My neck feels lighter, but my head feels full of stones. It would help if I couldsleep,but I can’t, and I don’t really have to—I can just sort of get by, on catnaps and magic.
I keep having to kick Penny out of my room, so she doesn’t catch on to how I’m spending my nights.
“But nobody’s using Baz’s bed,” she argues.
“Nobody’s usingyourbed,” I say.
“Trixie and Keris push the beds together when I’m not there—there’s probably pixie dust everywhere.”
“Not my problem, Penny.”
“All my problems are your problems, Simon.”
“Why?”
“Because all ofyourproblems are my problems!”
“Go to your room.”
“Simon, please.”
“Go. You’ll get expelled.”
“Only if I get caught.”
“Go.”
When Penny finally leaves, so do I.
I give up on the Catacombs and start haunting the ramparts instead.
I don’t really expect to find Baz up here—where would he hide? But at least I feel like I’ll see him coming.
Plus I like the wind. And the stars. I never get to see stars over the summer; no matter which city I end up in, there are always too many lights.
There’s a watchtower out there with a little nook inside, with a bench and a roof. I watch the Mage’s Men coming and going all night in their military truck. Sometimes I fall asleep.
***
“You look tired,” Penny says at breakfast. (Fried eggs. Fried mushrooms. Baked beans and black pudding.) “Also—” She leans over the table. “—there’s a leaf in your hair.”
“Hmmm.” I keep shovelling in my breakfast. There’ll be time for second helpings before lessons, if I hurry.
Penny reaches for my hair again, then glances at Agatha and pulls her hand back. Agatha’s always been jealous of Penny and me, no matter how many times I tell her it’s not like that. (It’sreallynot like that.)
But Agatha seems to be ignoring us both. Again. Still. We haven’t spent any time alone since our argument. Honestly, it’s been a relief. It’s one fewer person asking me if I’m okay. I put my hand on her leg and squeeze, and she turns to me, smiling with the bottom half of her face.
“Right,” Penny says. “We’re meeting tonight in Simon’s room. After dinner.”
“Meeting about what?” I ask.
“Strategy!” Penny whispers.
Agatha wakes up. “Strategy about what?”
“About everything,” Penelope says. “About the Humdrum. About the Old Families. About what the Mage’s Men are really up to. I’m tired of lying low—don’t you feel like we’re being left out?”
“No,” Agatha says. “I feel like we should be grateful for some peace.”
