“You seem … down or something.”

“Yes, I’m down. I’m down, Snow.” Baz raised his head and spun his chair toward Simon. He really did look terrible. His eyes were sunken and shot with blood. “I’ve spent the last six years living with the most self-centered, insufferable prat ever to carry a wand. And now, instead of celebrating Christmas Eve with my beloved family, drinking mulled cider and eating toasted cheese—instead of warming my hands at my ancestral hearth … I’m playing a tortured extra in the bloody Simon Snow Show.”

Simon stared at him. “It’s Christmas Eve?”

“Yes…,” Baz groaned.

Simon walked around his bed glumly. He hadn’t realized it was Christmas Eve. He’d have thought that Agatha would have called him. Or Penelope …

Levi sighed. “Penelope.”

Cath read on.

Maybe his friends were waiting for Simon to call them. He hadn’t even bought them gifts. Lately, nothing had seemed as important as finding the white hares. Simon clenched his square jaw. Nothing was as important; the whole school was in danger. There must be some pattern he wasn’t seeing. He quickened his step. The stone in the tower, the stained glass window, the sigil, the Mage’s book …

“I give up,” Baz whined. “I’m going to go drown myself in the moat. Tell my mother I always knew she loved me best.”

Simon stopped pacing at Baz’s desk. “Do you know how to get down to the moat?”

“I’m not actually going to kill myself, Snow. Sorry to disappoint.”

“No. It’s just … you use the punts sometimes, don’t you?”

“Everyone does.”

“Not me,” Simon said. “I can’t swim.”

“Really…,” Baz hissed with a hint of his old vigor. “Well, you wouldn’t want to swim in the moat anyway. The merwolves would get you.”

“Why don’t they bother the boats?”

“Silver punt poles and braces.”

“Will you take me out on one?” It was worth a try. The moat was one of the only places left in the school that Simon hadn’t searched.

“You want to go punting with me?” Baz asked.

“Yes,” Simon said, tilting his chin up. “Will you do it?”

“Why?”

“I … want to see what it’s like. I’ve never done it—why does it matter? It’s Christmas Eve, and you obviously don’t have anything better to do. Apparently even your parents can’t stand to be around you.”

Baz stood suddenly, his grey eyes glinting dangerously in the shadow of his brow. “You know nothing about my parents.”

Simon stepped back. Baz had a few inches on him (for now), and when Baz made an effort, he could seem dangerous.

“I’m … look, I’m sorry,” Simon said. “Will you do it?”

“Fine,” Baz said. The flare of anger and energy had already faded. “Get your cloak.”

Cath glanced over at Levi. His eyes were still closed. After a second, he opened one. “Is it over?”

“No,” she said. “I just didn’t know if you wanted me to go on. I mean, you get the idea.”

Levi closed his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t be stupid. Keep going.”

Cath looked at him for another second. At the lines in his forehead and the scruff of dark blond hair along his jaw. His mouth was small, but bowed. Like a doll’s. She wondered if he had trouble opening it wide enough to eat apples.

“Your madness must be catching,” Baz complained, untangling a rope.

The boats were stacked and tied off for the winter. Simon hadn’t been thinking about the cold.… “Shut up,” he said anyway. “It’ll be fun.”

“That’s the point, Snow—since when do we have fun together? I don’t even know what you do for fun. Teeth-whitening, I assume. Unnecessary dragon-slaying—”

“We’ve had fun before,” Simon argued. Because he didn’t know how to do anything with Baz but argue—and because surely Baz was wrong. In six years, they must have shared some fun. “There was that time in third year when we fought the chimaera together.”

“I was trying to lure you there,” Baz said. “I thought I’d get away from the thing before it attacked.”

“Still, it was fun.”

“I was trying to kill you, Snow. And on that note, are you sure you want to do this? Alone with me? On a boat? What if I shove you over? I could let the merwolves solve all my problems.…”

Simon twisted his lips to one side. “I don’t think you will.”

“And whyever not?” Baz cast off the last of the ropes.

“If you really wanted to get rid of me,” Simon said thoughtfully, “you would have by now. No one else has had as many opportunities. I don’t think you’d hurt me unless it played into one of your grand plans.”

“This could be my grand plan,” Baz said, shoving one of the punts free with a grunt.

“No,” Simon said. “This one is mine.”

“Aleister Crowley, Snow, are you going to help me with this or what?”

They carried the boat down to the water, Baz swinging the punt pole lightly. Simon noticed for the first time the silver plating at one end.

“Snowball fights,” he said, following Baz’s lead as they settled the boat in the water.

“What?”

“We’ve had lots of snowball fights. Those are fun. And food fights. That time I spelled gravy up your nose…”

“And I put your wand in the microwave.”

“You destroyed the kitchen,” Simon laughed.

“I thought it would just swell up like a marshmallow Peep.”

“There was no reason to think that.…”

Baz shrugged. “Don’t put a wand in the microwave—lesson learned. Unless it’s Snow’s wand. And Snow’s microwave.”

Simon was standing on the dock now, shivering. He really hadn’t considered how cold it would be out here. Or the fact that he’d actually have to get into a boat. He glanced down at the cold, black water of the moat and thought he saw something heavy and dark moving below the surface.

“Come on.” Baz was already in the punt. He jabbed Simon’s shoulder with the pole. “This is your grand plan, remember?”

Simon set his jaw and stepped in. The boat dipped beneath his weight, and he scrabbled forward.

Baz laughed. “Maybe this will be fun,” he said, sinking the pole into the water and shoving off. Baz looked perfectly comfortable up there—a long, dark shadow at the end of the punt—as elegant and graceful as ever. He shifted into the moonlight, and Simon watched him take a slow, deep breath. He looked more alive than he had in weeks.

But Simon hadn’t come out here to watch Baz—God knows he had plenty of other opportunities. Simon turned, looking around the moat, taking in the carvings along the stone walls and the tile at the water’s edge. “I should have brought a lantern…,” he said.

“Too bad you’re not a magician,” Baz replied, conjuring a ball of blue flame and tossing it at Simon’s head. Simon ducked and caught it. Baz had always been better than he was at fire magic. Show-off.

The tile glittered in the light. “Can we get closer to the wall?” Simon asked. Baz obliged smoothly.

Up close, Simon could see there was a mosaic that stretched beneath the water. Wizard battles. Unicorns. Symbols and glyphs. Who knew how far down it went.… Baz guided them slowly along the wall, and Simon held the light up, gradually leaning over the side of the boat to get a better look.

He forgot about Baz in a way he normally wouldn’t allow himself to do outside the protection of their room. Simon didn’t even notice at first when the boat drifted to a stop. When he looked back, Baz had stepped toward him in the punt. He was curled above Simon, washed blue by his own conjured fire, his teeth bared and his face thick with decision and disgust.…

The door flew open.

Reagan always kicked it as soon as she had it unlocked; there were dusty shoe prints all over the outside of their door. She swept in, dropping her bags on the floor. “Hey,” she said, glancing over at them.

“Quiet,” Levi whispered. “Cath’s reading fanfiction.”

“Really?” Reagan looked at them with more interest.