Sophie cackled so loud it woke Merlin up. “Oh, Hort. You really are a goon.”
“Better than a sad, soft boy,” Hort muttered.
“Why are those bad things?” Sophie came back, exasperated. “Why can’t a boy show his emotions? Why can’t a boy just be himself?”
“Because girls like you won’t go for us,” said Hort grimly.
“Have you considered that it’s because you are a real boy, in all your softness and sadness, that I am having this conversation with you to begin with?” Sophie asked. “I can have any handsome boy in the Woods, but they’re insufferable like Tedros or possessive like Rafal or maniacal like Rhian. But I had to learn that they wouldn’t make me happy, didn’t I? The same way you had to kiss Nicola to learn there was something missing. The same way I had to spend time with you again and again to learn that you weren’t creepy, useless Hort at all, but Hort who is open and true—and yes, sad and soft—but altogether, sweet, steadfast, and the strongest boy I know.”
Hort’s whole body seemed to blush. “Uh, so . . . what are you saying?”
Sophie crossed her arms. “What I am saying is . . . what I’m saying . . .” She looked up at Hort. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”
The two of them stared hard into each other’s eyes, the silence as thick and wide as an ocean. Agatha tipped over the cloud to get a better look—
Her shadow cast over Sophie, who glanced up. “Agatha, darling!”
Agatha toppled in surprise, crashing down and landing hard on Hort, kneeing him in the groin.
“Aggaaaain!” Hort wheezed. “The witch strikes agaaaain!”
“I’m assuming you’re the witch, this time,” Sophie said to Agatha.
Wails echoed above them.
Merlin, crying from atop the moon. “Naughty! Naughty!”
“Yes, Merlin, yes! Very naughty!” Sophie called out. “Go back to sleep!”
Merlin wailed harder.
“Strange,” said Agatha. “Never cried before. Puts himself to sleep and eats from his hat when he’s hungry—”
“Guys?” Hort said quietly.
The girls followed his eyes.
To the corner of the Celestium.
A tear had opened up in the purple canvas, a rip in the night. Stars tumbled out of the sky as the sky pulled apart, a shadow coming through.
Agatha smiled at the firm chest and lean silhouette, her heart surging. “Tedros . . .”
Then moonlight hit the shadow and Agatha stumbled back into Sophie’s arms.
Merlin cried harder, pointing at the sky. “Naughty! Naughty!”
Agatha choked on her scream.
Naughty.
Nottee.
Not Tee.
21
AGATHA
The Second Half of the Plan
“Impossible . . .” Sophie rasped to Agatha. “He’s not a wizard . . . He can’t be here . . .”
But he was here.
He was inside Merlin’s Celestium.
Japeth stared hard at Agatha, his face in shadow, the whites of his eyes glowing in the dark. He slithered through the tear in the sky and leapt down onto a cloud, landing in a crouch. Then he rose, his blue-and-gold suit rippling in the moonlight.
Slowly, his king’s suit melted pitch-black, the Snake returned, scims shrieking and sliding all over his body.
His eyes never left Tedros’ princess.
Sophie shielded her best friend. “Run. Now.”
Scims spiked for Agatha’s head and she and Sophie dove off the sides of the cloud, with Sophie crashing on a puff below. But there was no cloud for Agatha to land on; she tumbled into oblivion—
A red horn hooked through her collar, Hester’s demon slobbering in her face—“nogoodverybadday”—before it flung Agatha onto a thick cloud with its master. “Stay behind me,” Hester hissed, blocking her. “If you die, we all die.”
“Merlin!” Agatha pointed at the wizard, howling on the moon. “We have to get Merlin!”
Hester’s demon soared for the ball of cheese, snatching the six-year-old in its claws and flying him higher and higher. But the Snake had no interest in Merlin. He stayed locked on Agatha, his chest exposed where the scims had peeled off him.
Scims still on the loose.
She spun just in time—
They speared for Agatha’s face and she plunged into the center of her cloud, barely eluding them. She popped her head through, spitting out fluff. “Up there!” she said to Hester, pointing at the rip in the sky.
The scims circled around, angling for Agatha harder, faster. Hester yanked her back into the cloud—
“I’ll use that portal,” Agatha panted. “Scims will follow me out . . . All of you will be safe . . . I just need the magic carpet to get there . . .”
She peeked up, searching for Nightwind . . . then saw the carpet veer sharply, Beatrix, Kiko, and Nicola aboard to ambush the Snake, swords aimed at his open flesh—
Scims launched off Japeth’s shoulder and slammed into Nightwind, obliterating it to shreds, sending the girls scattering to clouds.
“Agatha, look out!” Sophie cried from below.
Eels whizzed upwards, nicking Agatha’s and Hester’s ears, before both girls dodged into the cloud, tunneling through fluff. They hit the end of the cloud, nearly plummeting over. Scims slashed down on either side of them, cutting holes into white. Agatha spied through one of these holes, tracking the cloud path to the gash in the sky. “I have to make a run for it . . .”
“You’ll be dead in a second!” Hester said. “You won’t make it one cloud!”
“Watch me,” Agatha steeled.
Like a gazelle, she sprung for the next one up—
Scims blasted for her; Agatha recoiled mid-jump, twisting awkwardly and flopping back onto Hester’s cloud, just missing the eels sizzling past her.
“Ho hum,” Hester growled.
Only now the Snake was the one moving, bounding across clouds, more scims rocketing off him for Agatha, this time from a closer distance, too fast to escape. Agatha shoved Hester aside, saving her friend, the scims about to run Agatha through—
Dean Brunhilde lunged in front of her, hacking eels with her sword. “In all my years, did my best to turn Evil into Good! Well, killing every last one of you sounds Good to me!” Gobs of black-and-green goo sprayed onto her armor, Dean Brunhilde axing them with vengeance.
Japeth seemed weakened, the patches of flesh on his chest and shoulder bruised and bloodied, vulnerable to attack. He charged Agatha and the Dean, hurdling cloud to cloud, only to see the Queen of Jaunt Jolie block his path, sword in hand.
“How did you fake a wizard’s blood, Your Highness?” she cooed. “Same way you faked a king’s, perhaps? Nice snakesuit, by the way. And here I thought King Rhian was the one who killed the Snake. So you must not be ‘Rhian’ at all.”
Agatha dashed to save her, but Dean Brunhilde grabbed her back.
“Proud of your cleverness, are you?” the Snake taunted Jacinda. “Your daughter was too. Almost told my secret to the Woods.” He stood tall, scims still protecting most of him. “Almost.”
“I need to help her,” Agatha fought, battling the Dean. “We need to help her—”