MAXINE

Part 5

The gates parted magically, opening a thin gap.

"Thanks, fairy godmother," Anadil sighed in relief. "Wherever you are."

She tossed Dovey's wand to Merlin and the wizard jammed Agatha and Tedros through before the bars slammed tight behind the intruders. Together, Agatha and Tedros swiveled to see Merlin on the other side of the deadly gates.

"Midnight," said the wizard. "Do not fail."

Then he pulled off his hat and jumped through its brim like a genie into a lamp, before the hat vanished too with a thundering crack.

For Agatha and Tedros, being trapped in a witches' dorm room was a lot like being trapped in a house on Graves Hill.

The first few hours they simply didn't speak. Each claimed a bed—Agatha took Hester's, Tedros' took Dot's—with Anadil's between them like a castle moat. Neither even acknowledged the other, partly because they were embarrassed by their new bodies, but more because both had a lot of thinking to do. Hugging a moldy pillow, Agatha mulled every possible path into the School for Old—Halfway Bridge, sewers between castles, tree tunnels in the Clearing, or a long slog around the bay—while Tedros, charred pillow over his face, racked his brain for ways to get Sophie alone.

Soon Agatha heard neighbors returning after sessions, then complaining about dinner (stewed sardines and cabbage, she gathered, leaving her extra thankful for Merlin's magic hat), and before she knew it, the wintry light had dimmed through the window, melting into nighttime. Agatha lit Hester's claw-shaped candle on the nightstand and pored over some of the witch's books (Advanced Spells for Suffering, Why Villains Fail, Frequent Witch Mistakes) hoping she'd find something useful. Tedros, meanwhile, was scribbling at Dot's desk in the dark, balling up pages every ten seconds, breaking quills in frustration, and cursing loudly in his boy voice.

Agatha ignored him and focused on her task. Her best bet was Halfway Bridge, she thought. It's how she'd broken into both the School for Evil and the School for Boys. Surely she could find her way into the School for Old the same wa—

Tedros broke another quill.

"Oh for God's sake. What are you writing?"

Tedros slouched, like a maiden failing to spin straw into gold. "Figured I should write down all the things I want to say to Sophie, but there's so much I don't know where to start."

"You'll think of something," Agatha grumbled, nose still in her book.

"If you haven't noticed, I'm crap under pressure."

Agatha glanced up at him, her prince's earnest, puppy-dog eyes blinking through his girl's face. Strangely, he'd never looked more adorable.

"What happened to 'I'll know what to do when the times comes?'" she asked.

"I know what to do when I'm with you. Never really thought I'd be rescuing her on my own. No matter how much I acted like it."

Agatha blushed and went back to her book. "You've never been at a loss for words when it comes to Sophie. You flirted with her when she was a girl . . . when she was a boy . . . I'm sure you'll be charming her in no time."

"I was me both of those times. This is different." Tedros stretched his arms and climbed onto Anadil's middle bed. "Besides, I already have a princess. Even though she picks fights with me for no reason."

"And I have a prince who doesn't listen to me and always thinks he's right," Agatha snapped.

"Because you act like you don't need me half the time."