فصل 14

Chapter 14

AGATHA

Fatima Finds a Friend

Two kings, ordered to kill her.

That’s what the pearl had unleashed.

A victory she thought she’d claimed for her prince.

Instead, a death sentence. For her.

But before the pearl had spoken to the boys, it had spoken to Agatha first.

She’d hurled into the night without thinking, streaking past friends and foe hunting an answer and swallowing it herself. The cold glass caught on her tongue, sliding down her throat with ease. Instantly, it dissolved, spewing harsh, stinging vapors that surged to the roof of her mouth, through her nostrils, and behind the eyes.

Looking inwards, she watched it take shape, this silvery mist, congealing into a ghost . . .

The Snake, in his green mask and suit of scims.

Only then he wasn’t the Snake anymore. His muscles swelled, his mask shedding, Agatha faced with the Green Knight instead.

Then he became the Snake again.

Back and forth, the phantoms went, Snake, Knight, Snake, Knight, faster, faster, until they morphed into a third ghost— Evelyn Sader.

Smiling at Agatha.

As if she, Evelyn, was the link between Snake and Knight.

A hidden secret for the winner to find.

But the mist was changing again . . . now the ghost of Arthur, the Lion of Camelot, her true love’s father, glowering at Agatha—she, the wrong winner; she, a mistake—the once-king rearing high inside her like a dragon . . .

Then she breathed him out like fire.

WHEN AGATHA WOKE up, she was in her old room at school.

It hadn’t changed a bit, Purity 51, as if she’d fallen back in time: jeweled mirrors on pink walls . . . murals flaunting princesses kissing princes . . . a fresco of clouds across the ceiling with cupids shooting love arrows. Over the bed was a white silk canopy shaped like a royal carriage, and at the end of the mattress a glass tray with milk-soaked oats, two hard-boiled eggs, and a chopped banana dusted with sugar. A card propped up against the tray had Sophie’s handwriting: Clearing

Agatha glanced across the room, the middle bed unmade, topped with a bowl of uneaten cucumber salad and a basket of beauty creams and potions. Agatha smelled the cloud of lavender left behind. There was a book open on the bed table: Black Magic Healing, Level 2, spread to a page about repairing broken limbs— She threw aside the sheets, revealing her right leg, shattered badly only a few hours ago.

No longer.

She stood, gently putting weight on it.

Aside from a dull ache within the bone, the leg seemed healed.

Last she remembered, she was nestled into Sophie aboard a stymph, her best friend whispering, “It’s okay, Aggie; it’s going to be okay,” as Agatha lay shell-shocked, unable to speak. In her haze, she must have fainted or fallen asleep. She didn’t remember getting to school or making it to this room. She certainly didn’t recall her leg being subject to witchcraft.

Agatha mustered a deep breath. She was awake. She could walk. It was time to face what was coming. But she couldn’t. Instead, she ate the food Sophie left her, taking the time to watch the violet sunrise and lick her fingers of every last grain of sugar. After noticing a spare Evergirl uniform in the closet, Agatha ambled to the toilet down the hall, disposing of her torn, filthy gown and stepping into the bath. Scalding water hit her skin, fogging her in with pleasure and silence. She pretended that she could hide away here, closed off from the world, like she once did in a graveyard long ago . . .

But then the dread came, the panic and regret, all the feelings she was trying to keep down.

This whole time they’d been fighting for the Storian.

Fighting for the Pen and the fate of its tales.

Tedros’ tale, above all.

The story of a boy trying to prove himself king.

And here she’d gone and hijacked it.

Swallowed it whole, like a whale inhaling the sea.

She wished she could say it was an accident.

But it wasn’t.

She saw a way out and took it . . . and lost sight of whose test it was.

And now the price.

For Tedros to become king, she’d have to die.

Not just die. He’d have to kill her.

Chills stung her skin, as if the bathwater had turned cold.

For her true love to defeat Japeth and keep his life—for all her friends to keep their lives—she’d have to give hers up.

The same sacrifice her mother made to save her.

Palms sweaty, nausea rising, she armored herself in the sleek pink uniform, the putrid color offset by the illusion that she was just an ordinary first year again, about to go to class. But there were no other students as she made her way through the halls. No teachers, fairies, wolves. Only a lone nymph, sweeping up candy dust that had shed off the walls of Hansel’s Haven, delicate piles of jellybean and gumdrop shavings that Agatha had just tramped through . . .

Once upon a time, she’d been the villain of a fairy tale. The sure pick for the School for Evil, while Sophie was destined for Good. But then came the Great Mistake. Two friends switched into the wrong schools. Only it wasn’t a mistake, the Pen said then. Agatha was the princess. Sophie the witch.

But now Agatha was the Evil one.

The witch who ruined a prince’s fairy tale.

And the strange thing was: it felt expected. As if she never fully believed herself a princess. Not the way Professor Dovey had, who’d insisted she was 100% Good. Not the way everyone else did, either, always trusting her to do the right thing. Deep down, Agatha never felt as Good as people thought her to be. And now, the truth would be clear for everyone to see. The Great Mistake was real—she belonged in Evil after all.

It was only when Agatha was halfway through one of the glass breezeways, still thinking of her old Dean, that she had a thought. That vision in the pearl . . . the riddle Arthur had hidden inside . . . What if she figured it out? The link between the Snake and the Green Knight . . . between two Japeths and Evelyn Sader . . . Then maybe she could expose who the Snake was! Maybe she could fix all this!

Her shoulders slumped, hope fading as quickly as it came.

Who Japeth was didn’t matter.

Not when she’d bound her prince to an impossible test.

Kill his princess or hand his throne to a Snake.

That was the trap she’d made for him.

He would protect her, of course.

He would give up Camelot for love.

But the second test wasn’t Tedros’ alone.

That’s why Japeth had smiled so wickedly as the prince flew away.

Because he knew Tedros would never finish the job.

The Snake would, though.

He’d hunt Agatha until it was done, putting him a single test from Excalibur killing Tedros.

Two birds with one swallow.

Agatha had put her and her prince in a death knot.

She was the true Witch of Woods Beyond now.

Even Professor Dovey would have seen that.

Through the glass passage, she gazed out at the School for Good and Evil, connected by Halfway Bridge, the sky over the castles crystal blue— Agatha’s heart jammed.

A new message from Lionsmane glowed to the west.

Tedros uses his princess to

cheat the first test.

Now he’ll pay the price.

His Agatha is the second test.

Help me, my Woods.

Wherever she runs . . .

Bring her to me. Alive.

Agatha’s chest clamped so hard she thought her ribs cracked.

She felt someone watching her.

Her focus shifted to the School Master’s tower at the center of the bay.

In the spire’s window, Bilious Manley stood next to the Storian as the pen hovered over an open book. But the professor’s eyes lingered on Agatha. He stared at her long and hard before clouds raided the sun, vanishing him into shadows.

Agatha picked up her pace. She could hear the buzz of conversation as she crossed from the breezeway into the Tunnel of Trees, leading outside.

The Clearing was full, the way it used to be at lunch. Only this time, there was no dividing line between Good and Evil, with friends, faculty, and first years crowded into the intimate picnic field outside the Blue Forest gates. As Agatha exited the tunnel, she spotted the young Everboys and Evergirls in the back: Bodhi, Laithan, Devan, Bert, Beckett, and Priyanka among them. In front of the Evers sat the first-year Nevers: Valentina, Aja, Bossam, Laralisa, and more. Then the crew of fourth years that had rescued them from Putsi—Vex, Ravan, Mona—plus others who had recovered from their quest injuries, including big-boned, flesh-headed Brone, his leg still in a cast. (Why didn’t someone use black magic to heal him too? Agatha wondered.) Next was Agatha’s own team: shirtless Hort, nursing his feet against ice blocks, his face and arms sunburnt, his chest lily-white, grumbling to himself while swigging cold cider, as if he’d gone from man-wolf to overcooked pirate. Beside him were Bogden and Willam, both bandaged and rubbed with colorful salves. Then Hester, Anadil, and Dot, with Dot still old and baby Merlin clutched to her chest. At the sides of the field, the faculty gathered: Professor Emma Anemone, Professor Sheeba Sheeks, Castor the Dog, and others, both Good and Evil. Only Yuba and Princess Uma were missing. Sophie, too, Agatha realized now. Students and teachers alike took in Agatha as she entered, her once allies, her only family, now silent and grim, like witnesses to a trial.

Overhead, Lionsmane’s message shimmered like a golden scar in the sky.

The audience returned their focuses forward: to their leader, seated on a stump between the two tunnels.

Tedros.

He had no shirt on, his body bruised and cut up, his breeches torn and dirt-stained. His gold curls still had leaves in them. Scim scratches blemished his right cheek. While Agatha had slept, eaten, bathed, he’d done none of these things. His cloudy blue eyes zeroed in on her, her prince sitting straighter.

Agatha wanted to say something, but Tedros spoke first.

“Sit down,” he ordered.

Agatha obeyed, searching in vain for Sophie, before dropping beside Hort.

“Hello, Fatima,” Hort slurred.

Agatha gave him a look.

“Fatima of Neverland whose tale the Storian told because she had so many friends but then did stupid things to lose them, one by one, until she had none.” Hort swigged more cider. “Friendless Fatima. That’s you.” Agatha tried to tune him out.

“You knew Sophie was out there. And you didn’t tell me,” Hort flamed, itching his sunburns. “So instead of protecting her, I end up a wolf chauffeur, ferrying Bilbo Bogden, his boyfriend, and a baby across Mahadeva in a heatwave, this after carrying you and Tedious around the Woods, and now I have sunstroke so bad Castor had to seal me in an ice coffin just to get me to remember my own name. But I remember what you did. Oh yes, I do. Taking Sophie for yourself. Keeping me from helping her.” He glowered at Agatha, who could see Tedros watching her from his stump, just as intensely.

“Witches were saying they were the ones who got the stymphs to rescue us,” said Tedros, emotionless.

“No offense, but we didn’t trust you out there on your own,” Hester explained to Agatha. “Not with the Snake on the loose. Once we got to school, we told the teachers. Figured they should put out a team to protect you.” “Glad you were of some use, considerin’ we sent you here to find an aging spell,” Hort heckled.

“We did find an aging spell, actually,” Anadil said, knife-sharp.

“Not the kind that works,” Hort blustered. “Dot’s still a fishwife and I can smell Merlin’s diaper from here.” “Because it has to be done in steps, you boiled rodent,” Hester retorted.

“It’s called an Age Defyer,” Anadil said, her two rats asleep on her shoulders. “Ages or de-ages you a single year each day, for as long as you take it.” “Same one my mother used to stay young enough to birth me at an old age,” said Hester. “Professor Sheeks helped us brew it. A stew of rat tears, turtle scales, and moldy cheese. Piping hot to grow older. Ice cold to turn young.” “Fed some to Merlin and myself this morning,” said Dot, snuggling the infant. “Death would have been preferable to the taste.” Agatha inspected Dot closer: indeed, she looked a tad fresher than she had in Bloodbrook, while Merlin was longer, plumper than before, clad in purple velvet robes and fur booties, his eyes radiating intelligence.

“Mama!” he babbled, spotting Agatha and hopping out of Dot’s arms to crawl towards her. “Mama llama! Mama llama!” Limited intelligence, Agatha thought.

She scooped Merlin up, his belly soft against her chest. The wizard baby had new white-blond curls beneath his cone-shaped bonnet, which smelled of sweet milk. Merlin drummed his fingers on Agatha’s cheeks. “Mama llama!” “In a matter of days, Merlin will be able to speak coherent sentences and communicate with us,” said Hester. “And in a couple weeks, he’ll be our age, equipped with his sorcerer powers.” “If he keeps his powers,” Professor Sheeks said, concerned. “We don’t know what he’s lost.” “AND WE DON’T HAVE WEEKS!” Castor the Dog blared, waving a paw at Lionsmane’s message. “WHOLE WOODS IS COMING FOR AGATHA!” “Castor’s right,” echoed Professor Anemone, unusually disheveled. “We can’t protect Agatha here. Not under that kind of attack.” “Of course we can,” said Laithan, the muscled, red-haired Everboy, rising to his feet. “Good always wins. That’s our duty as Evers. To hold our ground and fight for our queen.” “Nevers too,” said dark-browed Valentina, standing. “We defend Agatha. We defend the school!” “Like we did against Rafal,” said Ravan, bounding up. “We took down him and his army of zombies. We can do it again!” “No, we can’t,” Tedros repelled. “Rafal’s zombies were zombies. Kill Rafal and they died with him. This is the whole Woods, men, women, and creatures from a hundred kingdoms, each fighting for a leader they don’t even realize is their enemy. A leader far more vicious than Rafal. Robin Hood couldn’t defeat the Snake. Kei couldn’t either and he was a trained assassin. Japeth murdered Tinkerbell. He slayed my friend Betty like it was nothing. He killed Lancelot, Chaddick, the Sheriff of Nottingham, and so many more. And you think you can win this war for me. The same way Agatha thought she could. Which is why we’re here. About to lose.” Agatha reddened, like she’d been slapped.

Everyone’s eyes went to her. Even Merlin’s, the baby skittish and mute.

Tedros gave her a long stare. Not angry or cold, but weary and defeated, as if when a prince didn’t act a prince and a princess didn’t act a princess . . . this was the fitting result.

“So what do we do, then?” said blond Bert.

“How do we win?” asked blonder Beckett.

“How else? Make Tedros kill Agatha,” a voice said.

The crowd turned to Hort.

“It’s the second test, ain’t it?” he groused, waving his cup, splashing cider everywhere. “Dear ol’ Teddy spears her and he wins. Then all he has to do is finish the third test and the Snake’s dead. Trade Agatha’s life for ours. That’s what a king would do.” Agatha gaped at Hort, speechless.

“What you get for hoardin’ Sophie to yourself,” Hort murmured.

“You have a girlfriend!” Agatha hissed back.

“You have a girlfriend and boyfriend!” Hort scorched. “You kiss everyone!” “Enough!” Professor Sheeks boomed. “As long as Agatha and Tedros are students at this school, there will be no killing!” “But Agatha’s not a student anymore,” hairy, three-eyed Bossam pointed out. “And Hort’s right. If Agatha dies, we’re all safe—” “You don’t think ‘King Japeth’ will destroy the school the first chance he gets? Along with everyone in it?” Professor Anemone assailed. “As long as Agatha’s sitting here, she’s a student. And our best one at that.” “If she’s the best, then why did she mess things up?” Bossam pushed.

“Yeah,” said Aja angrily, “why do we have to die defending her because of her mistake?” More Nevers rumbled. Evers too.

“Because it wasn’t a mistake, you fools,” a voice declared from a tunnel, followed by Sophie flouncing into the clearing, hair styled, makeup done, her white dress molded into a glittery winged kimono. “Sorry, I’m late. The hex to fix Aggie’s leg picked one of my own bones to break in return.” She held up her right hand, wrapped in bandages. “Could have been worse, of course, but beautifying with one hand is about as enticing as a night with Hort.” She smiled at the weasel, as if she’d overheard everything he’d said to Agatha in her absence.

Hort went pink.

“Oh right, and this so-called ‘mistake,’” Sophie said, fluttering her good hand at the crowd. “Agatha swallowed the answer to stop Japeth from claiming it first. Tedros had plenty of chances to win, but as usual, he didn’t get the job done. It was Agatha who saved him from losing. It was Agatha who saved us from the Snake being ahead in the race. If anything, it was she who acted the king.” Agatha blushed with love. Sophie. Her knight in shining armor. Sophie, who’d broken herself to heal her best friend. Sophie, who’d found the Good in her, even when Agatha thought herself Evil. Her friend was never a witch. Just like Agatha wasn’t a princess. They were both, always both, the line between princess and witch as thin as the line between stories and real life.

Tedros eyed Sophie stonily. “So I’m to blame, then. My own princess interfering in my test is my fault. My father telling me I have to kill her is my fault.” “Do you think I’d have done it if I’d known what would happen?” Agatha stood up, the baby bobbing against her chest. “I was trying to save us. I wasn’t thinking—” “That much we can agree on,” said Tedros.

“Because you’re the model of calm, deliberate thought,” Sophie chirped, flanking Agatha.

Students and teachers peeked between the prince, his princess, and her best friend, three points of a triangle.

“What should I have done, then?” Agatha challenged Tedros, emboldened by Sophie. “Let Japeth win?” “You didn’t give me a chance to win!” Tedros said, jumping to his feet. “I’m the one fighting for the throne. I need you to help me. Not stand in my way!” “I’m not trying to stand in your way! I want you to have a head!” said Agatha.

“So rarely used, though,” Sophie chimed.

Merlin clapped with glee.

“This is why the Snake will win,” Tedros muttered, sinking to his stump. “Because he doesn’t have anyone holding him back. Because he fights for himself!” “I thought that’s what made us Good,” Agatha replied. “We fight for each other.” Tedros looked at her.

“And you’re wrong. Japeth isn’t fighting for himself,” Sophie added. “He wants to raise someone from the dead. That’s why he wants the Storian’s powers. That’s why he wants your ring. For love. Just like you.” “Don’t compare him to me,” Tedros lashed, still riled up. “He wants his mother back. That horrible Sader woman. We already know that.” “No. Not Evelyn,” Sophie said, starkly. “That’s who Rhian loved. It’s why Japeth killed him. The Snake wants someone else back. His best friend. His true love.” Sophie’s words hit Agatha like a blow. She turned to Tedros, who’d understood too, his fire dissipating.

“Aric?” he said. “That’s what he wants? To bring Aric back to life?” Agatha could feel the whole school tense up, contemplating the return of Lady Lesso’s son, a sadist with a black hole for a soul. The only thing worse than a Snake was two of them, united by love.

Tedros and Agatha locked eyes, the prince’s gaze plaintive, as if the time for blame was over.

“There’s nowhere we can go that Japeth won’t find you,” he said to her. “There’s no solution to the test. Not that keeps us both alive.” “But you can stay alive,” Agatha answered, damp with sweat, her neck red. Merlin gripped her shirt with small fists. “You can still win the test.” Tedros’ expression changed. He leaned forward, looking very much a man. “Listen to me, Agatha. I will never hurt you. Never. I will fight until my last breath to keep you safe.” He spoke with such strength, such clarity, that even with death hanging between them, Agatha felt a rush of love. She didn’t want to die. But she needed to hear her prince say it. That they were in this together. That she still meant everything to him. That he loved her, no matter what.

Tedros smiled sadly at her. Even love couldn’t save them now. They were cornered, with no way out. He sighed and glanced at Sophie, as if for once in his life, he’d take suggestions from her. But Sophie, too, was at a loss.

The three of them were trapped.

Their story at a dead end.

Until a deep voice broke the silence.

“There is a way.”

For a second, Agatha thought it’d come from the sky or from the child in her arms.

Then she saw Professor Manley, standing inside the mouth of Evil’s tree tunnel, his pale, lumpy flesh and the glare of his eyes reflecting through darkness.

“Come with me,” he said, heading back into the tunnel.

Everyone in the Clearing stood up—

“No. You.” Manley pointed a sharp, dirty nail at Tedros and Agatha. “Only you.” Agatha and her prince exchanged looks. They hurried after him, Merlin at Agatha’s breast— Sophie blocked her path, facing off with Manley. “Where she goes, I go.” Manley was about to retort—

“I still am Dean of the school in which you teach, Bilious, given I never resigned the position,” Sophie clipped.

Professor Manley’s eggish head shivered as if it might explode. “Suit yourself,” he snarled, stomping into the tunnel, now three pairs of feet chasing him.

Make that four.

“Ain’t leavin’ me behind!”

Agatha spun to see Hort bundling after Sophie, half-naked and barefoot. “Not this time, Fatima! Not ever!” the weasel spewed.

Sophie blinked at him. “Who in lord’s name is Fatima?” “Don’t ask,” said Agatha, pulling her best friend ahead.

HIGH IN THE School Master’s tower, the Storian was paused over a nearly blank page. Professor Manley looked down at it, Agatha and her friends circled around him.

There was no painting. No scene.

Only a single line, in bold, black script beneath the empty space.

“There was a way.”

Tedros frowned. “That’s it? That’s all it says?” “How is that supposed to help us?” Sophie asked Manley.

“What good is a ‘way’ if we don’t know what it is?” Hort piled on.

Agatha had the same questions.

Then, suddenly, the Storian began to glow.

A deep, urgent gold.

The ring on Tedros’ finger began to glow the same hue.

Tedros’ eyes widened. “What’s happening—”

The glowing Storian stabbed down to the page, inking a painting in furious sweeps of color. A painting of Agatha and Tedros in this very tower. The couple was standing at the back window, the prince’s arm around her waist as Agatha clasped a baby to her chest, the two of them gazing into the sun.

Beneath the painting, the Pen’s words remained: “There was a way.” Prince and princess looked at each other, baffled.

Agatha saw Manley peering at her intently, as if she already had the answers.

Then Agatha remembered.

The last time she was in this tower. It happened then too. The Storian painted something that had yet to take place. At the time, she’d questioned why the pen was acting out of turn. The Storian’s job was to write the story as it happened. But suddenly the pen was jumping ahead . . . warning them of dangers . . . guiding them to clues . . .

“Sometimes the story leads you,” Yuba the Gnome had told her.

Agatha examined the Pen closer.

“The Storian needs our help to keep it alive,” she said, studying its steel, a single swan left. Camelot’s swan. The last tether of the Pen’s power. “That’s why it’s helping us.” “You’re not making sense,” Tedros dismissed, pointing at the painting. “How is this helping us?” But Sophie seemed to understand. Sophie, who’d always had her own mysterious connection with the Storian, from the very first time she and her best friend had found it.

Sophie looked at the Pen . . .

Then at Agatha.

In a flash, the two girls were on the move, pushing Tedros towards the back window.

“We have to do it!” Sophie exerted.

“Do what?” the prince asked, mystified.

“Do the pose!” said Agatha, matching her stance in the painting, Merlin fussing against her shoulder. “Hold me the way you are in the painting, Tedros! Hurry!” Tedros slung his arm around Agatha’s waist. “I really don’t get why—” “Other side,” Sophie badgered.

Tedros growled, letting her position him, but Merlin twitched restlessly, delivering a slap to the prince’s eye. “Ow! Why’d you bring the damn baby! Get rid of him!” “It’s Merlin!” Agatha barked.

“Shhh! Both of you!” Sophie snapped. “Now look out the window.” Grumbling, Tedros angled towards the Woods, Agatha trying to subdue Merlin, while Sophie waited carefully out of frame.

Nothing happened.

Hort yawned against the wall. “I’ve seen a lot of daft things in my life but—” Manley kicked him. “Stay focused,” the teacher directed Agatha and Tedros. “Follow the pen—” The Storian crackled with blue static, pointing in Manley’s direction, as if he risked punishment by interfering any further.

And yet, he’d said all he needed to.

“When Man Becomes Pen,” Agatha remembered.

That was August Sader’s theory.

Man and Pen in balance.

A calm came over Agatha as she nestled against Tedros, the wizard baby settling down, taking her cue. Soon Agatha was as still as the Agatha in the painting. And with Agatha’s stillness, Tedros stopped fidgeting, too, and found his own place of quiet, their living selves in union with their ones on the page. Fate and free will in perfect flow, each feeding the other. The silence in the tower thickened, as if the story had taken a breath . . .

Then Agatha heard it.

A galloping sound below.

Tedros’ eyes widened.

Together, they looked out into the Woods . . . at the gates of the school flying open . . . a blur of motion rushing through . . .

A masked rider in black atop a horse.

No. Not a horse.

A camel.

It skidded to a stop at the edge of the lake, the rider standing atop its hump before tilting masked eyes up towards Agatha and Tedros in the tower window.

“Animals can help you if you help them. First thing I taught you at school!” a bright voice called. “You must have learned your lesson well.” The rider took off the mask.

Princess Uma smiled. “Because this animal’s found a way to help you.” The camel grinned, too, craning its head up to Agatha.

A camel Agatha knew.

A camel she’d saved from its own trap.

Now come to save her and her prince.

“Mama llama!” Merlin giggled. He pointed at the camel. “Llama! Llama!” Agatha gaped at the baby.

“Definitely keeping him with us,” said Tedros.