“So who do you belong with?”

The door swung open and Guinevere came in, with a small basket.

“Oh! Sophie, thank goodness. I put some turkey and greens in here for Tedros. He’ll eat it if you give it to him, surely. I don’t want him to go hungry tonight on my account—”

Sophie didn’t hear words, only blood throbbing in her ears.

“I know what you must think of me, Sophie, all of it deserved,” said Guinevere quietly, seeing her face. “Just know that if he never forgives me, if he never speaks a word to me again . . . I’m thankful he’s found his true love. Merlin told us how much Tedros fought for his princess—how much both of you fought to be together. So I can be at peace, knowing my son won’t repeat my mistakes.” Guinevere smiled at the ring on Sophie’s finger. “Because both of your hearts only wish for each other.”

She stroked Sophie’s cheek and left the basket in her shaking hands.

As Sophie watched Tedros’ mother return to the kitchen, she glanced back sickly at Lancelot—

But the knight was gone, as if it’d all been a dream.

“What is it?” Agatha asked, trying to track Hort’s muscled frame in the dark. “What’d you find?”

“You’ll see. You all think I’m such a weenie. Big mistake,” said Hort, itching at his long underpants as they treaded deep into the oak grove. “Huge.”

Squinting back at the house’s lit windows, Agatha could see Sophie and Lancelot talking in the dining room. She turned to Hort. “Wait, this doesn’t involve you turning into a werewolf, does it? You never last more than ten seconds—”

“Man-wolf. And it’s better than that. Trust me. Besides, haven’t practiced my talent in a while, so I only last five seconds now. I don’t get it. How do other man-wolves last so long? Is there some special diet or potion for stamina? I asked Professor Sheeks, but she sent me to the Doom Room for being cheeky.”

Agatha followed Hort towards the sparkle of a pond at the grove’s edge, reflecting the moonlit mirage of Gavaldon.

“Now that Sophie’s not with the School Master anymore, how can he still win your fairy tale?” Hort asked, studying the outlines of the town. “Doesn’t he need love on his side?”

“That’s the odd thing. He hasn’t chased her even though he can’t win without her,” Agatha answered as they stopped at the pond’s edge. “He admitted it to me himself. That’s why he needs her as his queen so badly. She’s Evil’s only hope to win.”

“Then he’s too late.”

Agatha stomach plummeted. “Oh . . . so Tedros might, um . . . kiss her? N-n-not that I care. But you were on the trail with them, so I’m just curious how they were getting alon—”

“I wasn’t talking about Tedros,” said Hort.

Agatha saw him grin down at his reflection in the pond and she rolled her eyes. “Oy, Weasel Boy, if you brought me out here to ogle you in a mirror—”