Quests for Glory (The School for Good and Evil: The Camelot Years #1)

“Mind if I help?” a voice said behind Agatha.

Agatha turned to see a short, buxom black girl her age leaning against a rail, arms folded. She had a catlike face with thin eyes and sloping brows, along with springy black curls immune to the rain and a pink first-year’s Ever uniform at odds with her cold expression.

“Nicola?” Agatha said, shouting over the storm. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“And yours is Agatha, though the Agatha I’ve read about would have come and said hello so maybe that’s not your name after all,” Nicola replied. Agatha winced, but Nicola didn’t give her a chance to respond. “Steer like it’s a riptide. The wheel’s spinning left because you’re trying to go right. If you want to go right, turn the ship left.”

“AGGIE! HELP!” Sophie howled below, a seagull on her head.

Nicola narrowed her eyes. “Seagulls love the smell of hot decay. Wonder what that says about your friend.”

She turned to find Agatha gaping at her.

“I just told you how to get us out of this storm,” Nicola said.

Agatha shook her head. “Sailing in the opposite direction doesn’t make sense—”

Nicola glared harder. “Listen, I may be a first-year Reader who no one on this boat cares about, but that also means I’ve read your fairy tale and know you’re a smart girl. Smart enough to realize you’ve been trying to get us out of this storm for the past hour and have instead put us on the verge of a very watery death.”

Another tidal wave detonated onto the deck, drenching Agatha.

“One more and we’ll get to see who can hold their breath the longest,” said Nicola.

Agatha swiveled towards the wheel. “SAIL WEST!” she commanded—

The Igraine pivoted smoothly to the west for just a moment. Then the current took over, counterposing the ship east. The wooden girl on the masthead swept her lantern towards the dawn-lit clearing. In a single move, the boat broke free of the wind-trap and glided towards Avalon.

Sophie dropped like a stone to the deck, her gown blown over her head like a broken umbrella. The rest of the crew peeked up, no longer thrashing or scrambling or retching. All of their eyes honed in on the new girl, who’d just saved their necks.

Sophie was the only one who didn’t smile at her.

Nicola sauntered towards the galley in her sheepskin boots. “Is breakfast ready? Or should I take care of that too?”

“Wait! If you’re a Reader, how’d you know how to do that!” Agatha called out behind her.

“The same way I know everything,” the girl replied, without breaking stride. “I read.”

“If you’re from Gavaldon, how did we never meet?” quizzed Agatha.

“Didn’t I see you in a Never’s uniform the first day of school?” asked Hort, spooning his oatmeal.

“Why did the Storian write you into our crew?” said Willam.

“Do you even know what a fourth-year quest is?” asked Hester.

Sitting across the galley dining table painted with Camelot’s crest, Nicola picked at a soggy tower of egg and cheese. “The real question is why an enchanted pot can’t make an omelet when I was making them at six years old.”

“Think Dovey gave us a broken pot,” Bogden said, snacking on potato skins. “I asked for pancakes and it made these instead.”

“Broken pot, broken map . . . Dovey’s house certainly isn’t in order,” Dot murmured.

Nicola was midbite when she saw the ragtag Inquisition still gawking at her. “Oh, so I’ve been on this boat for hours and now I exist?”

(“BOOBESHWAR!” Sophie screeched from her cabin.)

Nicola’s lips tightened. “Well, let me answer your questions, then. Agatha, we never met in Gavaldon because you spent your time on Graves Hill and I spent mine at Papa Pipp’s Pub, helping my father cook for his customers. I knew your mother, though, since she treated Pa for his bad back. As for your friend, Sophie, she met me a few times in Gavaldon, but she doesn’t seem to remember, since girls like her only notice you if you’re useful or a threat.”

Nicola turned to Willam. “I haven’t the faintest clue why the Storian put me on your crew, though from what I can tell, maybe it’s to keep you all alive.”

Nicola turned to Hort, blushing hard. “As for why I’m now in an Ever’s uniform, that’s a long story. But I’ve read The Tale of Sophie and Agatha and you’re a lot more handsome in person than on the page—except to be honest, I’d prefer the old you before you buffed up to look like Tedros, who’s about as enticing as vanilla pudding. But even if you’re deluded about your own self-image and are hooked on blond, skinny girls, the fact I’m talking to the real Hort instead of reading about you is the only nice part of being on this boat. Especially since you didn’t answer any of my letters.”

Hort dropped his spoon.

Nicola turned to Hester. “What do I know? I know we’re on a quest to find out why your classmates’ quests are failing and prevent any more from dying. I know that the Storian says a ‘Snake’ has made its way into the Woods and is determined to take down a ‘Lion.’ And I know only Agatha seems to know what those words mean. Which is why I’m curious as to why everyone is asking me questions instead of her.”

Everyone stared at Nicola.

“Oh, this little fella told me everything,” Nicola explained, as Boobeshwar hopped from her lap, where he’d been hidden, and perched on her shoulder. “Mongooses are chatty if you rub their heads. Learned that from reading The Brave Maharajah.”

She zeroed in on Agatha. “But enough about me. Since this is now a quest that belongs to us all, I think it’s time you told us what you know about lions and snakes.”

Everyone turned to Agatha.

“There you are, Boobeshwar!” a voice rang out.

Sophie paraded in wearing a crystal-studded blue-and-white sailor’s dress and towering heels. “Sorry, I needed to freshen up and—” She tripped over a mound of weapons they’d taken from school: swords, daggers, axes, spears. “Hort, for heaven’s sakes, put these somewhere else. Can’t have warmongering in the kitchen. Shall we start breakfast? I’m famish—”

Sophie bit her lip.

The crew was already eating.

And no one was even glancing in her direction, including Hort, who was ogling Nicola as if she’d shot an arrow through his heart.

Sophie cleared her throat. “Surely it’s proper form to wait for a Dean before—”

Nicola whirled and shot her a withering look, Sophie’s mongoose on her shoulder. Then she turned back to Agatha.

“You were saying, Captain?”

Nicola wasn’t supposed to be here. Not on this ship, not at this school, not in the Woods. She should be in Gavaldon right now, working at the pub with Pa.

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