us doing good deeds. Emilio and I already got ours.”
“Our guests don’t need every detail of our lives, Arjun,” Emilio sighed, looking back at Hort and Nicola. “I’ll tell the Dean you came by.”
“We’ll wait for her outside,” said Hort, heading for the door, anxious to talk to his girlfriend alone—
Nicola yanked him back by his collar and Hort squawked. “Actually, we’ll wait for her here,” she said.
Hort looked at Nicola, confused.
Emilio frowned. “I’m not sure when she’ll be ba—”
“Oooh, they can help us make supper!” Arjun said excitedly. “Girls are good at cooking!”
Hort could see Nicola gritting her teeth.
“Arjun, that wouldn’t be appropriate,” said Emilio.
“But we never get company! Rest of the school thinks we’re Evil!” Arjun insisted, turning to Hort. “You know, cause we’re separate from ’em and live at the school instead of going home to our parents. But we know the truth: that we’re the best souls. That’s why our parents sent us to Dean Brunhilde for training—”
“Mind if I ask your names?” Emilio asked, appraising his guests.
Hort answered: “Oh, we’re two friends of Merl—”
Nicola pinched him and Hort bit back a yelp.
Then he saw it.
On the two boys’ lapels.
Their pins for doing good deeds.
Lion pins.
Hort’s heart stopped. Nicola’s clammy hand grazed his.
“She loves those pins . . .”
Dean Brunhilde might have been a friend of Merlin’s once.
But not anymore.
Because Dean Brunhilde was clearly on King Rhian’s side.
“So?” Emilio asked, his eyes sharpening.
“Yes?” Hort squeaked like a rat.
“Who are you?” Emilio repeated, colder this time.
“Oh, my boyfriend’s a former student of the Dean’s,” said Nicola smoothly, nodding at Hort. “Must have graduated just before you started. Now working as a guard for King Rhian. We’ve come to surprise her with the news.”
“I thought you said you had an appointment,” Arjun pipped.
“We do,” said Nicola, smoothing her dress, “but the news is a surprise. Apologies, but it’s been a long journey and I need to sit down. We’ll just wait in the Dean’s office until she returns.”
Emilio bristled. “I don’t think that’s—”
“She’ll be thankful you took good care of us. Don’t worry, keep on with supper duty and we’ll show ourselves there,” said Nicola, scooting past the staircase towards the hall.
“But her office is on the second floor!” said Arjun.
“Of course it is,” said Nicola, turning on her heel, Hort scurrying up the steps behind her.
“FOUND THEM,” HORT breathed, scavenging through a cabinet, pulling out stacks of leather-bound files and spreading them on the floor, soot spiking off the covers. “Labeled by name, but not in any order.”
“Rhian would have been a student recently. Maybe he’s at the top,” said Nicola, seated at the Dean’s desk, picking through her papers.
They’d found Dean Brunhilde’s office at the end of the hall, but they hadn’t anticipated what a mess it would be: books and notes everywhere, drained mugs with soggy tea bags, vases of flowers that had been dead for years, and a pervasive layer of dust that fogged up the room. How can a Dean be so squalid? Then Hort remembered his own dad, who was so busy taking care of other pirates that his personal quarters were a wreck. Kneeling on the floor, Hort rifled through the files, searching the labels for Rhian’s name: ATTICUS . . . GAEL . . . THANASI . . . LUCAS . . . MISCHA . . . KEI . . .
“DEAR MERLIN—”
Hort wheeled in shock and saw Nicola leap at a brown chestnut bouncing around the desk like a jumping bean, the two sides of the nut flapping open as it spoke: “I’VE TRIED TO SEND THIS MESSAGE SEVERAL TIMES—”
Hort lunged for the nut, swiped it into one hand, and crushed the two sides shut, silencing it.
He and Nic stood frozen, listening to the hallway through the closed door.
It remained quiet.
“What is that?” Nic whispered, pointing at Hort’s hand.
“A squirrelly nut,” said Hort. “Safer than a letter, because there’s no paper trail. Squirrel delivers the message and eats the nut, so there’s no evidence it was ever sent. My dad got them from Hook all the time.”
“That message was for Merlin. We need to hear it!” Nicola insisted. “How do we play it softer?”
“Whole point of a squirrelly nut is the message can’t be preserved,” said Hort. “If you try to open it with your hands, it plays at twenty times the volume, which lets everyone know the recipient is a cheat. Only way to open the message without a squirrel is to do it the way a squirrel does.