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

“Cut off their arms!” commanded another.

Young pirates with swords advanced. Agatha and Nicola recoiled, dragging the rest of the crew with them. There was nowhere to go. All nine members of the group backed up against a wall, shadows of pirate blades rising over them. Fingerglows burnt bright behind the kids’ backs as they tried to melt each other’s cuffs. . . . Hester’s demon screeched and tore at his chains. . . . But it was too late. Swords slashed down— “Yoo-hoo! Boys!”

Hands behind her back, Sophie shimmied her ruffly blue dress and started high-kicking— “I’m Whiskey Woo, the pirate queen!

Whiskey Woo!

Whiskey Woo!

I’m Whiskey Woo, the pirate queen!

Whiskey Woo!

Whiskey Woo!”

Pirates held their swords, eyes big as gold coins.

Sophie kicked higher, flashing her bloomers and a pearly white smile. “I’m Whiskey Woo, the pirate queen! Whiskey Woo! Whiskey W—”

She saw the pirates’ faces and slowly stopped singing.

The pavilion went silent as a tomb.

Somewhere a parrot squawked.

“Blimey. That’s aworst shanty I ever ’eard,” Wesley spat.

“Bottom of the barrel,” said tattooed Thiago.

“Don’t deserve the word ‘barrel,’” said the fat pirate.

Agatha’s palms dripped. She could see Sophie flush-faced, knowing she’d just doomed them all— Then like a sun ripping through clouds, the boys exploded into laughter.

“Might be pretty, but she’s stupid as a nut!” the handsome pirate howled.

“Don’t git too close or you might turn stupid too!” the runty one whooped. “Put that inna school handbook!”

“Feel sorry for ’er students! Their Dean’s a dope!” the fat one sniggered.

Sophie gaped at them, red as a beet.

“Get these clods to the Snake,” Wesley snarled, shaking his head. “Faster ye get ’em out of our sight, the faster we’re rid of ’em for good.”

“Whiskey Woo! Whiskey Woo!” his mates mocked.

Eager to deliver their bounties, the horsebound pirates whipped the kids on towards the castle. Agatha stared at Sophie, speechless.

“I saved us, didn’t I?” Sophie retorted.

As they filed out of the pavilion, they could hear pirates still jeering: “Whiskey Woo! Whiskey Woo!”

“A good laugh is worth its weight in gold!” Sophie called back at them angrily. “Better up that bounty on me now! A solid thousand, I’d say, wouldn’t you?”

“Whiskey Woo! Whiskey Woo!” the pirates ragged.

Nicola whispered to Agatha. “At least we have our noses.”

“She can’t outsmart the Snake by being a fool, Nicola!” Agatha hissed, straining against her cuffs. “Your shanty was right. Sophie can get him to take off his mask, but only if he likes her. How is she going to make him like her? With a limerick and a cha-cha?”

“Leave it to me. I’ll help her,” Nicola whispered.

“Yeah, right. You don’t know Sophie like I do—”

“This isn’t just your fairy tale anymore, Agatha,” Nicola said sharply.

Agatha was quiet.

“Listen,” said Nicola. “Ever since I got to the Woods, I’ve thought my real life was back in Gavaldon. But the Storian wrote all of us into this quest for a reason, including me. And the only way I’ll find out why I’m on this quest is if you let me be a part of it.” Her dark eyes softened. “Maybe you already have a best friend, Agatha. Maybe you don’t have room in your story for any more. But I have room in mine. Let me help you.”

Agatha searched the first year’s face. All this time, she thought she was the captain of this fairy tale. The only one who could steer them to a new happy ending, as if it were a mappable port on the shore. That’s another reason she’d left Tedros behind. Because in her toughest moments, Agatha trusted herself and herself alone.

And yet . . . maybe that’s why she could never find a happy ending that lasted.

She looked into Nicola’s eyes.

“Friends?” the first year asked.

“Friends,” said Agatha, a warm feeling spreading through her.

Together, the two girls raised their gaze to the castle, the chain pulling them towards its doors.

The warmth inside Agatha went cold.

A Snake was waiting.





16


TEDROS


Riddles and Mistrals


As Tedros swept through the White Tower, veering into dead ends and going round in circles, he kept passing the same square-jawed guard, smirking in his blue-and-gold uniform, daring him to ask for directions.



Tedros insisted to Lancelot he could meet the advisors without Lance taking him there. The knight demanded to come along, wary of a king treading into the dungeons on his own, but Tedros shoved past him, ordering him to stay behind. First of all, the advisors had made it clear they wanted to see him alone. Second, he didn’t want to admit he hadn’t a clue where the prison was after a lifetime of living in Camelot and six months of ruling it. And third, he was done passing the buck to others. On his first night in the castle, when the advisors had refused to see him, he’d let Lancelot throw them in jail instead of doing it himself.

But tonight he’d right that wrong. When it came to these advisors, this coming meeting felt personal.

He’d been roaming the White Tower for nearly an hour now, but the reddish torchlight made every hall look the same. Any time he opened a door it went wrong: a storage space filled with broken weapons . . . a steward undressing in his quarters . . . a laundry maid in the midst of ironing, so spooked at the sight of him she burnt through his shirt. . . . It was futile guesswork: the only part of White Tower that Tedros knew was the strange guest room his father had built on the second floor, which he kept returning to every few minutes like a rat restarting a maze.

Reaper could have shown me the way, Tedros thought, aware he was longing for a creature he’d often imagined falling into a lit fireplace. The cat seemed to know every nook and cranny of this castle. But after he’d kicked him in the guest room this morning, Reaper had vanished, no longer compelled to protect the king.

“Lost, Your Highness?” said the square-jawed guard as he passed.

“If I was, I’d ask,” said Tedros. “Especially since guards don’t speak to kings unless they’re spoken to first.”

The guard bolted to attention, spear to his chest.

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