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.