would certainly never eat cake.
And yet, as much as she dreaded doing interviews with the Courier and its invasive reporters . . . the Courier never lied. And then there was that curious phrase—“a deal was struck”—which seemed to stand out on the page . . .
As the dung fumes cleared and Devan and Laralisa conferred with fellow group members ROWAN, DRAGO, and MALI, who had returned to the table, Agatha found herself wandering to the back of the theater. She gazed out into the Evers’ foyer and its glass sundome overhead, Lionsmane’s message about young Hristo glowing gold in the sky.
Agatha read the message again and again and again.
Until she was quite sure.
There was something off about it.
Not the story or language or tone . . . but something.
Something that told her the story in the Courier was true. That Sophie had written this message. That she was up to something, even if Agatha didn’t know what it was yet.
The Courier had assumed the worst, of course. No one in their right mind would trust Sophie to risk herself for Tedros, a boy who’d rejected her again and again.
But Agatha trusted her.
Which meant that even with Sophie under a king’s eye, facing mortal danger, and a pawn of the enemy, she was still fighting for her friends.
And here Agatha was, free and clear, with a school full of students ready to serve her, and nothing to show for it except sweaty palms and a nervous rash. Meanwhile, without direction, the groups around her seemed to be losing their way. Group #8’s Evers and Nevers were having a loud row over whether they should kill or wound Rhian when they found him; Group #3 was debating whether Merlin was alive or dead; Group #7 battled with a hairy, three-eyed Never named BOSSAM, who insisted Rhian was a better king than Tedros; Group #4 heatedly argued over a diagram of Arthur’s family tree . . .
Agatha felt even more useless watching these upstarts, so passionate and engaged, while she continued to flag, her body sleepy, hungry, and Dovey’s infernal bag still on her arm, weighing her down—
Bag.
Agatha froze.
Something sparked inside her, like a torch in the night.
Lionsmane’s message. Now she knew why it was off.
“When’s the execution?” she asked, rushing back to Group #6.
Devan fidgeted. “Uh, you mean . . .”
“My boyfriend’s execution. Yes. When is it?” Agatha pressed.
“Saturday,” said Laralisa. “But the wedding festivities start today with the Blessing at Camelot’s church.”
“And the events are open to the public?” Agatha asked.
Devan looked at his girlfriend. “Um, as far as we kno—”
Agatha spun to the other groups. “Listen here!”
Students kept arguing at their stations.
Agatha’s fingertip seared gold and she shot a comet through the hall. “I said listen here.”
Evers and Nevers lurched to attention.
“Tedros’ execution will take place at Sophie and Rhian’s wedding in less than a week,” Agatha announced. “There’ll be events leading up to the wedding. Forest Group #6, you’ll be leaving to attend the Blessing shortly.”
Devan, Laralisa, and the rest of their team gaped at each other.
“Um . . . what are we doing there?” Devan asked.
“While they’re at the Blessing, Group #1, you’ll go to the dungeons,” Agatha continued.
Bodhi snorted. Laithan, Valentina, Aja, and the rest of their group looked equally incredulous.
“You just talked to us about how we don’t know where the dungeons are,” said Bodhi.
“Or how to get in,” said Laithan.
“And they’re not trained in combat yet,” Professor Espada added.
“Nor in death traps,” said Professor Manley, stalking into the theater.
“Nor in animal communication,” said Princess Uma.
“Nor in talent manipulation,” said Professor Sheeks.
“NOR IN BASIC COMMON SENSE,” said Castor.
“How can they possibly go to the dungeons if they don’t know where they are? How will they elude the guards?” Professor Anemone asked, wringing her hands.
“Magic,” said Agatha.
“They’ve had two days of magic lessons,” Manley scoffed.
“More than enough,” Agatha replied.
Valentina raised her hand. “Excuse me, Miss Princess Agatha? Didn’t you hear us before? Magic doesn’t work in dungeons—”
“Which means we can’t get to Tedros or Professor Dovey or anyone else,” Aja agreed. “There’s zero way for us to break in.”
“You’re not supposed to break in,” Agatha answered calmly.
She smiled at the bewildered faces and held Professor Dovey’s crystal ball tighter at her side . . .
“You’re supposed to break them out.”
8
HORT
Someday My Weasel Will Come
When Hort was a child, a pirate boy named Dabo used to bully him by roping him to a tree and putting things down his pants. Roaches, leeches, ants, cat poo, spiders, pee-filled