فصل 10

10

NICOLA

The Perks of Being a Reader

Sophie might be a Dean, but that didn’t mean Nicola had respect for the girl or would join her ranks of fawning students.

For one thing, she’d met Sophie back when they lived in Gavaldon, but Sophie was acting as if she’d never seen Nicola in her life. For another, Nicola had read The Tale of Sophie and Agatha and thought Sophie was a class-A brat. And then on Nicola’s first day, Sophie had blamed her for caving in a classroom when it wasn’t her fault at all!

For these reasons (and more), she’d been giving Sophie hostile looks ever since she got to school two weeks ago and Sophie had been giving them right back.

So imagine Nicola’s surprise when it was Sophie herself who barged into her room tonight and dragged her onto this boat, helped by Hester, Dot, and Anadil, three witches she’d only seen in a storybook.

No one told her why. They’d just acted like she was their prisoner and gave her thirty seconds to pack before they flung her aboard and dumped her in the worst room. She didn’t even know who else was on the crew, since no one had bothered to come check on her once they’d set sail.

It hurt her feelings, to be honest. Hester was one of her favorite characters in The Tale of Sophie and Agatha and being treated like a stray dog by your favorite characters is worse than never meeting them at all. Even Dot, who seemed so jolly and sweet on the page, hadn’t managed a proper “hello.” I should have known, she thought. Girls like me are always left out of fairy tales.

Nicola steeled herself. Well, if this crew couldn’t show her the most basic manners, then she wasn’t going to make an effort either. Instead, she would handle them the way she’d handled rude customers at Pa’s pub in Gavaldon: with grace, dignity, and pity for their poor souls.

Thunder blasted outside and a slash of lightning lit up her window.

Nicola unpacked her toothbrush, soap, and comb in her tiny bathroom. The boat had been swerving and lurching through this storm for the past hour.

Whoever was steering had no idea what they were doing.

“Man the sails!” Agatha cried, soaked to the bone as she gripped the captain’s wheel— Nicola snuck closer to the galley door so she could peer through the crack and survey the whole deck.

Lightning ripped through a sail and the Igraine lurched off-course, rain flooding over the rails. The storm had exploded only a few hours after they left, caging them into whirling winds they couldn’t escape. Hester and the witches were siphoning water off the deck using their fingerglows— “Lady of the Lake controls these waters! Should be giving us easy passage!” Hester was shouting at Anadil and Dot.

Meanwhile, Nicola’s classmate Bogden was clutching a red-haired boy as he puked overboard; Sophie was crawling on all fours up the deck; and another boy was batting down the hatches, which kept coming loose— Hort! Nicola gasped, recognizing him. Her whole body went hot. . . .

Wind slammed against the boat, spinning it like a pinwheel, knocking Sophie into a railing. The broken sail flapped over her, lashing against the mast. A huge shard of wood snapped under the rogue sail and came shearing down, about to spear the deck— Instantly, Dot turned the shard to chocolate chips, which scattered into the rain. Hester’s demon flew off her neck and hoisted up the heavy sail; Anadil’s three rats secured its ropes (all the while catching chocolate in their mouths).

“What did I . . . say . . . about . . . boats!” Sophie mewled, makeup smeared, soggy hair caught around her neck like a noose. Blown side to side, she scooted on her stomach up the steps to the captain’s level— “The wind is sending us everywhere but Avalon,” Agatha growled, wrangling the wheel. “We should be there by now!” “You said the ship listens to you!” Sophie squawked behind her.

“The ship, not the weather! The faster I tell it to go, the more the wind hits us!” Sophie lunged off the top step and grabbed hold of Agatha’s ankle. “Isn’t it a magic ship? Make it fly or turn invisible!” “What good is being invisible in a storm! Or flying higher into it!” Agatha said, squinting into the rain. “We must be fifty miles off-course!” There were clearer skies to the east, which would give them a chance to regroup. She just needed to steer the boat out of this wind-cage— “SAIL EAST!” she shouted at the wheel.

The Igraine bounded eastwards but bashed into headwinds, making it swing back and forth like one of those sickening pirate-ship rides at the Gavaldon Fair. Sophie lost grip of Agatha’s shoe and went rolling down the stairs.

“AGATHA!” she shrieked, hanging off the staircase banister.

Hort ran to save her, but tripped and plunged down a hatch. Bogden was now retching alongside the red-haired boy, while the witches tumbled across the deck like marbles. As the ship bobbed, water surged over the rail. The Igraine started to sink— “Mind if I help?” a voice said behind Agatha.

Agatha turned to see a short, buxom black girl her age leaning against a rail, arms folded. She had a catlike face with thin eyes and sloping brows, along with springy black curls immune to the rain and a pink first-year’s Ever uniform at odds with her cold expression.

“Nicola?” Agatha said, shouting over the storm. “That’s your name, isn’t it?” “And yours is Agatha, though the Agatha I’ve read about would have come and said hello so maybe that’s not your name after all,” Nicola replied. Agatha winced, but Nicola didn’t give her a chance to respond. “Steer like it’s a riptide. The wheel’s spinning left because you’re trying to go right. If you want to go right, turn the ship left.” “AGGIE! HELP!” Sophie howled below, a seagull on her head.

Nicola narrowed her eyes. “Seagulls love the smell of hot decay. Wonder what that says about your friend.” She turned to find Agatha gaping at her.

“I just told you how to get us out of this storm,” Nicola said.

Agatha shook her head. “Sailing in the opposite direction doesn’t make sense—” Nicola glared harder. “Listen, I may be a first-year Reader who no one on this boat cares about, but that also means I’ve read your fairy tale and know you’re a smart girl. Smart enough to realize you’ve been trying to get us out of this storm for the past hour and have instead put us on the verge of a very watery death.” Another tidal wave detonated onto the deck, drenching Agatha.

“One more and we’ll get to see who can hold their breath the longest,” said Nicola.

Agatha swiveled towards the wheel. “SAIL WEST!” she commanded—

The Igraine pivoted smoothly to the west for just a moment. Then the current took over, counterposing the ship east. The wooden girl on the masthead swept her lantern towards the dawn-lit clearing. In a single move, the boat broke free of the wind-trap and glided towards Avalon.

Sophie dropped like a stone to the deck, her gown blown over her head like a broken umbrella. The rest of the crew peeked up, no longer thrashing or scrambling or retching. All of their eyes honed in on the new girl, who’d just saved their necks.

Sophie was the only one who didn’t smile at her.

Nicola sauntered towards the galley in her sheepskin boots. “Is breakfast ready? Or should I take care of that too?” “Wait! If you’re a Reader, how’d you know how to do that!” Agatha called out behind her.

“The same way I know everything,” the girl replied, without breaking stride. “I read.” “If you’re from Gavaldon, how did we never meet?” quizzed Agatha.

“Didn’t I see you in a Never’s uniform the first day of school?” asked Hort, spooning his oatmeal.

“Why did the Storian write you into our crew?” said Willam.

“Do you even know what a fourth-year quest is?” asked Hester.

Sitting across the galley dining table painted with Camelot’s crest, Nicola picked at a soggy tower of egg and cheese. “The real question is why an enchanted pot can’t make an omelet when I was making them at six years old.” “Think Dovey gave us a broken pot,” Bogden said, snacking on potato skins. “I asked for pancakes and it made these instead.” “Broken pot, broken map . . . Dovey’s house certainly isn’t in order,” Dot murmured.

Nicola was midbite when she saw the ragtag Inquisition still gawking at her. “Oh, so I’ve been on this boat for hours and now I exist?” (“BOOBESHWAR!” Sophie screeched from her cabin.)

Nicola’s lips tightened. “Well, let me answer your questions, then. Agatha, we never met in Gavaldon because you spent your time on Graves Hill and I spent mine at Papa Pipp’s Pub, helping my father cook for his customers. I knew your mother, though, since she treated Pa for his bad back. As for your friend, Sophie, she met me a few times in Gavaldon, but she doesn’t seem to remember, since girls like her only notice you if you’re useful or a threat.” Nicola turned to Willam. “I haven’t the faintest clue why the Storian put me on your crew, though from what I can tell, maybe it’s to keep you all alive.” Nicola turned to Hort, blushing hard. “As for why I’m now in an Ever’s uniform, that’s a long story. But I’ve read The Tale of Sophie and Agatha and you’re a lot more handsome in person than on the page—except to be honest, I’d prefer the old you before you buffed up to look like Tedros, who’s about as enticing as vanilla pudding. But even if you’re deluded about your own self-image and are hooked on blond, skinny girls, the fact I’m talking to the real Hort instead of reading about you is the only nice part of being on this boat. Especially since you didn’t answer any of my letters.” Hort dropped his spoon.

Nicola turned to Hester. “What do I know? I know we’re on a quest to find out why your classmates’ quests are failing and prevent any more from dying. I know that the Storian says a ‘Snake’ has made its way into the Woods and is determined to take down a ‘Lion.’ And I know only Agatha seems to know what those words mean. Which is why I’m curious as to why everyone is asking me questions instead of her.” Everyone stared at Nicola.

“Oh, this little fella told me everything,” Nicola explained, as Boobeshwar hopped from her lap, where he’d been hidden, and perched on her shoulder. “Mongooses are chatty if you rub their heads. Learned that from reading The Brave Maharajah.” She zeroed in on Agatha. “But enough about me. Since this is now a quest that belongs to us all, I think it’s time you told us what you know about lions and snakes.” Everyone turned to Agatha.

“There you are, Boobeshwar!” a voice rang out.

Sophie paraded in wearing a crystal-studded blue-and-white sailor’s dress and towering heels. “Sorry, I needed to freshen up and—” She tripped over a mound of weapons they’d taken from school: swords, daggers, axes, spears. “Hort, for heaven’s sakes, put these somewhere else. Can’t have warmongering in the kitchen. Shall we start breakfast? I’m famish—” Sophie bit her lip.

The crew was already eating.

And no one was even glancing in her direction, including Hort, who was ogling Nicola as if she’d shot an arrow through his heart.

Sophie cleared her throat. “Surely it’s proper form to wait for a Dean before—” Nicola whirled and shot her a withering look, Sophie’s mongoose on her shoulder. Then she turned back to Agatha.

“You were saying, Captain?”

Nicola wasn’t supposed to be here. Not on this ship, not at this school, not in the Woods. She should be in Gavaldon right now, working at the pub with Pa.

But her two older brothers, Gus and Gagan, had thrown a wrench in all that.

They wanted Papa Pipp’s Pub for themselves, but Pa had no intention of leaving his legacy to two boys who would sell the place off the second he died. Instead, he decreed that Nicola would inherit the pub. With her in charge, Gus and Gagan could be kept at bay, continuing to pass plates and scrub pots to make a wage for the rest of their lives. (To make matters worse, Nicola beat them at every sport they played.) Day after day, her brothers wished: If only she wasn’t around.

Then one day they made their wish come true.

When Nicola was younger, the whole town was petrified of the School for Good and Evil. Every four years, two children were kidnapped from Gavaldon—the best-behaved kid for Good, the worst-behaved kid for Evil—and neither would ever see their family or friends again. Instead, they’d disappear into the Woods and reappear years later in illustrated tales that magically arrived at Mr. Deauville’s Storybook Shop. Any child not taken would sigh with relief, knowing they were safe for four more years.

But that was before Sophie and Agatha.

Now a school of horrors had become every child’s dream.

Statues of scenes from Sophie and Agatha’s tale were built all over Gavaldon. Thousands of fan letters were left at these monuments, along with pleas to be kidnapped and taken to the school. For Halloween, children dressed as Sophie (pink dresses, blond wigs), Agatha (black sack dresses), and Tedros (no shirt, a sword). At Gavaldon Primary School, teachers used The Tale of Sophie and Agatha to explain everything from grammar (“Is ‘stymph’ a noun or proper noun?”) to math (“If there are 10 kids from each school in the Trial by Tale and 6 kids die during it, how many make it out alive?”) The annual Gavaldon Fair became a School for Good and Evil theme park, with a Wish Fish Fortune-Telling Pool, Flowerground Roller Coaster, Trial by Tale Corn Maze, Princess Uma’s Animal Merry-Go-Round, and Halfway Bay Wave Pool.

But it wasn’t just children who were captivated by Sophie and Agatha. Stefan, Sophie’s father, had become the most popular man in Gavaldon after the girls’ tale revealed the Elders to be corrupt villains. Soon, the Council was replaced by a Mayor’s Office, to which Stefan was elected by unanimous vote. Stefan’s first act as Mayor was to tack a note for his daughter on his door demanding that a) she and Agatha visit home immediately and b) to satisfy Gavaldon’s clamoring children, the School should start accepting applications from Readers, provided new students could return home on holidays to see their families.

Nothing came of the first request.

But a week later, the citizens of Gavaldon woke to a proclamation on their doors, announcing open applications to the School for Good and Evil, which would now host a new class of Evers and Nevers each year, beginning in August, instead of every four years. In addition, each household received a shiny new copy of The Ever Never Handbook, a guide to the School for Good and Evil with rules, classes, uniforms, and most importantly, formal applications to the school itself, with questions such as: If you were marooned on a deserted island, what three things would you like to have? and If I were an animal, I’d like to be a . . . Children eagerly filled out these forms and left them in sealed envelopes near the girls’ statues, the envelopes piling up week after week like parchment mountains . . . until one night all the applications magically disappeared.

Nicola had been tempted to apply, of course. She’d read thousands of storybooks and knew she was smarter and stronger than any of the Readers that had been taken before.

Who needs Agatha and Sophie when they can have me? she’d thought. Those girls had made for a lively story, but their tale was over. It was time for a new hero.

And yet, as much as she wanted it to be her . . . it couldn’t be.

She had an aging Pa to care for, customers to manage, and a business to run. If she left, everything her father had worked for—and his father and his father and his father—would be wasted by her brothers.

So it was a complete shock when two weeks ago, in the middle of a hot August night, she was magically sucked out of her bed, flung onto a bony bird, whisked on a harrowing ride through a dark forest, and dropped into the School for Evil’s sludgy moat with more than a hundred villainous Nevers-to-be.

Her stupid, no-good, nasty brothers! Gus and Gagan must have filled out an application under her name. But there was no time to stew about it. The wolves were already whipping children onto shore. . . .

She had to get home. Pa was surely worried sick. But as she was shoved into a saggy black uniform and thrust books and a schedule, Nicola felt a sense of déjà vu. She’d read The Tale of Sophie and Agatha so many times that she couldn’t help but enjoy being in this world she knew so much about.

Staying one day wouldn’t hurt, would it? she wondered. If she stayed, she could explore places she’d only known in a book . . . participate in challenges she already knew how to beat . . . Imagine: she might even get a glimpse of beautiful, perfect Hort. . . .

But she never got the chance.

Evil didn’t want her.

The dorm locked her out; hallways ejected her into the bay; doors slammed in her face and spellbooks on her hand. Everywhere she went the castle rebelled, until rooms started caving in the moment she entered. She had no idea why any of this was happening, yet Dean Sophie held her personally responsible for the mess and marched her across the bridge to Professor Dovey in the School for Good. But seeing the chaos Nicola had caused in Evil’s castle, Dovey didn’t want her either. She told Sophie that since Nicola had been delivered to Evil’s door, she was Sophie’s problem.

So there was nothing Dean Sophie could do except drag Nicola back across the bridge, grumbling about Readers and the burdens of being a Dean and why she’d been sentimental enough to listen to her father’s idea of accepting Readers in the first place. . . .

That’s when Nicola smashed into the invisible barrier.

The bridge had let her go from Evil to Good but wouldn’t let her go from Good to Evil. She was trapped, no matter how much she tried to ram through. And unlike Evil, the Good towers had no allergy to her, welcoming Nicola without a tremor.

So the decision was made for her.

She would spend the next few months as an Ever. At Christmas, she’d go back home with the other Readers and would stay with Pa forever, while the rest returned to school.

But until then . . . Nicola would wear pink.

“The Lion and the Snake is a fairy tale,” said Agatha, sipping ginger tea.

“Not one I’ve heard of,” said Nicola as she cleared the breakfast plates.

“Nor I,” said Hort, magically erasing stains off the Camelot crest on the table.

“Nor I,” chorused Bogden and Willam as they washed salt off portholes.

“Nor I,” said Hester as the witches took dishes from Nicola and cleaned them with their fingerglows.

“Well, I’ve certainly heard of it,” Sophie preened, cozying up to Agatha.

“No, you haven’t,” Agatha snapped to Nicola’s delight. “No one here knows The Lion and the Snake because it’s a fairy tale about Camelot and one mainly told inside its walls. I read it out loud to spoiled children yesterday to raise money for our broken drawbridge.” “How plebeian,” murmured Sophie.

Says a girl whose father worked at the mill, Nicola thought, rolling her eyes.

“Apparently it’s the only story that every child in Camelot knows,” Agatha was saying. “Luckily, when you read a story out loud, you remember most of it. It went something like this.” She raised her glowing finger and tendrils of gold magically streamed from its tip, dispersing like threads over Nicola’s head. . . .

“Once upon a time, a beautiful new kingdom appeared at the edge of the sea,” said Agatha. “Only it had no king.” The golden threads morphed into majestic spires with rounded turrets. . . .

“Every kingdom must have a king, so it waited for someone to take the throne. But to be king requires strength and cleverness, values rarely found in the same being. In the end, only two came forward to claim the crown. The Lion. And the Snake.” Each of the two rivals appeared out of Agatha’s glow, striking and slashing at each other.

“No one knew how to decide between them, so a vote was held. Those who believed the new kingdom should be ruled with strength chose the Lion. Those who believed the new kingdom should be ruled with cleverness chose the Snake. Both drew an equal number of votes, the kingdom in perfect balance.” Between the Lion and the Snake, a third glowing outline appeared. . . .

“And so the Eagle was brought in to make the final choice, since he flew high above and saw the world in a way no one else could. The Eagle asked each rival a single question: ‘If you were king, would the Eagle be subject to your rule?’ “The Lion said yes. As long as the Eagle flew over his kingdom, he would receive his protection, but also be bound by his rule. The Snake said no. If he were king, the Eagle would be as free as he was before.” Slowly, the Lion’s phantom disappeared.

“So the Eagle chose the Snake.”

In a flash of glow, an army of hooded snakes descended on the Eagle— “That night, without protection, the eagles were attacked. The Snake and his minions hid in the trees, decimating the eagles before the Lion and his friends came to their rescue. Soon, the Lion caught the murderous Snake. As he prepared to kill it, however, the Snake warned him. . . .” The glowing serpent now had a voice:

“You dare not kill a king. The Eagle chossssse me because he wanted freedom. He got that freedom. What happened after doesn’t change the Truth. The throne is mine. I am your king. Just because you do not like the Truth does not mean you can replacccce it with a Lie. And if you kill me, your new king will be a Lie. Kill me and I ssssshall return to take my crown. . . .” The Lion paused, glowing brighter, seemingly taking this in. . . .

Then it tore apart the Snake.

“The Snake’s warning was ignored. The Lion became King of Camelot and defender of all creatures. And to atone for his earlier mistake in choosing the Snake, the Eagle became the Lion’s loyal advisor from that day forward, defending the realm in case the Snake should ever return.” The shadows dissolved as Agatha’s fingerglow cooled.

“And that’s how the kingdom of Camelot came to be,” Agatha finished.

Nicola followed Agatha’s eyes to the Camelot crest painted on the table: Excalibur, flanked by two eagles.

Only as she looked closer at the famous crest, Nicola saw something she hadn’t seen before. . . .

The eagles had the bodies of lions.

“Wouldn’t have ever thought of it again but clearly the Storian wants us to,” said Agatha. “The pen said the Snake has come to take down the Lion—” “Which means the Lion is the King of Camelot,” Sophie proclaimed proudly.

Duh, thought Nicola.

“And the Snake wants his crown back,” said Sophie. “And to take down the king.” Duhhhhh, Nicola scowled, seeing Agatha grow increasingly anxious.

“Tedros is definitely the Lion,” said Sophie.

“Yes, we know,” said Nicola impatiently. “What we don’t know is: Who is the Snake? And how do we catch him before he gets to Tedros?” “There’s another question. And it’s the reason we’re going to Avalon first,” said Agatha, meeting Nicola’s eyes. “If the Lion is Tedros and the Snake wants to take him down . . . then why hasn’t he gone after Tedros already? Why is he going after Tedros’ friends?” This time, even Nicola was quiet.

Standing at the captain’s wheel, Nicola gazed out at the pink-and-gold sky, thin clouds knitted across it like snake scales. Agatha had gone to take a brief nap after commanding the Igraine to forge southeast and leaving Nicola on watch. But it’d been smooth sailing for the past few hours and Nicola was about to fall asleep too. Even Sophie’s mad mongoose had passed out, curled luxuriously around her ankle.

Perhaps I should wake Agatha, Nicola thought.

But the girl had sailed all night from Camelot, and from what the mongoose had told her, Agatha and Tedros had been having a rough time. Plus, Agatha had asked her to watch the ship—not Hester, not Anadil, not Willam—and Nicola felt honored. The other crew silently nodded when Agatha had made this decision, as if the first year had already earned her place.

Just like that, Nicola’s bitterness about being on this boat was gone. Part of this was getting to meet Hort, of course. He’d even smiled at her in the galley. Maybe my letters didn’t put him off after all. . . .

Suddenly she wasn’t tired anymore. She could sleep for the rest of her life when she made it back home.

If she made it back, that is.

In a fairy tale, someone always dies so the others can live, she worried, thinking of Tristan, Nicholas, Cinderella, and others brutally killed in the last fairy tale that the Storian wrote. Is that why the pen added her to this story? To sacrifice her?

No way. She wasn’t going to die here. No matter what the Storian had planned, she’d get back home to Pa and they’d celebrate Christmas together. If only she could let him know she was safe in the meantime. Then she could make the most of her stay here without worry or guilt. But how to get a letter to Gavaldon? Sophie would know, wouldn’t she. . . . The one person she didn’t want to ask for favors.

A flash of gold caught her attention and Nicola leaned over the wheel to see a chain hanging off it, carrying a small gold vial.

The Quest Map.

She’d seen Agatha and Sophie examining it earlier. Sophie had said something about Dovey fixing the map so it tracked quests accurately, before Agatha had borrowed it from Sophie to study it closer. She must have left the necklace here when she’d gone to nap. . . .

Nicola glanced back towards the galley. Through the windows, she could see Willam and Bogden huddling over what looked like tarot cards, while the three witches were still in a secret meeting about how to find a School Master on this quest (she’d eavesdropped in the bathroom). No one was on the deck with her. And no one could see her if she inched behind one of the masts. . . .

Remembering how Sophie and Agatha conjured the Quest Map, Nicola emptied the vial and watched the liquid gold suspend and congeal. Leaning into the map, she peered at a three-dimensional toy ship sailing towards Avalon, with Hester’s, Agatha’s, Sophie’s, Anadil’s, Hort’s, and Dot’s figurines aboard. There wasn’t one for Willam since he wasn’t a student, but there was one for Bogden and one for her, complete with a pink Ever’s dress and curly black hair. The crew’s names were bright blue, unlike the names in red scattered around the map. Was the Snake tampering with these red-lettered quests? And hadn’t the mongoose mentioned something about unrest in the kingdoms? Did the Snake have something to do with that too?

The answers were waiting in Avalon.

Instead of feeling scared, Nicola felt charged. There was danger ahead. But the idea that she was in a realm of adventure and magic and might meet more characters like Kiko, Merlin, or Guinevere . . . Her chest thumped faster. She wasn’t just some observer anymore, reading a book while she stirred chowder at the pub. She was inside the book. And unlike other stories she’d read, this time she’d only find the ending by living through it.

Nicola’s eyes shifted back to the toy Igraine, gliding across the map. It was millimeters away from Avalon. If the map was right, she would sight land any moment.

“Barely a first year and they’ve made you Captain,” a voice said behind her.

Nicola’s stomach dropped. Hort!

She turned. “Barely a fourth year and they made you a professor,” she said, acting nonchalant.

“It could be worse. I was supposed to teach Evers too,” said Hort. “But Professor Dovey put a stop to that.” He was in short black breeches, high black socks, and a long-sleeved white cotton shirt, the laces untied to reveal his muscular chest. His cheeks had a rosy glow as if he’d just scrubbed them and his black hair was wet and spiky. He smelled like clean laundry, which surprised her—from reading about him, she assumed he’d smell like wet rat or dead flowers. But instead, he smelled lovely . . . so either books got things wrong or Hort had cleaned up to talk to her. Both ideas were alarming.

“You’re looking at me funny,” said Hort.

“Oh, uh—” Nicola turned from him and collided loudly with the Quest Map, waking up Boobeshwar, who darted around as if he’d been fired out of a cannon. “Um, you had a fly in your hair. Shouldn’t you be checking on Sophie?” “Shouldn’t you be giving her back her Quest Map?” said Hort.

“I found it like this,” said Nicola.

“Spoken like a first year.”

“Yet the Storian wrote me into this quest and not you,” said Nicola.

“A feisty first year,” said Hort.

“You have no idea,” said Nicola.

Hort raised his brows.

Nicola stared into his beautiful, velvet-brown eyes.

“I would have answered your letters,” said Hort.

“You read them? For real?” Nicola asked.

“Yeah, but I thought they were pranks.”

“Oh.”

“I liked them, though.”

“Everything you just said . . . you could have written back to me,” said Nicola.

Hort blinked at her. “You’re not much of an Ever.”

“Because I don’t look like a princess?” Nicola asked, hurt. “I mean, I know they all look a certain way—” “Because you’re better than a princess,” said Hort, moving closer to her. “And that uniform.” Nicola turned the color of her dress. “Well, seeing this is the only outfit I own at the moment and that I’m not going to be in the Woods very long . . .” Hort cocked his head.

“I need to get home to my father,” Nicola explained, wishing she could lay her head on his shoulder. “Even if I wanted to stay . . . even if I had good reason . . .” “Your dad comes first,” said Hort definitively.

Nicola sighed. He understands. Not just because Hort was a sensitive soul, but because from what Nicola had read, he’d been close to his dad too.

“Is it weird meeting people you’ve read about?” he asked, as if sensing her thoughts. “Do you feel like you know me because you’ve read about me?” Nicola gazed at him. “I thought I did.”

Hort went quiet for a moment.

Then he said: “I don’t only like blond, skinny girls, you know.” Nicola’s legs turned to jelly.

“That’s not for a student’s eyes,” a voice said—

Sophie cut between Nicola and Hort, instantly shrinking the Quest Map into the vial and clasping it around her own neck. “Agatha should be more careful leaving a Dean’s property around. Hort, will you go wake her up?” “Actually, me and Nicola were—”

“Thank you, darling,” Sophie said, giving him a peck on the cheek. “Hurry off now.” Hort frowned and walked towards the galley, touching his kissed cheek. “Whole world’s gone mad . . . ,” Nicola heard him murmur.

“I feel like we’ve started badly, Nicola,” said Sophie, facing her. “We’re going to have to work together and right now you and I are . . .” Sophie stopped because her mongoose had hopped onto Nicola’s shoulder. Sophie glared at him slit-eyed. “I don’t know whether it’s because you’ve read stories about me or because you keep insisting that we’ve met before—” “We have met,” Nicola said. “You wrote a review of my father’s pub in the town paper and said ‘if the nut crumble is any indication, it’s time Gavaldon moved on to more sophisticated cuisine.’” Sophie waved dismissively. “Well, I’m sorry if I insulted your father’s nuts—” “It was my nut crumble,” said Nicola. “I made it.”

“And had I known that, I would have said it was delightful,” Sophie chimed. “In any case, you can return home as soon as our quest is finished and you’ll bake all the crumbles you like. But until then, I really do want us to be friends.” Nicola was stupefied. Whenever she’d read about Sophie, she’d always been frustrated that no one in the story stood up to her. But here she was in front of the girl, who was brazenly insulting her to her face, and all she could do was laugh.

“See, that’s better,” Sophie cooed cozily. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed that Professor Hort’s taken a liking to you. You two seem to be quite fond of each other. Naughty girl.” “Well, if you’re not interested in him, I certainly am,” said Nicola.

“I see,” Sophie chuckled. Then like a switch had flipped, her face clouded over. “See, that’s the thing. To say something like that, and to a Dean no less, is highly inappropriate. Hort is a teacher and you are a student. It doesn’t matter that he’s hardly older than you and is as much of a ‘teacher’ as I am a horned troll. Anyone knows teachers can’t be chummy with students. Besides, Hort already chose his true love long ago and it’s not like she’s going anywhere, is she? So if I were you, I’d focus on helping us complete our quest and getting home to your dear father as soon as you can.” Nicola felt as if she’d been slapped.

Sophie was already walking away. “Come, Boobeshwar. Mother has fresh nuts for you. . . .” This time the mongoose followed, its loyalty easily bought.

Nicola watched them go, flurrying with emotions. For one thing, she knew from reading that the girl was a master manipulator. And yet, as much as she hated to admit it, Sophie was right: Nicola couldn’t stay in this world much longer, even if she wanted to . . . so despite the fact her dreamy fantasy hunk had just flirted with her, keeping her distance from Hort seemed both prudent and practical. . . .

But there were bigger things to worry about right now. Because through the darkening sky, she heard the shriek of birds and saw the outline of tall, gray cliffs. . . .

“Land ho!” she cried.

The galley door flung open and she heard the crew running onto the deck— Nicola turned to them, framed by the foaming spray of waves, like a captain in a storybook. “Man your stations! Avalon ahead!”