Simon sat up forcefully, pushing me off.

I sat up, too, sighing. “More than one, apparently.”

“But I was the Chosen One!” He turned to face me, his wings flared out behind him. “I mean, I was a fraud, but—”

“Disagree.”

“Baz…” he groaned, hiding his face.

“Simon, you know how I feel about this. You fulfilled every prophecy.”

“The Greatest Mage was supposed to defeat the greatest threat to the World of Mages; I was the greatest threat to the World of Mages.”

I shrugged. “Why not both?”

Simon shook his head, still trying to make sense of it all. “So, like, new people are calling themselves the Greatest Mage now?”

I leaned back against my headboard, elbows up, crossing my wrists on my head. “That’s how it seems. Fiona didn’t give me many details—just that, with you and the Mage out of the picture, a few charlatans are taking advantage.”

He still looked dumbfounded. “So your stepmother is following around a new Chosen One?”

“I’m not sure. Aunt Fiona thinks so.”

“Well”—Simon squared his shoulders—“we have to rescue her.”

I could have hugged him in that moment. And then I realized that I could hug him. That nothing was stopping me. I wrapped my arms around him, under his wings, and held tight.

“Baz?” Simon’s arms fell more gently around me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just very glad that you’re here.”

He held me more confidently then. “Why would anyone even want to be the Chosen One?”

I huffed a laugh into his neck. “Power, obviously.”

He shook his head against mine. “There’s no power,” he said, his voice low.

I didn’t know what to say to that. Simon could have ruled the World of Mages with his magic. He could have ruled the world.

“I’ll text Penelope,” he said, pulling away from me to find his phone. “She must not know about all this. She would have mentioned it—to you, if not to me.”

“Simon … Are you certain you want to get involved in this? It is magic.”

He looked back at me, like I was being silly. “It’s your stepmum.”

I smiled. I watched him send his texts. “I can make a few calls tomorrow morning,” I said. “Ask around. See if anyone knows anything.”

“Shouldn’t we get started now?” He was sitting on the edge of the bed, ready to go.

I held my hand out to him. “No. Nothing will change overnight. Let’s just sleep.”

He looked surprised. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, Snow.”

He bit his lip for a moment, then took my hand and folded his wings. “All right. We’ll rescue Daphne tomorrow.”

I pulled him down beside me, and laid my head on his chest again. “Tomorrow.”

The next morning—this morning—while Simon made toast, I sat at the kitchen table and called someone I could trust to be honest with me.