فصل 29

Chapter 29

AGATHA

Chateau Sugar East

She’d never seen that kind of pain in Sophie’s eyes.

Not in Gavaldon, not at school, not in the years that followed.

Something had happened to Sophie in their time apart. Something that changed her.

And yet, Sophie was still alive.

Not just alive, but with an army.

She’d found Excalibur too.

Just like Agatha and her prince had.

Of course she did, Agatha thought.

She expected nothing less of her best friend.

As if The Tale of Sophie and Agatha had never really ended, the Pen still writing their fates with inextricable symphony, even when they were apart, harmony and melody to the same score— A gob of snow slapped her in the face.

The giant black rat bounded across the Frostplains, weaving between swords, kicking up icy snow, forcing Agatha to hold tighter to Tedros’ waist and duck behind his back like a shield. Her prince gripped the leash around the rat’s neck, absorbing a stinging spray of cold as he kicked the rat’s flank, driving it faster. On a second rat behind them, Anadil and Hester rode with Merlin, the boy wizard puking over the side as Anadil’s rat pulled next to Tedros.

“It’s because you ate all that junk from your hat,” the prince chided.

“You’re . . . not . . . my . . . dad,” Merlin wheezed, before retching again.

“This is why I don’t like boys,” Hester growled. “Can’t go through puberty without making a mess of it.” “To be fair, you don’t like boys for a lot of other reasons,” said Anadil.

“How’d you find us?” Agatha asked the witches.

Hester nodded up at her demon, high in the blue night sky, scouting the landscape for danger. “After Shazabah, I told him to fly over the Woods and look for you two.” “Told her not to do it. If her demon dies, she dies,” Anadil said sourly.

“Found them, didn’t he? And when he did, I felt it, just like you felt your rats nearby before we found them in the Woods. A little worse for wear, maybe,” said Hester, stroking the bald patches on the rat’s fur where it had been hit by camel fire, “but aren’t we all.” She turned to Agatha. “And you’re sure the sword’s at Chaddick’s house?” “Has to be,” said Tedros, almost to himself, still thinking about what happened in the Lady’s cave. “Only place that makes sense.” “And Sophie confirmed it,” Agatha said to the witches, who seemed unsettled by everything she and Tedros had told them after they retrieved their friends from Avalon.

“Chaddick, the King,” said Anadil softly. “Doesn’t seem right, does it?” “Which is why Chaddick never became king,” Hester surmised. “Storian finds a way of making things right, even if its way of doing it feels all wrong.” Witches and Agatha looked to Tedros, gauging his emotions, but the prince kept his eyes on the icy path.

“Are we . . . there . . . yet?” Merlin rasped—

He puked again, waking a cluster of fireflies in the rat’s fur. They flickered slightly, then went back to sleep, exhausted from the journey and helping Agatha see Sophie.

“Gnomeland fireflies . . . There must be some with Sophie too . . . That’s how she saw us . . . ,” Tedros said, glancing at Agatha. “Which means the gnomes know where she is . . .” She caught on to his thinking.

Reaper.

Her cat was king of the gnomes.

The wind picked up, the rats grunting loudly, laboring against it. “Sophie found the sword. Which means she knows where Chaddick’s house is, while I don’t have a clue,” Tedros called to Hester. “Told her to meet us at Snow White’s cottage in Foxwood. First place I thought of. Been deserted since Rafal’s zombies killed the dwarves. If Sophie knows where Chaddick lived, she can take us there.” Agatha saw Hester and Anadil eyeing each other. “What is it?” “Japeth must know the sword’s in Foxwood,” said Anadil. “That’s why Lionsmane’s message disappeared.” “These rats are as fast as his horses,” Tedros started—

“Japeth’s only one of your problems,” Hester cut off. “The entire Woods is sending armies to protect him until he wins the third test. We saw them on the move. Right after Lionsmane’s message vanished. Which means if the sword’s at Chaddick’s house, then there’s thousands of soldiers heading there too.” “Which means getting you anywhere near Foxwood will be . . . a challenge,” said Anadil.

Agatha thought of Sophie last’s words over the firefly broadcast: “No! Foxwood’s a death trap!” She could feel Tedros’ muscles steel under her arms. “Whatever is waiting for us, I’ll handle it,” he said soundly.

Agatha didn’t argue.

Which was . . . strange.

She was so used to being afraid for her prince, a fear that made her meddle with his quests and strain to protect him. But something had changed in Tedros ever since he’d heard the Lady’s story. His old doubts had vanished, replaced with a sureness of mission. Agatha trusted him now. Because he trusted himself. Over his shoulder, she could see the heat in his stubbled cheek, the crystal blue of his eye. His chest was proud and full, his golden curls wild in the wind. Agatha stayed silent, letting him be, the same way she’d stayed back as he’d said goodbye to the Lady at the shore of her lake. Agatha had watched their silhouettes, Tedros’ strong and straight, the Lady’s shrunken and cowed, the prince whispering to her, before the Lady’s expression suddenly changed. Something Tedros said had broken through, the darkness and pain in her beginning to lift. Behind them, her frozen lake thawed. From its silver waters the Lady drew an apple, greenest of greens, and bestowed it on the prince as a gift. It would have no magic, Agatha thought, for the sorceress’s powers were lost. But Tedros didn’t seem to care. He kissed her on the cheek, his own gift of forgiveness for the Lady’s mistakes. Gone was the anger, the secrets, all washed away. This would be the last time they’d see each other. That Agatha knew for sure. The Lady was at peace now. Her days soon over, by her own wish. But Tedros still had more days to fight for. A fight that had an uncertain end. Agatha held him tighter, hand on his chest, the apple there in the lining of his coat, firm against her prince’s heart.

“Let’s share it,” she said. “The apple, I mean. We haven’t had anything to eat since Shazabah.” Tedros pulled her hand away and kissed it.

“Where’s Dot?” he asked the witches.

“Her mother took her to a witch doctor in Sherwood Forest to try and de-age her,” said Hester.

“Dot’s mother knows Sherwood Forest well,” Anadil quipped.

Agatha gave them a surprised look and Hester winked back. They’d figured it out too.

“Her mother?” Tedros said, eyes still ahead. “Who’s Dot’s mother?” “Don’t worry. Not yours,” Merlin croaked, finally righting himself.

Tedros’ head swung to the wizard boy. For a second, Agatha thought the prince might beat him up. Then Tedros burst out laughing. “Same old Merlin . . .” Night deepened, the sky bruising black. Still, the rats carried on, their eyes glowing in the dark, Merlin clearing swords in front of them with strikes of pink lightning, growing bigger and stronger as the young wizard gained control. Soon light cut over the iceplains with angry whipcracks, lashing out in every direction, a teenager’s chaos given full outlet to bloom, sending the ashes of Arthur’s game up in pink smoke. Then, all at once, trees encroached around them, closer, closer, trapping them in the darkness of a forest. Movement rustled in the branches, the glint of white bones and hollow eye sockets, leering down at the trespassers, before the birds reared back, letting them pass. Here in the Stymph Forest, there would be no enemy forces, since it was school territory and no one trespassed near the School for Good and Evil without consequences. (Rafal’s zombies and Rhian’s pirates learned that lesson harshly.) Even now, it was the only part of the Woods untouched by phantom swords, as if Arthur too had known the school was beyond his power, equal and separate to Camelot. Hester’s demon returned to her neck, its job done, as the rats hurtled faster down swordless paths. Tedros’ rat pulled ahead, leaving the witches and Merlin behind. His pace was so smooth, Tedros’ back so warm and taut against Agatha’s breast, that her eyelids grew heavy. When her prince spoke at last, she wasn’t sure if she was dreaming.

“Agatha, when we get to Foxwood, I need you to make me a promise.” “Mmm?”

“If anything happens to me, don’t mourn for me.”

Now she was awake. “Tedros—”

“Listen to me. You’re to go on. You’re to keep fighting. You’re to do what needs to be done. Don’t let what happens to me stop us from getting to The End. I’m with you in life and death.” “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Promise me you’ll keep going. Promise me you’ll fight on.” “Tedros, you and I . . . we’re one. Whatever happens to you happens to me—” “Promise me, Agatha.” He gripped her thigh. “Please.”

There was such clarity in his voice, as if they couldn’t go further without her vow. How could she tell him she would never agree to such a thing? That his death would be her own? But he’d left no room for her feelings. This was the king commanding something of his princess. For the sake of his kingdom. For the greater Good. And Goodness was sacred to Agatha, even more than love.

“I promise,” said Agatha.

Tedros exhaled, his shoulders easing, as if her words had unchained him.

“Will you make the same promise?” Agatha asked. “If something happens to me?” But now the second rat was catching up, Merlin and the witches snapping at each other.

“You couldn’t have found a useful aging potion? Something that doesn’t work at a glacial pace?” the wizard boy was saying. “You could have gone to any witch—” “This was my mother’s recipe and she was a witch,” Hester retorted. “Teachers at school didn’t have anything better.” “Then use a library,” Merlin bit back. “There’s a thousand aging potions more effective than this one. The old me could recite them in my sleep!” “Then make one yourself!” Anadil scolded.

“Your potion is so worthless I can’t remember my spells!”

“And here I thought you’d be grateful to us for everything we’ve done for you,” Hester griped, like an aggrieved parent.

“If it wasn’t for us, you’d still be a baby in a cave instead of here picking fights and harassing us with your mood swings,” Anadil piled on.

The wizard boy groaned. “This is insufferable, being ganged up on by two girls who have no interest beside each other’s loyalty.” “That’s what a good girlfriend does,” Hester trumped.

“Oh, I’m your girlfriend now?” Anadil said, peeking back at her. “Shouldn’t that warrant some conversation?” “Girl friend. Two words,” said Hester.

“That’s not what it sounded like,” said Anadil.

“God, please let me not be a teenager much longer,” Merlin begged.

“You want me to say ‘I love you’ like all the Everboys?” Hester baited Anadil.

“Say it like that and I’ll cut your throat,” Anadil spat.

Agatha could hear Tedros chuckling, the seriousness of the promise between them passed, her own question to him forgotten. She knew not to press the point. The witches’ voices faded as the rats diverged onto separate paths around a patch of trees, leaving Agatha and her prince alone.

“I can hear you thinking back there,” Tedros teased.

“Oh, just about all the different kinds of love,” said Agatha.

“You mean, like what happens if Hester and Anadil get married? Does it end in a massacre instead of a dance?” “Only of closed-minded princes.”

“I’ve kissed boys, turned into a girl, and am marrying you. No one can say I’m closed-minded.” “Funny, isn’t it? So many ways to love,” Agatha said wistfully. “You and me, me and Sophie, you and . . . Filip.” “I am ashamed of nothing. Other than who Filip turned out to be.” “Sophie did make a beautiful boy.”

“No argument. But what good is beauty when it’s based on a lie?” “Sometimes your whole world seems like a lie.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that nothing is as it seems here. I always have the story wrong, right when I think I’ve figured it out.” “It wasn’t the same in the Reader realm?”

“Here, anything is possible. In real life, people are afraid of what they can’t understand.” Agatha thought of her mother, Callis, hunted by those who thought her a witch. “That’s why only children read fairy tales where I come from. At some point, people become afraid of life’s mysteries. With age, their lives get smaller and smaller. They judge with their fears instead of their hearts. In your world, not everyone can have a happy ending. The Pen won’t allow it. But in my world, every Man thinks they deserve one. They turn on each other when things go wrong. They try to beat back the hand of fate. And when they can’t . . . that’s when Evil is born. Real Evil. The kind that killed my mother.” “Sounds like Japeth would fit right in there,” said Tedros.

Agatha held the thought in her head. “Tedros?” She looked up at her prince. “What if Japeth cheats? What if he has Chaddick’s blood hidden on him like Rhian did? What if Excalibur thinks he’s the heir?” Tedros smiled back at her. “I’m counting on it.”

Agatha had no idea what he meant, but the pureness of his gaze preempted any questions, as if for once, her prince was well ahead of her. The forest opened up into a field of willow trees with silver, shimmering leaves, like Christmas tinsel, the glow of dawn pressing against the dark. Agatha looked back to see the second rat lag out of the Stymph Forest, well behind theirs. Hunger stirred in Agatha’s stomach, with no time to stop and Merlin’s hat out of reach.

“Do you think Chaddick would have made a good king?” Tedros asked.

“No, not really,” said Agatha. “He would always look to you.” “You’re just being nice.”

“Too hungry for that. Chaddick was a born knight.”

“A loyal knight,” said Tedros.

He paused, thinking about his friend and liege.

“But not meant to lead,” he admitted.

The prince and his princess fell quiet.

Agatha kissed the back of his neck. “Can I eat your apple?” Tedros sighed. “Think I’m going to hang on to it a little while longer.” He sounded far away, Agatha’s head suddenly heavy and slow. Sleep assailed her, stronger than before, a strange powerless feeling she knew. She looked up at the willow trees, shedding silvery leaves over her like stars . . . Sleeping Willows . . . She grabbed at Tedros’ chest to warn him, her eyes closing, but he showed no signs of flagging, muscles hard and eyes flared, his will and desire fending off the spell. Agatha strained to stay awake, fists clenched, determined to protect him . . .

The next time she blinked, it was morning, the sun bright over Foxwood.

Her prince was gone.

So was the rat.

AGATHA WAS CURLED up deep under a magnolia bush, a sweet honey smell breaking through her dull senses, along with the buzz of a crowd and the crisp clanging of metal. She pried apart a bough of flowers and spotted the thin towers of Foxwood’s royal castle fanned against the horizon. But in front of that castle was a wall of soldiers, thousands of men deep, dressed in varied armor and shields, gathered under flags of different kingdoms: Kyrgios in pea green, Netherwood in glossy purple, Hamelin in checkered yellow and orange, Akgul in red and black . . . Then, from behind, Agatha heard voices: two Akgul guards in helmets and armor, hacking through bushes with their swords, coming straight towards her.

“Saw him myself. Prince Tedros it was,” grunted one. “Ridin’ somethin’ like a big rat.” “Must be with his witch friends,” guessed the second guard.

They slashed through more bushes, getting closer and closer to Agatha. She pulled out of the bush to flee— —only to be yanked back.

She spun to see Hester and Anadil, fingers to lips. Agatha started to ask something, but Anadil’s rats hissed “Shhh!” from her pocket. Hester pointed across, to Tedros and Merlin, camouflaged in a bush. Tedros mouthed to Agatha: “Don’t move.” The two guards eviscerated the bushes, only a few feet from Agatha’s. With fingers, Tedros counted at Hester: 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .

Merlin and Hester sprung out of the bushes, each shooting a spell at a guard. Hester’s knocked her guard out; Merlin’s didn’t, instead swelling his guard’s helmet ten sizes, so the guard bumbled inside it like a barrel, slashing his sword blindly. The boy wizard shot another spell. This one turned the guard’s sword into a ferret. Merlin tried one more, only to vanish the guard’s pants.

“For God’s sake, Merlin,” Tedros growled.

He punched the guard out.

“It’s that age potion. I’m telling you,” Merlin complained.

“Don’t even start,” said Hester, freeing the ferret into the bushes.

A few minutes later, two soldiers in red-and-black armor crammed into the mob of armies, who were all on the lookout for Tedros of Camelot.

“Snow White’s cottage is to the east,” Tedros whispered through his helmet.

“It’ll be guarded too. The whole kingdom is,” Agatha whispered back. “Let’s go straight to Chaddick’s house—” “We don’t know where it is! That’s why we need Sophie!” said Tedros.

Through her eyehole, Agatha spotted Merlin, Hester, and Anadil scuttling to the citizens’ checkpoint, where guards hunting for Tedros assessed them with Matchers and allowed them to pass (Merlin’s name popping up made them give the well-suited teenager a second glance, before they shrugged and let him go). Tedros knew that he and Agatha would never survive the Matchers, which is why he’d suggested sneaking through the armies and meeting the witches and Merlin at Snow White’s. But now the plan seemed foolish.

“I can’t move,” Tedros gritted, stuck between trolls.

“Neither can I,” said Agatha, a throng of Rainbow Gale nymphs blocking her.

Drumbeats thundered in the distance.

“Quit your pushin’,” a troll snarled at Tedros. “King Rhian’s comin’. We’ll all get a good look.” Tedros and Agatha ducked their heads, hoping the troll hadn’t inspected them too closely.

Drums boomed louder, followed by a flourish of horns.

“That must be Japeth!” Agatha whispered to her prince. “We need to hurry—” Fanfare exploded behind them, the trumpets of a royal procession, as the trees and bushes around Foxwood’s border began to shake. The foliage burst open, a parade of toy horses rolling through, every horse the size of an elephant, each completely covered in mosaics of . . . candy. There was a gumdrop horse, a lollipop horse, a marzipan horse, a caramel brittle horse, a cake truffle horse, a macaron horse, even a horse wrapped in tiny butterscotch balls. But the greatest horse of all, twice as tall as the rest, was latticed in bright red licorice, and atop this horse rose a figure in a red head-to-toe veil, her eyes gleaming through diaphanous silk, an enormous crown of white spun sugar extending off her head like antlers. The fanfare seemed to be coming from inside her horse, the veiled stranger striking poses to each new beat—tree pose, wheel pose, even a headstand in her saddle—like some sort of equestrian yoga, before the toy animals all rolled to a stop and the drums fell to silence. Hands on hips, the red woman stood with a high-heeled boot on her horse’s head and glared down at the hundred armies of the Woods.

“Who claims to have authority here?” she announced in a mystifying accent at once low-class and posh.

A sea of men gaped back at her.

“I said, who claims authority here?” she drawled.

“Me! Me!” yelped a voice far away, before a short, balding man in a lopsided crown popped up amidst the armies, wrestling his way through. He was red-faced and sweaty, with an egg-colored tunic and hideous brown scarf that made him look a bit like Humpty Dumpty. “I’m King Dutra of Foxwood! This is my kingdom!” “Incorrect, wee little man,” said the red stranger. “This is my kingdom. This entire Woods is my kingdom. I am the Sugar Queen, diva supreme and mistress of realms across the Savage Sea, come to claim the throne of Camelot, as is my right.” The king looked as gobsmacked as the soldiers around him. “B-b-but this is King Rhian’s land—King Rhian of Camelot—” “As far as I know, there is no king of Camelot at present,” the Sugar Queen snipped. “Arthur’s will specified two contenders for his throne. I don’t care who the second contestant is, but one of them is me. The Tournament of Kings is ongoing, is it not? A sword trapped in a stone that will decide the next king? Well, when Excalibur feels my touch, I assure you . . . I will be king.” Tedros squeezed Agatha’s arm. “What in the—” But Agatha was studying the Sugar Queen, who seemed to be staring right at her.

Meanwhile, the Foxwood king puffed his belly and stood taller. “I am loyal to the Lion. Every man here is. You have no jurisdiction on this side of the sea. Return to your sugar swamp and be gone!” The Sugar Queen’s eyes fell on him through her veil. “You are short and incompetent. An unforgivable combination in a man. One more word and I shall open my horses, unleashing a poisoned sugar mist that will slay you and all your armies with a single breath. Then I can conquer your lands as I have all others: in silence and peace.” The king looked appalled, but the Sugar Queen went on: “That said, I am known for my fairness and generosity. If King Rhian believes he has a claim to the sword, then let him come to me and explain why, before we each take our turn in full view of the people.” The Foxwood king was sweating so profusely it was dripping into his mouth. “King Rhian has not yet arrived . . . delayed by an attack of traitorous mongooses in the forest . . .” “Then I’ll proceed to my accommodations at Snow White’s cottage. Snow and I met years ago before her unfortunate death. She would sail across the Savage Sea and come stay with me at Chateau Sugar. Became dear friends, she and I. Left me her cottage in her will. Now to be my royal palace on this side of the sea,” the Sugar Queen declared, her horse procession gliding in Agatha’s direction as stunned soldiers made way. “Bring King Rhian to my palace the instant he arrives. Failure to do so will result in all of your deaths, including his. And given I trust not a one of you, I shall take two hostages, who will be killed if you disobey.” From the butterscotch horse, tiny hands suddenly reached out from its mouth and yanked Agatha and Tedros inside.

Agatha heard Tedros yowl in surprise, her hand holding his in the dark, before they were pulled apart, Agatha caught by warm bodies she couldn’t see. The smell of sweet, cloying candy overwhelmed her. She threw off her helmet: between cracks in the licorice shell, she glimpsed the King of Foxwood chasing their horse. “You’ve kidnapped Akgul soldiers! This is illegal! You have no right!” “Bring King Rhian to me or their blood will be on your hands!” the Sugar Queen bellowed, her procession picking up pace, breaking through the last of the soldiers. The king toddled after them with his coterie of bodyguards, shouting things Agatha could no longer hear, her body tossed and jostled by whoever it was that was holding her up.

A boy gasped behind her—

Agatha whirled to see Tedros, helmet off, holding his lit finger like a spotlight. “Gnomes!” he said.

Agatha followed his glow to an entire fleet of the ruddy, cone-capped dwarves packed into the horse, jogging their tiny feet on the ground and pushing the candied procession along. They shielded their eyes from Tedros’ glow, before a toothless granny gnome cupped her fist over the prince’s finger, plunging them back into darkness. Outside, they were approaching Snow White’s cottage, nestled into a clearing. Colorful shrubs had grown around the ramshackle two-floor house made of lumpy wood with a domed roof shaped like a princess’s hat. “Oh, no, no, this won’t do at all,” Agatha heard the Sugar Queen sigh, an array of hot pink spells firing at the cottage, refitting it into a chic candy chalet, with gingerbread eaves, gumball stucco, and powdered sugar windows, along with a lethally sharp rock-candy fence around the house and a blinking sign: Chateau Sugar East

No Visitors Allowed

(Except King Rhian)

Horses plowed forward and the door to Chateau Sugar East magically swung open, sugarcoated ponies all jamming into the dusty foyer one by one, before the licorice horse piled in last and the door slammed and bolted shut, the Foxwood king’s belligerent shouts still echoing outside.

Instantly, Agatha felt her horse bust open, the licorice shattering, as all the gnomes dispersed, wagging their bottoms and eating up the sweet debris. All the other horses erupted in a carnage of candy, not just gnomes flooding out (including a full marching band), but friends and first years too: Willam, Bogden, Valentina, Aja, Laithan, Ravan, Vex, Brone . . . But Agatha couldn’t count them all, for there was a ghostly heap of red silk sweeping towards her, snatching her and Tedros and pinning them against a wall, before the Sugar Queen flung off her veil and leveled them both with an emerald glare.

“I’m going to kill that dirty, rotten Snake and here’s how,” said Sophie.

HER PLAN WAS brutally simple.

Step 1: Bait Japeth here, already in progress. The moment he arrived in Foxwood, he’d hear of his new rival and come straight to Chateau Sugar East.

Step 2: Act like his friend. A fellow ruler simply here to iron out a misunderstanding.

Step 3: Lure him into the house alone.

Step 4: Ambush him with a hundred gnomes and students from the school and rid the Woods of the Snake once and for all.

“All done in a matter of minutes,” Sophie said, her red veil magically refitting into Evelyn’s familiar white dress. “Then while Japeth is nowhere to be found . . . Tedros appears, pulls the sword out of the stone, and voilà!—the true Lion reveals himself. An unassailable plan. The End of Ends. Absolutely foolproof.” “You know I’m not one for Sophie’s schemes, especially one that traps me in a knockoff of my mother’s house,” said Hester, tramping in from another room with Anadil, the two having arrived before. “That said, the plan isn’t shabby.” “Could have done without the circus, though,” Anadil grouched, gnomes around her gorging on candy.

“We have lookouts to alert us when he’s coming,” Sophie added, peeking through shutters at Bodhi and Laithan, posted at the rock-candy gates and wearing Tedros’ and Agatha’s stolen Akgul helmets. Sophie sealed the shutters once more, so no one could see into the house. She turned to her best friend. “What do you think, Aggie?” There were things about the plan Agatha hated.

Inviting the Snake here.

Sophie taking on the burden of danger.

But there were also things that Agatha liked: Tedros would have a clear route to winning the third test. And no matter how unfairly Japeth fought, this was too big an ambush for him to survive. His death would truly be a taste of his own medicine.

Only Tedros didn’t seem to see it that way.

He had a pensive frown on his face, his back against the wall, his eyes on the closed-up windows.

“It’s a good plan, Teddy,” said Sophie. “But I can’t take all the credit. I had a little inspiration from a friend.” She looked over Agatha’s shoulder. Agatha turned—

“Reaper!” she said.

Her cat glided towards her on a blue-velvet pillow, hoisted by two gnomes. Reaper bowed his head to Agatha, his crown slipping over his bald, shriveled ears. “The gnomes care little about the human world. But they do care about their king,” he said. “So when I found out you and your friends were in danger . . . they were willing to leave the comforts of Gnomeland to follow that king into battle.” Agatha plucked him off the pillow and hugged him tight. Reaper scowled: “When in the presence of my subjects, I’d prefer a more distant approach.” “When in the presence of my cat, I know nothing but love,” said Agatha, squeezing him harder. “I thought you could only talk to humans if you were under a spell.” “Turns out learning man’s language isn’t difficult,” said Reaper, “given its dim-witted constructions and lack of finesse.” Brone poked his doughy head in from the back room: “If anyone wants real food, Merlin’s hat is cooking!” All at once, students ganged towards him, the gnomes content with their candy, while Reaper took advantage of the hubbub to hop from Agatha’s arms and scamper away.

“Might as well be well-fed when the Snake comes,” Sophie said, dragging Agatha ahead.

Agatha pinched her arm playfully. “I really do like this new Sophie who eats honeycake, is the queen of candy, and makes feasting a priority while in the throes of danger.” “You know how one day you woke up and discovered boys aren’t the toxic poison you thought they were? Well, boys and cake have a lot in common, it turns out,” Sophie said with a wink.

Agatha let go of her hand. “Sophie . . . is everything okay? When I saw you in the fireflies, you looked . . .” Her best friend’s smile evaporated. She avoided Agatha’s eyes and whistled at Tedros: “Teddy, sweetie, what are you waiting for? When have you ever turned down a meal?” But the prince stayed in place, fluttering his hand back as if to say he’d be along soon, before he was cornered by first-year girls, Valentina and Laralisa and Priyanka, asking obsequious questions about his time at school (“Which bed was yours in Honor 52?” “What was your favorite thing to do in the Groom Room?”).

Agatha gave Sophie a look. “We should wait for him.”

“There will always be someone chasing after him, darling. He’s Tedros, for goodness’ sakes. But he’ll always love you,” Sophie said, pulling her into the living room. “Speaking of chasing, who’s that?” She ogled a tall, stylish boy laying out a banquet of plates on a wooden table.

“That’s Merlin,” said Agatha.

“I’ve lost my appetite,” Sophie sighed.

The living room was a hive of activity, bodies packed around snuggly calico chairs and shuffling along the fluffy red-brown rug towards a colorful spread—kale pakoras, spice-baked root vegetables, crispy-fried mushrooms with garlic chutney, pasta Provençale, beet-glazed radishes, squash and okra curry, fava beans with sungold tomatoes, cinnamon-coconut rice, and chocolate-dipped churros—as if Merlin’s hat was determined to make its young ward and all his fellow teenagers eat their vegetables.

Meanwhile, between bites of churros, Ravan and Vex were comparing iron pokers from the sooty fireplace, looking for the best weapon to ambush the Snake. So, too, were Bossam and Devan and other first-year boys searching the kitchen for knives that might work as daggers. Near the boys, Agatha spotted Beatrix, Kiko, and Reena in Knights of Eleven armor, boiling up a big pot of oil— “You’re here!” Agatha said, racing in.

“After Shazabah, Maid Marian took some of us to Sherwood Forest,” said Beatrix, accelerating the boil with her fingerglow. “Met this witch doctor, who had a crystal ball.” “Showed us you were headed this way, so we came as fast as we could,” said Reena.

“Got here last night,” Kiko added, giving Agatha a sleepless frown. “The beds are made for dwarves.” Agatha stood straighter. “Wait, if you went with Maid Marian, then that means you were with—” “Hello, dears,” a voice chimed.

Everyone turned to see Dot swanning down a small staircase, a round-faced, young teenager once more, munching on a plate full of vegetables turned to chocolate.

“Think I’m going to be a witch doctor when I grow up,” Dot beamed.

Near Agatha, Hester growled: “Just when I was getting used to hausfrau Dot.” “At least that one moped instead of talked,” Anadil agreed.

But Dot was already hugging and kissing them both, her two witch friends squirming and gagging, but doing nothing to free themselves.

“Marian’s still with you?” Hester asked.

“She and Nicola went to help Queen Jacinda in Jaunt Jolie,” said Dot. “The old knights turned against Jacinda after we replaced them. Staged a coup and tried to take over the castle. So much for being loyal to their queen! Never seen Marian so determined to put men in their place. Perhaps she wants history to remember her as more than the damsel of thieves and sheriffs.” Dot winked. “Her daughter too.” Hester and Agatha gaped at each other.

“Oh, don’t give her too much credit for figuring it out,” Anadil moaned. “Wasn’t like she solved the riddle of the sphinx.” “Means I’m half-Ever, though,” Dot said, looking tense. “Not exactly a witch.” She eyed Hester and Anadil nervously, as if she might be expelled from the coven.

“Well . . . ,” said Hester. “Nobody’s perfect.”

Willam came up behind the witches: “Want to stake out upstairs with us? We can dive-bomb the Snake once he comes in.” “My idea that Will’s taking credit for,” Bogden chirped.

Agatha smiled, watching the witches and boys go upstairs, so much love amongst them that Agatha nearly forgot her own true love’s head was at risk and his enemy on the way here. She turned to look for Tedros— Sophie intercepted her, nibbling on churros. “You know how Merlin always smelled a little like an old sweater left in a trunk too long? The younger Merlin doesn’t smell like that at all. Not that he seemed thrilled to see me. But you know I love a challenge. Grrr. Agatha, are you really not eating? Do I have to make a plate for you?” There was something in her tone, manic and forced, that bothered Agatha. It reminded her of the old Sophie. The performer. The actress. That’s when it dawned on her. “Sophie?” said Agatha, looking at her friend. “Where’s Hort?” The facade cracked. Pain spilled through, tears rushing to Sophie’s eyes. Agatha lost her breath, her hand flying to her mouth— Two horns clashed outside, urgent and badly played.

“That’s the signal!” Sophie gasped, forcing composure. She spun on her heel. “Places, everyone! He’s coming! Snake’s coming!” Everyone sprung into motion like guests at a demented surprise party, toting makeshift weapons: chairs and cutlery and porcelain dinner plates. Quickly, Agatha peeked through the window shutters. In front of the rock-candy gates, she glimpsed Bodhi and Laithan tooting gnome-sized trumpets as a crowd of thousands swarmed towards Chateau Sugar East: soldiers from other kingdoms, citizens from Foxwood chanting “Lion! Lion!,” along with a phalanx of gold-shielded Camelot soldiers, and at the fore of them all, a boy in blue and gold, atop a white horse. Agatha snapped the shutters and whirled around, scanning for Tedros. But Sophie shoved her down behind a couch, the Sugar Queen morphing back into her red veil, directing her own army through the house.

“Everyone hide! Out of sight! And complete silence from here on out!” she commanded. “Once he knocks, I’ll let the bastard in. Then attack!” The house plunged to an anxious hush, every last body stuffed behind a wall or chair or chaise or stashed in the kitchen or upstairs, leaving only Sophie standing in the middle of the living room. Agatha scrambled back up, grabbing Sophie’s arm— “Hide, you goose!” Sophie hissed, burying her friend in a gaggle of gnomes, who were armed with jagged pieces of candy. But Agatha clung to Sophie’s wrist.

“Where’s Tedros?” she pressed.

“Hiding quietly, like you should be!” Sophie said. She wrenched free of Agatha, sweeping towards the foyer in blood-colored silk— Sophie stopped cold.

“Teddy?” she breathed.

Agatha leapt up.

He was at the door.

His hand on the knob.

Tedros gazed at Agatha.

“Remember your promise,” he said.

Sophie’s eyes shot to her friend: “What promise?”

Tedros had already opened the door.

Sophie and Agatha both dashed for him, stumbling through the mess of candy, Sophie throwing off her veil, Agatha hurtling into the sun first. “Tedros, no!” she cried— Her prince stood unarmed at the gates, a thousand swords and arrows and spears pointed at him.

The white horse cantered to within a few feet of him, the forest falling quiet as Japeth dismounted, still disguised as his dead brother.

The Snake stared at Sophie and Agatha, frozen at the door to the house.

His focus lowered to the prince.

“One turn at the sword each,” Tedros declared. “Excalibur decides the king.” The prince reached his hand through the gate.

For a moment, his enemy said nothing.

They just looked at each other, two rivals for a throne.

Truth against Lies. Present against Past. Pen against Man.

All the Woods held its breath.

The Snake’s eyes glittered.

“Excalibur decides the king,” he said.

He took Tedros’ hand.

The deal done.

Arthur’s son and Rafal’s.

Agatha’s legs buckled, Sophie there to catch her, asking again and again in scared whispers what Agatha had promised him, what vow she’d given, but all Agatha could remember was the last time she touched her prince, somewhere in the dark, lost in the smell of bad candy.