselves, but she was far too curious to care about their gossip. "Hmm, new blood in the school, huh?" she whispered to Oliver, gesturing discreetly with her chin. Oliver followed Jane's gaze, his brows lifting in amusement. "Well, well, well. Looks like you've found a new distraction from your boredom," he teased. "But seriously, he's quite the catch, isn't he?" Jane tried her best to suppress a grin. "Oh, I'm not interested, per se," she said, feigning nonchalance. "But I am curious. He doesn't look like your typical Pembroke student, does he?" Oliver nodded in agreement. "Indeed, he's got a bit more edge to him. The classroom fell silent as the door opened and Mr. Carter, the history teacher, strode into the room, his robes rustling with each step. "Good morning, class," he greeted with a wry smile. "Today we'll be discussing one of England's most infamous monarchs: King Edward II. A man who, much like our dear Jane here, had a penchant for recklessness." Jane flushed red. "I do beg your pardon, sir," Jane retorted, sitting up straighter in her chair. "But if I recall correctly, the King met a most...unfortunate end at the hands of his wife and her lover. Perhaps his recklessness wasn't the only factor at play in his demise?" Mr. Carter chuckled, seemingly impressed by Jane's quick wit. "Well played, Miss Fitzwilliam," he said. "Indeed, the King's untimely end was shrouded in scandal, much like our next topic of discussion: the murder of Edward II." Princess Laura, who attended the same school, cleared her throat, her voice dripping with haughty disdain. "If I may interject, sir," she said, turning to glance at Jane. "Edward's untimely demise was a direct consequence of his defiance of the Church and his disregard for his duties as King. A most fitting end for such a degenerate ruler, if you ask me." Jane bristled, her cheeks reddening once more. "And what would you know of duty, your Highness?" Jane retorted, the sarcasm in her voice as sharp as a dagger. "As I recall, the role of a monarch is to protect and serve their subjects, not to sit upon a throne and cast judgment upon the world." Laura's eyes flashed with anger. "Watch your tongue, Miss Fitzwilliam," she hissed. "For a girl with such a tenuous grasp on her own position, you speak as though you were born a Queen yourself." "If I were a Queen," Jane shot back, "I would rule with justice and compassion, not arrogance and spite." Mr. Carter cleared his throat, raising his hands in an attempt to calm the brewing storm. "As fascinating as this debate is, ladies," he said, "perhaps we should redirect our attention to the topic at hand. After all, Edward's murder was a bloody affair, not a parlor game of political intrigue." Jane turned away from Princess Laura, her gaze fixed on the window, a stubborn set to her jaw. As Mr. Carter launched into his lecture, describing the gruesome details of Edward's demise, Jane's mind drifted away from the classroom. Her thoughts turned to Whisper, waiting for her at the stables, and to the freedom that awaited her beyond the school walls. But despite her longing for escape, she couldn't help but notice the way the new boy in the back row was scribbling notes furiously, his eyes fixed on Mr. Carter with intense interest. Was he a budding historian, or was there something more to this enigmatic young man?