"You're almost Trial team leader!" Hort beamed, hurrying me to our first class. "So remember. I help you and you help me. Deal?"
I didn't answer, legs heavy, breath dodgy. At sunrise, I'd wandered back to the dungeons, managing only an hour of sweaty sleep before Tedros woke me up, freshly bathed in a cut-off shirt and holding a hunk of buttered bread.
"Thought Aric would have my head for showing up at breakfast, but no one said a thing. Think they're all afraid of Peter the Barbarian after last night," the prince said, grinning at me. "Come on, mate, eat up."
Eyes coated with sleep, I squinted at the bread's oily coat of butter. My cavernous stomach was rumbling as usual, demanding anything edible, but my exhaustion was stronger. I moaned and pulled the sheets back over my shorn, fluffy hair.
"Well don't whine later," Tedros said, biting into the loaf himself. "Better get moving if you want a bath, Pete. Only ten minutes before class."
I sighed heavily and pulled into a sitting position.
"I know I was a bit of an ass when we first met, but I'm glad we're mates now," I heard Tedros say across the room. "And glad you won't be bunking my challenges anymore. Need to win today so I can get in that tower tonight. If I find the Storian myself, maybe Manley will give me a spot on the Trial team."
I felt nauseous. "So you can kill Y/n."
"So I can protect you from her."
I looked over, eyes wide.
"Along with everyone else," the prince said, as he slipped on his uniform shirt.
"Peter!"
Hort's nasal voice snapped me out of her daze.
"Do we have a deal?" he goaded me as we turned towards Evil Hall.
"Deal," I said forcefully to Hort, picking at my uniform's snug breeches. "You need to help me get back on Storian duty tonight."
"That's my Peter. Boys spreading rumors you spared Tedros from punishment last night, and I knew it couldn't be true. Tedros wagered all of us on this Trial, including you. Least we can do is teach Prince Handsome a lesson—"
"No. This is about my ranks, not anyone else's. Leave him alone."
Hort stopped dead in the hall. "You did spare him last night!"
I turned to Hort, my sharp-jawed, princely face ice-cold. "Don't think it's any of your business, frankly."
Hort gaped at me as if he'd been stabbed. Then he swallowed and forced a smile. "B-b-but—but we're still best friends though, right, Peter?"
"Of course," I said, not looking at him as I walked ahead.
"Good man," Hort gushed, skipping to catch up. "Just making sure you know who your real friend is."
***
With her last chance to find the Storian at stake, I knew I'd have to win most of the day's five challenges.
I felt palpable relief after I won the first two, especially when Hort didn't even help. I felt like I was growing into this new body. I was faster, stronger. It felt like I could do anything.
But Tedros still was barely behind me, placing second rank in both.
As I entered Professor Manley's charred classroom, focused on the next challenge, I felt the prince hang his arm over my broad shoulders.
"I'll beat you this time, Pete."
"Ah, but if I win, I'm on guard duty. Perhaps if I find the Storian, it'll stop your stupid Trial," I shot back.
"You sure did a good job of finding the Storian last night," Tedros puffed.
"Kept you alive, didn't I?" I retorted.
But Tedros was right. I placed behind him in the next two challenges.
"He's taking your top ranks, Peter," Hort grouched as we headed to the last class. "Whoever wins last Tryout wins the day. You might lose your team leader spot, Peter! We have to sabotage him—"
"I said no," I lashed so sharply Hort jumped.
With the Blue Forest off-limits until the Trial the next night, the 80 boys in Forest Fitness converged inside Evil Hall and found Albemarle perched atop a rotting chandelier.
"A simple race around the castle," the woodpecker directed, peering down at us over his spectacles. I watched a fluorescent yellow line magically shoot across the brick floor, between my legs, out the hall, and down the stairs.
"First one to follow the yellow brick road all the way back to this hall wins first rank." Albemarle rustled a small ledger from under his wing and squinted hard at it. "Based on the tally, Peter has a slim lead over Aric and Chaddick for the team leader spot and the right to choose the tenth member of the Trial team. But it's still anyone's race."
I eyed Aric, Chaddick, and the fleet of snarling boys, all crouched to a runner's lunge.
"Ready . . . ," Albemarle chirped. "Set . . ."
I felt Hort's grip on my bicep and his wet breath in my ear. "Run, Filip. Run for your life—"
"Go!"
Seventy-nine boys thundered like bulls towards the door—
I, however, remained in place until I heard the deafening crash.
Nonchalant, I crawled over the mass of moaning bodies at the door, wondering how boys had ever survived this long in nature if they didn't even have the common sense to take turns going down stairs.
By the time the first boys recovered, I had already returned to the finish line, barely breaking a sweat.
"Seems Peter really wants Storian duty, doesn't he?" smirked Castor, tramping in behind the last groaning boy.
I sighed with relief, blowing up my floppy hair. Somehow I'd find that pen tonight. I'd unearth each and every brick if I had to—
"And yet Peter didn't show up for his duties last night," the dog sneered rabidly at me. "If you think something else matters more than finding the pen that keeps our world alive, Peter, by all means, hop to it."
I straightened. "No—I just—"
"Vex, you were closest to the door. You'll take Storian duty instead," Castor snapped.
"No, no, no!" I exclaimed, aghast. "I'll do it!"
"See, Peter will do it," Vex piped, clearly unenthusiastic about a sleepless night of searching—
"Not if Peter's Trial team leader, he won't," Castor grouched, peering at Albemarle's ledger. "Even more reason Peter needs his rest tonight, if we don't want this lot to be slaves." He glowered menacingly at me. "Try to leave your bed tonight, and I'll chain you to it."
I stifled a groan of frustration, heart imploding. The Storian! I'd just lost my chance at the Storian! Ispun away from the dog.
Adrenaline blasted through my boy muscles.
I had to call Agatha.
Light a red lantern in my window and Agatha would know to get here now.
"One more thing, Peter," said Castor. "As official Trial team leader, you earned the right to choose a friend to join you in fighting Y/n's team. . . all those boys who think they've been a good enough friend to Peter to deserve a spot in the Trial, step forward now," growled Castor.
Everboys, Neverboys, and foreign princes burbled and buzzed to each other, but only one boy stepped out from the mass.
I ricocheted to attention, seeing Hort's stupid grin.
Of course. This was the deal the weasel wanted.
I inhaled, trying to slow my heartbeat. Let the cretin in, for all I cared. I'd never go into that Trial. One red lantern and Agatha would be here and we'd figure out a way home.
I started to nod at Hort, desperate to get out of this hall and light the alarm—
Until another boy stepped forward.
"I'd like to be considered too," said Tedros.
Castor kicked Hort forward with his paw. "Each of you has one chance to tell Peter why you deserve to be his choice."
Hort glared at Tedros so horribly he looked like he might burst into flames. "I should fight with Peter because I'm not a fair-weather friend who was only nice to him when I didn't get whipped." He pouted at me, pale lips quivering. "Plus I'm Peter's best friend. He said it himself."
I stared at Hort, who'd lost all his fury and now just looked like a pitiful rat.
"Well, maybe I'm not Peter's best friend," a new voice said behind me. "But I'll keep him alive."
I slowly looked up.
"What I had with Agatha was the deepest love I'd ever had," said Tedros, our eyes locking. "But Peter showed me something even deeper, like the bond of a brother I've always wanted. He isn't like us princes—rash and uptight and with our heads up our bums. He's a boy in the way a real boy's supposed to be, built of honor, valor, and heart. And maybe for the first time, he's made me understand why only death will separate Agatha from Y/n. Because I've never felt as loyal to someone, boy or girl, as I feel about him."
No one in Evil Hall made a sound.
My heart clenched. Here was a chance to regain the friend I'd once lost. To regain the brother I'd once lost.
"Tedros or Hort, Peter?" Castor said.
I steadied my breaths, squelching Tedros' echoing words. It didn't matter. Agatha would be on the way soon. The Trial wouldn't even happen.
But if it did. . . if it somehow did. . . the prince whose mission it was to kill me was now asking to be let in!
Hort.
HORT.
SAY HORT!
The name came smoothly, soundly off my tongue, and I heaved relief, raring to light a lantern and call my sister—
But as I looked up at Hort, the weasel's smile disappeared, replaced with a look of such horror and betrayal that I knew it wasn't Hort I'd named at all.
Slowly I turned.
Tedros smiled back, glowing with gratitude and affection—glowing with the promise to protect Y/n the Boy from Y/n the Girl.
Only it wasn't Tedros' glow that stopped my heart.
It was the glow over his shoulder . . .
. . . seeping through the window of the boys' hall . . .
. . . blaring far across the bay from the girls' tower . . .
. . . the glow of a red lantern, blazing with alarm . . .
And that's when I knew I'd made a terrible, terrible mistake.