“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?”