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 you think it’s something more sinister?”
“I’m sure Dovey wouldn’t mind if a stymph dropped Sophie on her head, but I doubt she’d get too worked up over a former student’s theatrics. Plus, you heard what Merlin said. If our classmates are having trouble on their quests, Dovey has her hands full. The Deans are responsible for all fourth years once they leave for their missions. Especially with no new School Master in place.”
“Wouldn’t Sophie have mentioned something in her letters? She’s Dean too.”
“It doesn’t make sense, does it?” Agatha agreed. “What do you think is happening out there that has Dovey stressed?”
“And Merlin worried?” said Tedros.
“And why would it be connected to you not pulling your dad’s sword?” said Agatha.
Tedros glanced away, tensing, and he could feel Agatha tighten too, knowing she’d said the wrong thing. He didn’t want to talk about the sword with her. Not just because it made him feel inadequate, but because he didn’t want her pity.
“I’m still imagining what Lance would look like if Merlin turned him into a girl,” said Agatha, mercifully changing the subject.
“No way Merlin would go for it,” said Tedros. “Lance would make such a beastly female that it would only call attention to itself.”
“You were a pretty beastly female yourself, Essa.”
“Wasn’t I the one who had boys whistling at me in the halls?”
“Boys who like their girls hulking, hairy, and belligerent.”
“Now you’re just jealous.”
“Well, if you want to be a girl so badly, maybe you should plan the wedding,” Agatha teased.
“Honestly, I found it sexist too at first: the new king focuses on governance, his princess on the wedding,” said Tedros. “But the more I thought about it, the more I realized traditions exist for a reason. I grew up in Camelot. The people have known me since I was a baby. You, on the other hand, are brand-new to them. The kingdom knows nothing about you. Planning the wedding is your coronation test.”
“And I want to pass it with flying colors, not for me, but for the both of us,” Agatha said earnestly. “But I’d rather be helping you.”
Tedros exhaled. “Help me manage our debts to other kingdoms that will take centuries to repay? Or help me find out where all Camelot’s gold went when the three advisors who handled this gold refuse to speak to me? Or help me fight rampant thieving by the poor, even though it helps them survive? Which would you like to help me with?”
“All of it. Any of it,” Agatha said. “I know how hard it is—”
“No, you don’t,” he said. “You can’t know how hard it is to watch your father’s kingdom turn its back on Good.”
“Just like you can’t know how hard it is to watch your one true love turn his back on you,” said Agatha.
Tedros didn’t argue.
Finally he looked at her, tears gleaming. “You really want to help me, Agatha? Then tell me how to pull my sword out of that stone. Tell me how to pass my father’s test.” He wiped his nose. “Why do you think I’ve been avoiding you? I knew this would happen. I knew I’d break down and ask you for help. Can’t even finish my coronation on my own. Maybe Merlin’s right. Maybe the sword doesn’t want me to be king.” He slouched into a sealed-off ball. “Not now. Not ever.”
He felt Agatha’s hand slide across his back and wrap him into her. She tipped his face upwards.
“Who says a good king can’t get help when he needs it most?”
His eyes met hers and a wall inside him crumbled, feelings rushing through. How had he gone this long without coming to her—she, the only person who ever truly understood him?
“I can see him looking at me in my dreams. My father,” said Tedros. “Staring at me as if he knows why I’ve failed. He’s part of this and I don’t know how.”
Agatha wasn’t listening; she was deep in thought, already pouncing on his ask for help.
“Let’s be smart about this,” she said. “Merlin had two theories: either the sword wants you to prove you’re king or the sword is being controlled by someone who doesn’t want you to be king. In any case, grabbing at the sword day after day isn’t going to get us anywhere.”