Soon Agatha heard neighbors returning after sessions, then complaining about dinner (stewed sardines and cabbage, she gathered, leaving her extra thankful for Merlin’s magic hat), and before she knew it, the wintry light had dimmed through the window, melting into nighttime. Agatha lit Hester’s claw-shaped candle on the nightstand and pored over some of the witch’s books (Advanced Spells for Suffering, Why Villains Fail, Frequent Witch Mistakes) hoping she’d find something useful. Tedros, meanwhile, was scribbling at Dot’s desk in the dark, balling up pages every ten seconds, breaking quills in frustration, and cursing loudly in his boy voice.

Agatha ignored him and focused on her task. Her best bet was Halfway Bridge, she thought. It’s how she’d broken into both the School for Evil and the School for Boys. Surely she could find her way into the School for Old the same wa—

Tedros broke another quill.

“Oh for God’s sake. What are you writing?”

Tedros slouched, like a maiden failing to spin straw into gold. “Figured I should write down all the things I want to say to Sophie, but there’s so much I don’t know where to start.”

“You’ll think of something,” Agatha grumbled, nose still in her book.

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m crap under pressure.”

Agatha glanced up at him, her prince’s earnest, puppy-dog eyes blinking through his girl’s face. Strangely, he’d never looked more adorable.

“What happened to ‘I’ll know what to do when the times comes?’” she asked.

“I know what to do when I’m with you. Never really thought I’d be rescuing her on my own. No matter how much I acted like it.”

Agatha blushed and went back to her book. “You’ve never been at a loss for words when it comes to Sophie. You flirted with her when she was a girl . . . when she was a boy . . . I’m sure you’ll be charming her in no time.”

“I was me both of those times. This is different.” Tedros stretched his arms and climbed onto Anadil’s middle bed. “Besides, I already have a princess. Even though she picks fights with me for no reason.”

“And I have a prince who doesn’t listen to me and always thinks he’s right,” Agatha snapped.

“Because you act like you don’t need me half the time.”

“Because you act like I’m supposed to do what you say!”

“Because you’re always trying to be the prince!”

“Well, I don’t have the faintest clue how to be a princess!” Agatha barked—

“OBVIOUSLY!” Tedros roared. “WHY DO YOU THINK I LIKE YOU SO MUCH!” He rolled onto his other side.

Agatha watched him in silence, all the stress she’d been festering slowly seeping away.

Tedros didn’t flinch as she climbed onto the bed next to him, keeping a space between their bodies. Together, they lay side by side in the dark, staring at the burnt ceiling.

Girl and boy.

Boy and girl.

“Hester’s right. All I’ve ever had going for me is a crown, a fortune, and a face,” Tedros said quietly. “Dovey used to say we’d need more than looks and charm to find our happy ending. Chaddick and the boys made fun of the old bat, and I’d join in. But when I saw Sophie on the shore and I was no longer a prince, I knew she was right. I felt naked, powerless . . . like I was hollow inside. You all think I’m scared of being a girl? It’s not being a girl I’m scared of. It’s that I’ll only be loved for what’s on the outside, rather than the real me. That’s been my biggest fear my whole life. That all anyone sees is a tall, blond prince, straight out of a storybook, and fills in the rest without seeing what’s actually there. But now, for the first time, that outside is gone and I’m in a weird body that isn’t mine . . . and all I have is the Tedros inside me. The Tedros that I don’t know is good enough for anybody to love.”