But now she saw what he was looking at, shimmering deep beneath the surface . . . small bullets of light, shooting upwards like a comet tail, getting closer, closer, until a thousand tiny white fish splashed through, spitting streams of water.

“Wish Fish? You found Wish Fish?” Agatha said, wiping her face and kneeling at the shore. “Princess Uma taught us about them first year!”

“Told you it was better than a man-wolf. Touch the water and they’ll dig into your soul and find your greatest wish,” said Hort. “Nevers were supposed to do the lesson the day after the Evers did it, but then you set the fish free, started an animal stampede, and nearly burned down the castle. School didn’t get new Wish Fish after that.”

Agatha stroked the bobbing mouths of the little white fish, feeling their tickly kisses. “Suppose these want to be set free too?”

Yet as she gazed into their big, black eyes, she didn’t see any traces of the same yearning. “I used to be able to hear wishes,” she said to Hort. “Maybe I lost my talent like you.”

“Or maybe they’ve just been fish too long to remember they were once human,” said the weasel. “In any case, I’m going first.”

He stuck his finger in the water.

Instantly, the fish zipped off in different directions, turning black, silver, and gold, as they assembled themselves into a picture. For a moment, Agatha had no clue what she was seeing, until suddenly the mosaic of fish clarified, as if coming into focus, and she raised her brows in surprise.

The fish had drawn Hort and Sophie’s sunlit wedding at the edge of a lake as a mob of well-wishers cheered them on. Both the bride and groom wore black, the only concession to the fact this was an Evil occasion as opposed to a Good one.

“It’s lovely, Hort,” Agatha said, feeling let down, “but it’s just your wish—”

“That’s what I thought,” Hort replied, “until I saw that.”

He pointed to the corner of the fish’s painting, where two guests holding hands—a teenage boy and girl—looked happiest of all for the new couple. The boy had a crown of silver and diamonds upon his golden head. The girl wore a matching crown in her black hair.

Agatha lost her breath.

“It’s me and . . . Tedros,” she whispered.

“And I’d never wish for you to marry that prat,” snorted Hort. “I hate him too much to wish him the slightest happiness, let alone a queen with as much class and integrity as you. So if that’s inside my wish, it means it’s already going to happen. It means this whole picture is deeper than a wish, Agatha. It’s the truth. I’m going to end with Sophie and you’re going to end with Tedros. That’s our happy ending. The four of us together. No one left out.”

Agatha’s eyes bulged, pink streaks rising on her cheeks. Oh my God. . . . This is it! She could have grabbed Hort and kissed him. This was the answer they’d been waiting for . . . the way out of this tangled fairy tale . . . the Last Ever After revealed once and for all. Sophie with Hort and she with—