Hort glowered at her through steam.

“If it isn’t Little Miss Liar.”

Sophie blanched and scrambled back like a crab to escape.

“Scared, are you?” Hort taunted.

“No, I’m just not in the habit of taking steam baths with random boys,” snapped Sophie, pulling out of the tub.

“Random boy?” Hort smirked. “I was your best friend last year, remember? The best friend who helped you survive boys’ classes, who helped you beat Tedros, who you promised to take into the Trial, only to take Tedros instead—”

“Nice chat,” Sophie babbled, hurrying away—

Only then did she notice the red cluster of pox on her arms, still healing.

“Couple more minutes and they’ll clear up,” Hort said behind her. “Leave now and they might scar forever.”

Sophie glared at him through the mist, shirtless in his black shorts, his pale, toned chest flushed pink from the heat.

“Couple more minutes,” she muttered, sliding into the tub as far away from him as she could.

“Perks of being top-ranked. Can work out whenever I want and the teachers don’t say much,” said Hort, picking at a small pimple on his arm. “Now I see why Tedros was obsessed with this place. Narcissists must love it here. Lucky they had that woodpecker keeping track of time or Prince Pretty Face would never have left. Bird’s probably locked up with the other Good teachers by now, of course. Nymphs too. You should see who’s stuck working the Laundry.”

“I don’t get it. Why is there still a Groom Room in an Evil castle?”

“Ask your new boyfriend,” Hort spat. “Uses it more than anyone. Clearly trying to look good for you.”

“Rafal uses the Groom Room?”

“Oh, that’s his name now? Suppose he needs a new name to go with the new face so you’re not reminded of the old one. Nice try, but I’ll stick with ‘School Master.’”

“He’s no older than you or me,” Sophie defended.

“Keep telling yourself that. Can’t speak too poorly about the man though. Gave my father a proper tomb when I begged him to. I mean, it wasn’t Necro Ridge with the best villains, where Dad shoulda been buried, but Vulture Vale was good enough. Especially considering the School Master don’t like me much. You know, since I was in love with you and all. But at least he had the decency to let my dad rest in peace.”

“See, he’s not so bad, is he?” Sophie soothed. “And now your father finally got the grave he deserved. Because he had a noble, persistent son who made sure of it.”

Hort nodded, hiding a sniffle.

“Meanwhile, seems like you’ve been spending a fair amount of time in the Groom Room yourself,” Sophie ribbed. “Almost as Tedros-like as your imitation of him.”

“Well, I should know him better than anyone, shouldn’t I?” Hort retorted, hardening.

“Huh? Why would you know anything about Tedros?”

Hort snarled. “Either you’re lying again or you’re as stupid as you look. You ditch me first year for him when you were a girl. You ditch me second year for him when you were a boy. You lie and cheat and steal for him while he treats you like crap, and I help you and care for you and worship you like a queen while you treat me like crap! What does that guy have that I don’t? What makes him so lovable and me so unworthy? Know how many times I’ve asked myself that question, Sophie? How many times I’ve studied him like a book or sat in the dark picturing every last shred of him, trying to understand why he’s more of a person than me? Or why the moment he’s gone, you take a ring from the School Master—or Raphael or Michelangelo or Donatello or whatever you want to call him to make yourself feel better—just because he looks like you want him to look and says what you want to hear? When you could have had someone who’s honest and kind and real?” His black, beady eyes lanced right through her.