Instead, he was her employee.
Hort had no business being professor of history in the first place, since he didn’t know the slightest thing about history and was pretty sure his students knew it too but they never complained because he gave them high ranks and passed out candy every Friday. And he was also sure his students knew he was in love with Sophie, since any time she sat in on his class, they made fawning comments about his teaching, as if they’d collectively decided to be wingmen in helping him earn the Dean’s heart. It made him like his students more than he thought possible, and he’d convinced himself that his crusade to marry Sophie wasn’t just for him anymore, but for all Evil-kind.
Except now Agatha was back.
Bug-eyed, skinny-legged, helmet-haired Agatha, who made Sophie smile the way he wished he could. Agatha, who had the gall to tell him last year that Sophie would never love him.
Since then, all he’d wanted was to prove her wrong. To prove to himself . . . to his students . . . to whoever was sending those fake love letters . . . that a boy like Hort could finally get the girl.
But now none of it would happen. Because when Agatha was around, Sophie didn’t even notice him, and he always ended up running after them in some wild-goose chase like he was right now.
“Will . . . you two . . . slow down,” he wheezed, tripping over his toga, his bare feet punished by the pebbly floor as he followed them into Evil’s castle.
“So Merlin set this whole thing up? That sly dog . . . ,” Agatha was saying to Sophie while Hort scrambled to eavesdrop. “First he mentions the Igraine . . . then he chastises me for not talking to you. . . . He did it all so I’d steal the ship and come here! I thought I’d be taking on this quest alone when all the while he planned for us to do it together.”
“But why a ship, Aggie?” Sophie moaned, magically dissolving blue sludge off her and Agatha with her glowing pink finger. “I despise boats. They smell like toilets, the beds are stiff, there’s never any fresh vegetables, and it’s impossible to do yoga without falling overboard any time there’s a swell—”
“Wait until you see this ship, though. The Igraine magically steers on my command. It can turn invisible, it can fly—”
“Throw on a bandana and a pair of breeches and now you’re Whiskey Woo, the Pirate Queen,” Sophie grumped as they followed Dovey and the witches upstairs, bypassing the party in Evil Hall. “The Igraine. Good lord. Sounds like a prehistoric bird. Or a splitting headache. Well, if we’re together, I suppose I’ll muddle through. Speaking of which, where’s the other Evers? Merlin said you’d have a crew.”
“Crew?” Agatha said. “No crew. I mean, Willam’s on board, but he’s been in his cabin seasick ever since we left.”
“Willam?” Sophie asked with keen interest.
Hort scowled. He had enough boys at school to compete with, let alone boys lurking in boats. (Also, what kind of name was Willam? Sounded like the noise frogs made when they sucked down flies.) “Hold on. No crew?” Sophie asked. “But Merlin told Dovey he was sending a team of Evers tonight to join me and the coven. That together, we’d be in charge of saving our classmates’ failing quests.”
“Well, we could certainly use the help on board,” Agatha mulled, “especially since we’re overloaded with Nevers. Maybe Dovey can give us a couple of her best first years. . . . Perhaps that’s what Merlin wanted us to do for a crew. . . .”
“Then why not just tell us as much?” Sophie grouched. “Why is everything a riddle with that old prat?”
“Because these are our quests, Sophie, not his,” said Agatha.
“I still think the man’s a nosy, musty loon,” said Sophie. “But do tell me about Willam. Is he gorgeous and strong? A strapping swabbie of the high seas?”
Behind them, Hort went apoplectic red—
“I don’t think he’s your type,” Agatha chuckled.
Hort exhaled, relieved.
“To be fair, no one thought Rafal was my type either,” said Sophie as they reached the highest floor and followed Dovey and the witches onto an outdoor catwalk. Two wolf guards patrolled the walk, which stretched between the highest floor of Evil’s castle and the School Master’s tower. As she passed, Sophie gave the guards an imperious smile and flicked dust off the red-and-gold SOPHIE’S WAY sign, lit up and pointing towards the silver spire that divided the bay between Good and Evil. “Now, Aggie, for the most important question of all: What do we do about this wedding of yours?”
“Can’t be worrying about a wedding when we have to save the Woods,” Agatha said. “It would have been a challenge anyway. You’d have had to plan the whole wedding from here at school. Camelot’s castle is already a mess and Tedros doesn’t want you there romping around and causing more upheaval—”
“I see,” Sophie said archly. “Afraid I might steal his crown?”
“Um, right. I think it’s well established that you two should stay as far from each other as possible. We’ll get someone else to plan the wedding.”
“Nonsense. I’ll do it while we travel. I just need two assistants on board, a fleet of courier crows, and an unlimited budget—”
“Camelot is bankrupt, Sophie.”
“—and naturally I’ll bring Bogden as one of my assistants, so perhaps we can include another Ever to balance out our crew . . . a handsome boy like Bodhi or Laithan. . . .”
“Wedding?” Hort cried, interloping between the girls. “Twenty minutes ago, you said you were done with Agatha’s wedding. That you never wanted to think about her and Tedros again. That you were throwing your own party because you were totally over—”
Sophie thrust out her glowing finger and zipped his mouth with a spell. Stunned, Hort tried to yell through sealed lips to no avail.
“One of Lesso’s best hexes,” Sophie told Agatha. “I’ve been reading her old spellbooks during my nightly baths.”
Agatha took a deep breath. “Sorry I didn’t write you all these months, Sophie,” she said, nearing the School Master’s tower. “So much has happened since I left school.”
“The Royal Rot certainly agrees,” Sophie replied.
“Sophie!”
“Darling, you weren’t writing me and I needed news of my best friends. You didn’t expect me to read the Camelot Courier, did you? Nothing but propaganda.”
“And the Rot is any better? A tabloid that said I cursed Tedros to fall in love with me and plan to slit his throat on our wedding night, once I’m officially queen?”
Sophie snickered.
“And here I was feeling guilty I hadn’t written you,” Agatha said.
Sophie threw an arm around her. “Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? We’re together again and this time without a prince in our hair as we head off on the biggest adventure of our lives.”
Hort was grinding his teeth so loudly that the two girls glanced at each other.
“Is he really still there,” Sophie murmured.