“Same way I got into all these chickens, of course,” a droll voice replied.
Sophie turned to the corner.
The two librarian goats parted, revealing a bald, wrinkled cat, pawing at a pile of bird heads.
“I acted like their friend,” he said.
Fireflies settled into a crown over his ears.
“Witch of Woods Beyond,” the cat greeted, yellow eyes twinkling.
“King Teapea,” Sophie breathed.
She held the thought of Hort close to her heart.
This time, there were no tears.
Instead, her eyes twinkled right back.
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.