back to thinking it’s caught at the wrong angle,” Tedros sighed.
“What if we consider it from Excalibur’s point of view?” Merlin asked.
“You think Excalibur doesn’t want me to pull it out?” Tedros asked, surprised.
“More like it doesn’t want you to be king,” said Merlin.
“But I am king—”
“Only because someone else who has a rightful claim to the throne has yet to pull the sword. And no one does, since you are King Arthur’s only child. So again: Why won’t Excalibur let you complete your father’s test?”
Tedros crossed his arms. “How should I know what a sword thinks?”
“Excalibur is a weapon of immense power, forged by the Lady of the Lake to fight Evil. It does not want to spend its days trapped in a balcony,” said Merlin. “Perhaps the sword is trying to be sure you are ready to be king and is waiting for you to prove it. In which case, the question is … how?”
Merlin wiped his spectacles with his robes, making them even dustier. “That’s theory #1.”
“And theory #2?” Agatha asked.
“That it isn’t the sword making these decisions at all,” said Merlin. “That someone else has found a way to control it, like a master controls a puppet, preventing you from sealing your own coronation. In which case, the question is … who?”
“But no one is powerful enough to control Excalibur,” Agatha rebutted. She slowly turned to Tedros. “Unless …”
“No way. The School Master is dead!” Tedros scoffed.
“Like forever dead,” Agatha agreed.
“Like really forever dead,” said Tedros.
They goggled at each other, then back at Merlin. “Right?”
“These are the same questions I have,” said the wizard, looking troubled. “But it is up to Tedros to find the answers, since it is his test. The sooner he retrieves his sword and seals his coronation, the better. Not just for Camelot, but for the sake of the entire Woods.”
“Entire Woods?” said Tedros. “What do you mea—”
“Are you talking about the attacks in the papers, Merlin?” Agatha cut in. “I’ve been reading about problems in Ever and Never kingdoms: pirate raids in Jaunt Jolie; a poisoned wishing well in Bremen; a band of werewolves looting families in Bloodbrook … but none of it seems connected.”
“It isn’t. Just a bunch of petty crime,” said Tedros. “Leaders of neighboring kingdoms think it’s more than that, but they just want Camelot to come in and clean up their problems like Dad used to. We have our own problems, thank you. But kings and queens keep writing me letters, demanding meetings.”
“Which you clearly haven’t answered,” said Agatha. “I heard two chambermaids whispering about why you haven’t investigated the fire on Glass Mountain.”
Tedros turned to Merlin quickly. “Well, are the attacks connected? You said our classmates are having trouble on their quests. What’s happening out there in the Woods?”
“Are they okay?” Agatha pressed.
“Dear girl, maybe you’d know the answer to that if you’d been answering your letters,” the wizard replied. “Your best friend’s included.”
Tedros looked at Agatha, dumbfounded. “You haven’t written Sophie?”
Agatha’s big brown eyes turned wet.
“But why?” Tedros blurted against all better judgment. “I’m happily rid of that girl, but you two have so much history. You can’t just cut her off—”
“She seems so excited about the wedding … and you don’t,” said Agatha, choking up. “Any time I tried to write her, all I could picture is me walking down the aisle to a boy I used to share everything with and now acts as if he barely knows me. But Sophie knows me: she’d see through anything I wrote … she’d see how I was feeling … and I didn’t want anyone to know—”
She covered her face, muffling her sobs.
Tedros looked at Merlin, sitting between him and his future queen. “M, do you mind if I talk to Agatha alone?”
“Thought you’d never ask. Even wizards need the toilet,” Merlin breezed. “Just jump off when you’re finished and you’ll find yourselves back where you started.” He snatched his sleeping hat, which startled awake, spurting rainbow sprinkles, before the wizard dove off the cloud like a champion swimmer and vanished into the darkness.
Tedros scooted across the cloud, silky white fibers tickling his legs as he moved next to Agatha, who was crying into her palms. Gently he put his hand on her back.
“I love you, Agatha. No matter how stupid I can be, nothing will ever change that.”
“I could only bring myself to write one letter—to Hester—and it was full of lies. I couldn’t let anyone know how you were treating me,” Agatha sniffled. “That’s why I didn’t write anyone else or ask about their quests. Six m-m-months. You made me feel so alone.”
“I didn’t want you to worry about me,” Tedros said guiltily.
“Y-y-you made me worry more.”
“I told you I was stupid.”
“S-s-stupider than a tree s-s-stump,” Agatha piled on.
“Stupider than a tree stump,” Tedros conceded.
“Stupider than one of Rafal’s zombie villains with no brains.”
“I don’t know if I’d go that—”
“It wasn’t a question.”
Tedros smiled and rolled back his eyes zombie-style, playfully sinking his teeth into her neck. Agatha yelped and shoved him away, but she was snickering now too.
She leaned against him and clasped his arm.
“You know, I’m surprised Sophie’s still alive, let alone writing you letters,” Tedros said. “Figured Dovey would have turned her into a pumpkin by now.”
“Not sure fairy godmothers are allowed to be Evil,” said Agatha.
“But wouldn’t it be awesome if they could?”
Agatha laughed: that hissy, throaty laugh he’d missed for so long. He pulled her in closer.
“Though from Sophie’s letters, it sounds like Dovey is out of sorts,” said Agatha. “She insists it’s because Dovey’s threatened by her; Sophie claims she’s turned Evil into the hot new thing and now all the first-year Evers want to go to her side.”
“But
