She stopped cold.

A raven-haired boy was standing ahead, at the edge of the foyer. Tight chest and stomach muscles pressed against his black uniform shirt, and his breeches revealed smooth, chiseled calves. His dark bangs draped over his forehead and his long nose was the only feature out of proportion on his small, heart-shaped face. Sophie drew a breath, taken by his cool, erect stance, and for a moment she thought him the strange man from her dream. But he was too young, clearly a student. Only she didn't recognize him from either school—

But then Sophie saw his eyes.

Scorching her with hate.

His beady, weaselly eyes.

"Shouldn't you be somewhere, Hort?" The School Master said, glowering at him.

Hort's glare slashed deeper into Sophie, honing in on her hand in Rafal's, before he finally glanced up. "I was throwing hammers in the gym, Master," he said, flat and hard. "Earned extra time."

"Right. You've been racking up the first ranks, I hear," said the School Master, pulling Sophie tighter and making sure Hort saw it. "Keep up the good work, Captain."

Hort gave Sophie a last deadly look before he walked into the wings.

Sophie didn't move, her heart thundering. First ranks? . . . gym? . . . Captain? Hort?

"Shall we?"

She looked up at Rafal, who was staring blackly at where Hort had just been.

"I don't want you to miss your first class," he said, slipping a small scroll of paper into her hand, before he glided up the stairs in front of her.

Sophie lagged behind, still dazed by Hort's reappearance and the weird looks between him and Rafal—

"The Tale of Sophie and Agatha, inside and out," said Hort, rolling into the room without books or a bag, his hand slid up his shirt, showing off his rippled stomach. "You know, trying to spot Agatha's and Tedros' weaknesses, so we can kill 'em and finally stop being losers." He dropped into a seat, blew his dark bangs out of his glittering black eyes, and stretched his chest with a yawn.

Sophie goggled at Hort's broad shoulders, casual stubble, and laid-back slouch. In a month, he'd gone Fromm wimpy, earnest pipsqueak to teenage heartthrob. She noticed all the other girls slyly checking him out, Evers and Nevers both. It must be a makeover spell, she thought, watching him toss his hair. Or a twin brother or a deal with the devil or something . . . Hort caught her looking and scowled at her murderously like he had in the foyer. Sophie stiffened and pretended to listen to Pollux.

"As Hort points out, the first week we did a unit on Tedros' shortcomings as a prince," the dog said, plopping on the teacher's desk and shoving Sophie over.

Thoughts of Hort fell away as Sophie studied the painting of her and Tedros together when she was Filip.

Stunned, panicked, exhilarated, she hugged him with a gasp: "Teddy, it's you!"

Rubber instantly melted to skin and Hort glared back at her.

"Don't touch."

Sophie recoiled in shock—

A "1" rank exploded over Hort's head in a crown of green smoke, as rankings popped up over everyone else, their masks melting away over their usual faces.

"Well done, Hort!" Pollux said. "You'll no doubt help our queen kill the real Tedros."

"No doubt," said Hort, still staring daggers at Sophie.

It can't be Hort, even though he'd won the challenge, for he'd always hated Tedros and had no incentive to help him.

Sophie noticed Hort over his shoulder, as Beatrix flirted with him in a corner.

"Sophie?"

"Mmm?"

Rafal caught her glancing at Hort. Sophie instantly looked back at Rafal.

With a relieved breath, Sophie flung to the surface, whipping her hair like a mermaid out of the sea and opened her eyes with a smile.

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.

Sophie checked her arm, desperate to get out of this tub, but her blisters were still raw. "First of all, don't call me stupid, Hort. Second of all, please believe when I say I'm sorry for last year, okay? I still don't know why Tedros' name came out of my mouth instead of yours. I'm done with him . . . I really am. I don't know what else to say—"

"As if I'd believe anything you said anyway," Hort snorted. "I've already killed you and kissed you more times in my head than you deserve."

Sophie stared at him.

Hort sighed, flicking the water. "But I learned my lesson. No one wants Old Hort. So meet New Hort instead. Modeled right after your cool, manly prince. The Hort chicks dig."

"But that Hort isn't real at all," said Sophie, frowning. "That Hort isn't you."

"Well, whoever it is . . ." Hort raised his gaze. "Finally got your attention, didn't he?"

Sophie fell silent.

"Yikes, getting pruney," Hort deflected, assessing his wrinkled fingers. He started to push out of the tub. "Besides, your new boyfriend's probably waiting for you."

Sophie watched him get out, water sliding down the curves of his back.

"Hort?"

He stopped, still facing away from her. The only sound in the room was the drip of his shorts onto the carpet.

"Do you still love me?" she whispered.

Slowly Hurt turned to Sophie with a sad smile, looking like the raw, openhearted boy she once knew.

"No."

Sophie averted her eyes. "Oh good. Yes. Glad to hear it," she chimed, fussing with her dress before looking up. "You know, with my new boyfriend and all—"

But Hort was gone.

For a long time, Sophie stayed in the steaming pool, sweating and gazing at the spot where he'd been, even after her arm was well healed, even after her skin had shriveled dry.

Rafal, she thought, admiring her ring, imagining his gorgeous snow-cold face in its reflection . . .

Only now she was seeing Hort instead, pink and warm in steaming blue mist . . .

But it wasn't the School Master at all.

It was a pallied, dark-haired boy, weasel-quick and charging towards Sophie, black eyes aflame.

Agatha gasped. "Hort, no !"

Amidst all this chaos, Hort lingered in front of the moth-eaten curtain shrouding the far cave wall. He was eerily still, biceps folded over his chest, as if standing guard over something. He met Agatha's gaze for just a moment, then narrowed his eyes cooly and glanced away.

"The League will split up and hide throughout the woods, while I escort you, Tedros, Sophie, and that surly, over muscled Neverboy to a safe house where the four of you won't be found."

"Hort? We're taking Hort?" Said Agatha trying to keep up.

"Put it this way," said Tedros. "Last night, Sophie beat Hort with any utensil in the kitchen she could find, saying he'd ruined everything by coming with us and he better scram before she put the rolling pin up his you know what. But ever since we tried to make her destroy the ring, well, not only won't she destroy it, but now it seems she isn't in such a hurry to get rid of Hort after all."

Agatha followed the prince's eyes to the buff, black-haired boy standing sentinel in from t of a curtained cave wall . . . and a human-sized lump in the curtain behind him.

"It's why he's coming with us," Tedros said grimly. "She says he's her bodyguard."

Hort barred her path. "Can I help you?"

"I need to talk to her, Hort. Now," Agatha commanded.

"No visitors," said Hort.

"Sophie, tell the ape to move!" Agatha barked over his shoulder.

"Are we going to talk about the ring?" squeaked Sophie behind the curtain.

"Obviously!"

"Then no."

Hort grinned at Agatha, bangs jagged against his forehead like lightning bolts.

Agatha glowered witheringly. "Tried to be her roommate, tried to be her best friend, and now you're her slave. Nice muscles by the way. If only a hot body cured spinelessness and servility."

Hort thrust his face in hers, flashing sharp, yellow teeth. "As soon as she's ready, I'm taking her back to the School for Evil where she belongs," he hissed, lowering his voice so Sophie wouldn't hear. "She's not staying here with these weird old fogeys or anywhere near that . . . that . . . dingleweed." He locked eyes with Tedros across the room and spat in his direction. Tedros made an obscene gesture at him.

But Agatha was still gazing at Hort's jacked up torso and edgy haircut, her face softening in astonishment. "You really think you still have a chance with her, don't you? That's why you chased her. That's why you're still here."

Hort blinked back, as if she'd seen him naked. Then he sneered savagely. "If you don't get out of my reach in the next three seconds, I'll —"

"Hort, dearest?" Sophie's voice fluttered softly. "You can let Aggie through. But tell her she has to bring me new clothes and some nail polish."

Agatha barreled by Hort, elbowing him in the sternum and threw open the curtain to find Sophie shivering against the wall, black gown torn to shreds, cheeks pale, hair rumpled, and makeup smeared all over her like a madwoman in an attic.

Agatha wiped away sand to see the entire League gathered behind Hort's body barrier, pretending not to eavesdrop.

Sophie vamped as Hort crawled out of the cave behind her.

"Merlin set the pace ahead of us and you can follow with the weasel at a distanc. He is your bodyguard, isn't he?" (Tedros)

Near the cave hole, Hort gaped at all this in horror.

"HIM? You're going with him?" he screeched losing his rebel-cool facade. "What about me?"

"You follow behind us and ward off danger, darling!" Sophie called, without turning. "That's what bodyguards do."
Hort's chest puffed up, his rage about to blow, but it was too late.

Sophie was already cozied up to another boy — a boy Hort had come all this way to save her from—leaving the weasel alone in the dust.

"I don't understand girls," said Tedros, plopping into crinkly tulips. "You leave Rafal, but you won't destroy his ring. You hire Hort as a bodyguard but you want to travel with me."

The prince caught her staring and walked away. "You're right. Shouldn't linger until the weasel comes along."

"He'll be hungry, won't he?" said Sophie, bunching dead tulips into a mound and topping it with the leftovers plate, so Hort wouldn't miss it. "He really is a nice boy. Just wants to protect me from being hurt, even if he doesn't love me anymore. Poured his heart out in the steam bath at school. Well after all I've done to him, making sure he has his lunch is the least I can do."

She scraped to her knees to get up and saw Tedros halted on the path, smirking at her. "What?" She asked.

"Who knew you had feelings?" He marveled, and hiked ahead.

Sophie pinked in surprise.

Maybe a wee bit Good after all, she thought.

"And who knew you took steam baths with Hort?" She heard Tedros say.

A fire-tipped tree branch ripped right through Smee's head, igniting his skull with blue flames.

Eyes wide, the henchmen let go of Sophie, his head combusting at the stitches, as he flopped back into darkness.

Stunned, Sophie looked at Hook, who'd moved off Tedros as he watched Smee's body consumed by blue fire. Slowly the Captain looked down the path at a broad-shouldered, raven-hair stranger, brandishing a glowing blue fingertip.

"I-I-I know that boy," said Hook, astonished. "That's Scourie's son. Born and raised on my very ship—"

But it was Hook's last words, for a sword ran him through and he dropped to his knees, mouth open in shock, before falling face-first on the trail.

Behind him, Tedros wiped his blade of zombie guts and rose gingerly, inspecting a patchwork of hook wounds in his right side, bleeding into his cloak. He breathed relief, as if none of them were mortal.

"I owe you my life, Hort," said Tedros, looking up.

Hort stepped into the moonlight, teeth gnashed at him. "I saved her. Not you."

Sohpie saw the rage in Hort's face, the result of a full day alone with his festering feelings. Her eyes widened, suddenly understanding.

"But…but…you said you didn't love me anymore—" Sophie rasped.

Hort whirled to her. "I lied."

Lost in a fog, Sophie didn't know what to say. But she knew one thing for sure. She couldn't take Hort travel by himself any longer. Not when he'd saved her life.

Soon they'd resumed their journey, the three of them in a silent pack, for Sophie couldn't say anything to Tedros that Hort should hear, and Tedros and Hort had no desire to speak in the other's presence. And just when Sophie thought the tension could get no worse, she looked back distractedly at the horror show they'd left behind—

"Um… boys?" she croaked.

Prince and Weasel turned.

They looked past Sophie to see Smee's corpse in the distance, still burning off the path. Hook's body was gone.

"But I stabbed him in the heart!" said Tedros, still defending himself the next afternoon.

"For the last time, zombies don't have hearts," snapped Hort. "Why do you think I set Smee on fire? It's the only way to destroy them—"

"Why didn't you say something then?"

"Cause I was hoping Hook would kill you!"

There they'd camped until morning, each in their own den, with the two boys taking turns on lookout.

"It's Avalon," he said.

"You've been here before?" Hort asked.

"There you two are," yawned a voice and Sophie turned to see Merlin lumbering up fro a nap against a rock. "Took you long enough. Oh and look, our bodyguard too," he said as Hort came off the stairs.

"Waters? You want us to swim?" Hort blurted, peering over the edge of the lake. "How are we supposed to live underwat—"

Merlin groaned and pushed him in.

Hort was sucked through the water with a blast of white light before he vanished under the surface entirely.

Sophie craned to see Agatha with Hort and Tedros standing on a lush green moor, the grass so green and dewy it sparkled under the melting sun. Sophie stood and say they were surrounded by more green heaths, with sheeps, cows, and horses grazing freely, as if they'd found a haven from the dying Woods.

"Look," Agatha said.

The others followed her eyes to a small farmhouse across the moors.

"Must be our safe house," said Hort.

"Your dark-haired friend asked if he could have a bath. Funny lad… said he didn't want to stink up the table. What's his name again? Homer? Hodor?

None of them answered.

"Hobbin, I think," said Lancelot.

Agatha could see Tedros' shirt wet with perspiration, his Adam's apple lurching up and down, the veins on his arms about to pop—

"Hort. His name is Hort," Guinevere said, bustling in from the kitchen with a dish of fire-grilled turkey and a bowl of rampion salad.

"What about you, dear? Did you and Hort meet at school? Or was it the Snow Ball,—" (Guinevere to Agatha)

"Heard I took you to the Snow Ball and didn't even know it," a voice said.

She turned to see Hort, bare chested in long underpants, his hair dripping wet.

Maybe it was her wrought expression or the red in her cheeks, but Hort awkwardly covered his chest. "Uh, she's washing my clothes. Don't fall in love with me or anything," he mumbled.

Agatha took one look at his worried face and exploded into cackles, tearing and laughing at the same time.

"Oh eat my dust, will you!" Hort barked. "You know full well you're impressed by what you see!"
Agatha wiped her eyes. "Oh, Hort. One day people will read our fairy tale and you'll be the one they love the most."

She started walking away.

"I didn't lose my clothes this time! I gave them to her!" He called out. "And I'll have my own fairy tale, one day. With a happy ending and everything. I can prove it —"

"Really? How's that?"

"'Cause I found something you won't believe."

Agatha stopped walking and turned.

The weasel flashed a wicked grin. "Want to see?"

"What is it?" Agatha asked, trying to track Hort's muscled far 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 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—"

But now she was 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 the 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 been fish too long to remember they were once human," said the weasel. "In any case, I'm going first."

He struck 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 the 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. Im 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 —

Slowly the color seeped out of Agatha's cheeks.

"No...it can't be the truth, Hort" she croaked. "Because I'll never marry Tedros. And Sophie will never love you.

The glow in Hort's face snuffed out.

"Sophie loves Tedros. And unlike me, she never doubted that love" Agatha said, hunched in the grass next to him. "All I did was doubt Tedros. The more time he and I spent together the more I couldn't understand why he wanted me when he could have a real princess. That's why I wanted to keep him in Gavaldon. In my mother's house, he wasn't a prince. He was a scared teenage boy, as lost and confused as I was. But here, in the Woods, Tedros is different: he's true to himself and lives with a purpose. In his heart, he's already a king—a king who needs a queen just as confident and self-assured as he is, who can lead his people to hope again. That's not me. I'm still learning to like what I see in the mirror and accept that someone can actually love me for who I really am. I'm not a leader. I'm not..special."

She gazed at her crowned self in the painting. "When we were at school in the wrong bodies, Tedros said he was afraid of me seeing him once the prince is stripped away. That I'd see he's nothing special... just an ordinary boy. But that's the Tedros I love. Because the real Tedros— the prince who will grow into a strong, powerful king—will see one day that I'm no different than his mother. I never wanted a prince or a fairy tale. I never wanted a big life. I'm just a girl struggling to be ordinary."

She looked up at Hort, eyes wet. "But Sophie? Sophie believes she deserves a prince. Sophie wants to be queen. Enough that she's willing to risk the future of Good for it—"

"Which is exactly why she can't be Good's queen!" Hort fought, nodding at his Wish Fish. "Don't you get it? You belong with Tedros and I belong with—

"Then why can't I see my future together with him? If I belonged with him, why can't I see myself as this girl in your wish? I'm meant to be alone, Hort. That's why I'kk lose him. Because I need to learn to be happy on my own. Like my mother was. That can be an Ever After, can't it?"

"You haven't lost him, Hort pressed, still looking at his fish. "It's never too late in a fairy tale!

Agatha sighed wistfully and touched his cheek. "Even fairy tales have limits, Hort. Both of us have to let go. Let Sophie and Tedros live their Ever After. For your own happiness."

Hort scorched pink. "For my own happiness? That's rich coming from you, he sneered, yanking his finger from the water, dissolving the painting. "You're the one forcing Tedros to love Sophie, just so she'll destroy that ring. I heard what she said behind that curtain in the cave. At least I'm willing to fight for my happy ending. You're giving away your true love to someone he doesn't belong with and expecting him to live with it forever! Tell yourself all you want that you're not good enough for him, Agatha. Tell yourself you're doing it to save Good. Tell yourself any excuse that lets you sleep at night. But we both know you're just too afraid to fight for the person you belong with. And you know what, princess? Even if I hate the boy to his bones, that doesn't sound Good to me at all."

Hort stalked away, leaving Agatha alone by the pond.

She watched him go, her heart wasting to a small, dark hollow.

She caressed the fish goodbye and followed Hort's receding shadow back towards the house.

Neither Hort nor Agatha had noticed there was a third person by the pond the whole time, sitting behind a tall oak.

Hort spent his days with Lancelot doing chores around the farm. From morning until night, they'd milk cows, till the vegetable garden, gather eggs from chickens, shear sheep, bathe the horses, and manage a frisky goat named Fred who chased any animal of female persuasion halfway across the moors. Caked in sweat, smelling of hay and manure, Hort seemed elated to be useful to such a virile man, and they looked almost like father and son with their oily black hair, puffed-up chests, and swaggering gaits.

Each morning, they'd have bacon and eggs with Hort, Lancelot, and Guinevere, do their best to tidy up before Tedros' other shooed them out, and spend the rest of the morning walking the moors or riding horses together.

But Hort's words at the pond had put a dent in her convictions. For one thing, while Sophie aspired to rule one of Good's kingdoms, here she was holding Good hostage over her ring.

With a firm kick to Benedict's side, Agatha raced after Sophie's horse, while Hort and Lancelot hooted from the sheep's meadow, thoroughly entertained.

"Hort?" She called out. (Agatha)

Far across the moors, Hort waited a long time after Tedros left the cave before he made his move. He'd followed the prince when he'd brought Sophie here, so it was unsettling to see him leave the cave without her. Skulking out from behind a tree, Hort stole through the opening, his fingertip glowing, until the sapphire walls blinded him with their glare.

"Sophie?" he called, shielding his eyes. "Sophie, where are you?"

But all Hort found was an unused sword and a spatter of black feathers, as if she'd been rescued away by a swan.

"What's this?" Lancelot's voice blustered, as the knight galumphed into the grove with Hort. "A coronation we're not invited to?"
"I'm never invited to anything," Hort muttered.

Neither Tedros, Agatha, nor Guinevere acknowledged them.

"Leave making lunch to me and the boys," she said quickly, eyeing Lancelot as she took Hort's hand.

"Me?" Hort blurted. "Why can't the pampered prince do it? I didn't get a wink of sleep and then spent half the morning wrangling hogs while you and him spent last night snuggling in the barn, doing God knows wha—"

Agatha dug her nails into his wrist, making him yelp. "We'll be back with food soon," she said, dragging him off.

Then Guinevere, Lancelot, Hort … until Tedros gazed at Agatha squarely and sank to his knee too.

"Speaking of makeovers, anyone notice Hort's looking even juicier than he did at school?"chirped Dot, biting into the cocoa-pizza she'd swiped off the floor. "Saw him when we

came in and he has this swarthy tan from working the moors and mud stains on his cheeks, like he's Captain Lumberjack something. But you know how I like woodsy types, with my crush on Robin Hood and all. Anyway, I sneak behind and give him a good sniff and notice he smells like a man now, nothing like that boy who used to wear frog pajamas and reek of baby powder, and all I could think was since there aren't too many rooms in this place, I wonder if I can get Merlin to put me and him in the same—"

"Over my dead body," bellowed Hort, who stuck his head out from around the corner.

Hester glared back, demon twitching. "That can be arranged."

Hort muttered something obscene and vanished behind the wall.

Hester saw Dot goggling at her. "What now?"

"Did you just defend me?"

"Only because you look so stupid in that crown," Hester grumped.

"In the meantime, I expect the League to work with our young heroes—Agatha, Tedros, Hort, Hester, Anadil, and Dot—and prepare them as best as you can for the villains they'll face, given you once battled these same villains yourself." (Merlin)

Agatha crammed between Hester and Hort, trying to get a view of the table as Berlin paired up the figurines, announcing the training teams: Dot with Red Riding Hood, Anadil with Jack and Briar Rose …

But it was Hort who had the worst pairing of all. He'd been so focused on wooing Sophie these past few weeks that he'd failed to notice that one of the old men stalking about the

farmhouse was his mortal enemy.

Pan.

Pan!

At first he couldn't believe it, since Peter Pan was the boy who'd vowed never to grow up, let alone grow bald, wrinkled, and frail. But then he saw Tinkerbell perched on the old man's

shoulder and his stomach went cold.

To be matched with the hero who'd slain his father during the Battle of the Jolly Roger, the hero who'd left him an orphan at the age of six, the hero who he'd shadow-dueled in daydreams all his life… well, it nearly stopped the poor boy's heart. And yet, after the shock subsided, he never felt rage only an empty despair. For in his dreams, Hort had always imagined Peter young and cocksure, a bumptious, trash-talking sprig he could kill in a fair fight. But now, watching Pan so old and ordinary, Hort lost the will to fight him at all.

Right then and there, he understood what made him different from the Evil School Master they were about to face. Because unlike him, Hort could see when a story was over and it was time to move on.

So that first day of training, he and Peter slit their palms and made a blood oath to mutual respect. Hort vowed to slay Captain Hook and put him back in his tomb. And in return, Pan promised to stand beside Hort at his father's grave when the war was done and won.

"Were running out of time and we can't fight all of Evil by ourselves!" Hort fretted, as he, Agatha, Tedros, and the three witches shared a midnight snack of chocolate cookies (they

started as gingersnaps before Dot had her way with them). "For one thing, we don't even have weapons! Lancelot hardly had use for them out here, so all we have are a couple of his rusty old training swords and a few carving knives that won't stop a rat, let alone zombies that can only be killed by fire. What are we supposed to fight with? How are we supposed win?"

"Win? How do we even get to Evil if Merlin doesn't come back to let us through the portal?" said Hester.

Hort gaped at her. He swiveled to Agatha . "This is your fault! You give some high falutin speech about young and old working together, making us all feel guilty, when Merlin never

even told us the plan!"

"After Lancelot beats you into another pile of crap, you mean," snorted Hort.

Tedros ignored him and took another cookie.

As Agatha inched not the den, she noticed that the group was no longer divided into old on one side and young on the other as usual, but into the various mentor groups—Hort with Peter Pan, Anadil with Jack and Briar Rose, Hester with Hansel and Gretel, Dot with Red Riding Hood… before Hort caught sight of Agatha and he and Pan went quiet. All the other pairs did too.

Instinctively, the younger members shielded their older mentors, remembering their duty to protect them and keep the shield over the Reader World intact. Anadil's rats spread out across Anadil's, Jack's, and Briar Rose's shoulders like bodyguards; Hester and Lancelot wheeled Hansel and Gretel through the pebbly dirt; Yuba struck by the White Rabbit, whose night vision was quite acute; Dot and Red Riding Hood hewed to Princess Uma, insisting a teacher of Animal Communication should know how to manage stymphs ("Stymphs aren't animals; they're beasts," Uma moaned); and Hort held out a rusty training sword, guarding Peter Pan and Tinkerbell.

"Merlin, this is where we 'leave it to you'!" Hort called out.

"That'll be difficult, 'cause Merlin ain't here," said Hort.

"That is the School Master!" Hort hissed. "I told you he turned young!" (to Lancelot)

He swished his arms once more and four unmanned stymphs with bows and fiery arrows in their mouths throttled towards the ground, scooping Hester, Anadil, Dot, and Hort onto their backs, who immediately began taking aim at zombie targets and letting arrows fly.

"If Daddy could see me now…" Dot cheered , lancing a headless horseman through the chest.

"He'd ask why we're fighting for Good," Anadil crabbed taking out two Harpies.

"Always the party pooper, Ani," said Hester, firing arrows as her demon flung firebolts from its mouth, igniting zombies on the spot.

"No wonder Good always wins," Hort marveled as he flew above them, watching Merlin correct the witches shots. "You guys cheat!"

"Sophie?"

Her eyes fluttered open to full-blown morning.

"They're starting soon," said Hort.

He was standing at the frosted door of the roof, his muscular frame obscured by a dumpy black tunic that used to be Evil's uniform.

In his hand was a matching tunic.

"No," Sophie gasped. "Really?"

Hort cracked a grin. "Really."

"Hmm . . Maybe your Prince Charming is just around the corner, said a voice.

Sophie looked up at Hort next to her.

She took in his playful face, well-built body, and adoring grin…

"I'm afraid I've already found my Ever After, Hort," said Sophie.

"What? With who? " Hort asked, aghast—

"On my own," she said, her voice sure and clear. "I'm happy on my own."

And for the first time, she knew it was true.

As Hort fumbled for words, the bells rang over both schools, summoning the students to their castles. Whispering Nevers gave their new Dean gobsmacked looks as they herded towards the north gates. ("What were you saying about missing her?" Dot ribbed Hester and Anadil, both deathly pale.)

"Sophie!" Hort said, chasing her.

"Mmmm?"

"You aren't jealous that Agatha gets a boy and a crown and kingdom and everything else?" Hort pressed in disbelief. "You aren't jealous that Agatha's a queen?"

He saw her stop at the gates, faced away as students streamed past.

"A tiny bit, of course," she said softly. "But then I remember…

Sophie looked back, smiling bright as a diamond.

"I'm me."