The Last Ever After (29 page)

“If only the role of Bride of Frankenstein hadn't already been played,” said Agatha.

“Aggie, my darling! My poopsie! You don't know what it was like!” cried Sophie, collapsing into her arms. “I never said I wouldn't do it. All I said is I needed a little
time
. And then they descended on me like wolves! Here I am, tickled pink to meet my childhood heroes, and instead Tinkerbell is stinging me, shrieking like a dog whistle, Hansel and Gretel are goosing me with wheelchairs and yammering in that Teutonic accent, Peter Pan is jabbing me with a cane and lecturing me on civic responsibility, and even Merlin—Merlin, who in storybooks is wise and just and kind—shoves Excalibur into my hands as the others yank and peck at me like magpies, trying to get the ring off my finger! And then!
Then!
That monstrous Cinderella corners me, stinking of a mummy untombed, and threatens in no uncertain terms to sit on me! Yes, you heard me, Agatha. A legendary princess threatening to put her voluminous buttocks upon my face and keep them there until I smash the ring. And you wonder why I find old people so repulsive! Well, now that ring is staying on my finger until kingdom come, you hear me? I will not reward bullying, terrorism, and worst of all, poor manners!”

Agatha was long used to Sophie's overblown monologues, but this one even left her pop-eyed.

“Sophie,” Agatha said, attempting to collect herself. “Their
lives
are at stake.
All
of our lives are at stake. The School Master
is rewriting famous fairy tales so Evil wins. Every old story Evil makes new brings him and his army one step closer to Gavaldon. That's where he'll destroy Good once and for all.”

“Gavaldon? What does the School Master want with Gavaldon?” Sophie asked, picking at a plate of bacon on the floor. “Do you think I can trade this for a kale omelet?”

“Sophie!” Agatha seized her friend's shoulders. “This is a boy who stabbed you through the heart, nearly hacked Tedros in half, came back from the grave, and has a school of two hundred undead villains fighting for him. It doesn't matter what the School Master wants with Gavaldon. We don't want to find
out
.”

Sophie gulped.

“So listen,
poopsie
. I'm going to get Excalibur and you're going to smash that ring just like you promised,” Agatha said firmly. “Right here and now, with no one watching but me. Got it?” She grabbed the curtain to leave—

“I can't.”

Agatha let go of the curtain.

“I can't do it, Aggie,” Sophie whispered behind her. There was a steel to her voice, the frippery and friendliness gone.

Agatha slowly turned.

Sophie's face was a strange, tense mask, as if she'd prepared for this moment but was struggling how to play it.

“This isn't about manners, is it?” said Agatha.

Sweat beaded Sophie's brow. “I have dreams, Aggie. Dreams of this . . . man. A devil-faced man who I've never seen before. But if I try to destroy the ring, he kills me.”

“Dreams? That's what's stopping you?” Agatha groaned in relief. She'd been sure it was something far worse.

“No, Aggie. This man in the dreams
knows
me. I can see it in his eyes,” Sophie said, her voice still unsteady. “He's telling me I can't destroy the ring. At least not yet.”

“It's just a dream, Sophie. Dreams aren't real.”

“Before I ever came to school, I dreamed a beautiful, frost-haired boy would love me and that was real. I dreamed of you as my Nemesis and that was real too,” said Sophie. “Dreams aren't just dreams, Agatha. Not in this world.”

Agatha took in Sophie's anguished face. “So what are you telling me, then.”

Sophie caressed the ring on her finger. “I know why the man stops me. He wants me to make sure it's right. Just like you and I agreed to make sure it's right back at school. Once I know it's right, I can destroy the ring.”

“You're blathering, Sophie,” said Agatha, exasperated. “Once you know
what
's right—”

But now she saw Sophie wasn't caressing the ring on her finger. Sophie was caressing the name tattooed beneath it.

TEDROS.

Tedros.

Tedros.

Slowly Agatha's eyes widened, the rules of the game dawning on her.

Sophie would destroy the School Master's ring only once she had the thing worth destroying it for.

And not before.

“Aggie?”

Agatha looked up and saw Sophie watching Tedros through a slit in the curtain.

“It must have been hard to let your prince go. But it was
your
idea to start over, wasn't it? You agreed to give Tedros up. You agreed to give the three of us a clean slate to find love,” Sophie said defensively. “And now all can still come to a happy end, Aggie . . . because of you.”

Agatha's heart stoppered her throat. “It doesn't matter what I agreed. You promised to destroy the ring as soon as we left school—”

Sophie turned back to Agatha. “I'll destroy the ring. I'll kill Rafal like I promised. And all your Good friends, Old and New, will be safe forever,” she said. “But I need Tedros to give me a chance like
he
promised. I need him to . . . kiss me. Because once he kisses me, he'll know I'm his queen.”

Agatha couldn't speak, for she understood perfectly.

To save Good, she had to help Sophie kiss her prince.

To save Good, she had to help her best friend take her Ever After.

“But—but that's
cheating
!” Agatha fought, anger swelling. “You think you can blackmail me? What about what I want? What Tedros wants? You can't change what people feel!”

Sophie held her gaze. “I love you so much, Agatha. And I know how much you love Teddy. . . . But you? A
queen
?”

Agatha's anger seeped away.

“I saw the way you looked at him in that tower, Aggie,” said Sophie. “You won't have Tedros to yourself anymore as
a queen. You'll have to share him with an entire kingdom for the rest of your life. Just think: thousands of eyes on you, every second of every day, watching your every move, picking out every flaw, telling you that you aren't good enough. . . . Everyone will have their claws out for you, like Gavaldon all over again, only a thousand times worse. Tedros will spend every waking moment defending why he chose you as his queen instead of doing
real
Good as king. You'll close yourself off to protect him. You'll doubt whether he's happy. And it'll only be a matter of time before Tedros doubts you too. The tension will fester, the two of you at each other's throats, forgetting why you ever thought you were in love at all. And before long, Aggie, you'll steal away from Camelot in the middle of the night and set yourself free—just like Guinevere did, leaving your king all alone. Imagine what that would do to Tedros. To end up like his father, lonely and humiliated. It'd
kill
him.” Sophie moved closer. “You can't be his queen, Agatha. You don't want to be. For his sake.”

Agatha recoiled, breathless. “This isn't about me—this is about the ring . . . about your promise—”

Sophie touched her shoulder. “I know you'll want to tell him all of this. Maybe he'll even lie for you and pretend to give me a chance . . . but I'll know if he's faking it, Aggie. I'll know if his kiss is for real. So if you want the ring destroyed, I need you to help me win his heart—”

Agatha spun away, lurching for the curtain, but Sophie held her back. “When our storybook closes, you'll see this is how it was meant to be from the beginning. Tedros and me, King and
Queen of Camelot. You, our faithful friend and savior of Good, happy on your own like you used to be,” she said. “I know what you must be thinking. That I'm still a witch. That I'm still Evil. But how else can three people have a happy ending? You never wanted to be a princess like I did. You never wanted a fairy tale or a boy's love or anything to do with boys at all. That's when you were happiest, Aggie. Never caring what people thought of you, never doubting yourself, never answering to anyone but yourself. . . . Don't you see? This is how each of us gets what matters most to us. This is the ending that
feels
right. The last Ever After to our fairy tale.” She reached up, fingers shaking, and stroked her friend's cheek. “Look at me, Agatha . . .”

“Get away from me—” Agatha gasped, strangling for air. She broke free and fumbled at the curtains, grasping at the opening, only to tangle up in the fabric and crash through, face-planting in cave sand.

“Coulda talked louder for us,” Peter Pan's voice grouched.

Agatha wiped away sand to see the entire League gathered behind Hort's body barrier, pretending not to eavesdrop.

“Old people don't have the best of ears, dear,” Riding Hood chided. “Couldn't hear a word.”

The others murmured agreement.

Then Agatha glimpsed Merlin in the far corner, tight-faced and tugging at his beard. Maybe no one else in the League had gleaned her and Sophie's conversation. But the wizard heard everything.

“So?” asked a deep voice.

It was Tedros, smiling hopefully next to Princess Uma.

“Is Sophie ready to do it?” he asked. “Is she ready to destroy the ring?”

Agatha saw him smile wider, convinced she'd accomplished what he couldn't. For all their fights and failings, her prince still trusted her more than he trusted himself. Agatha's heart melted. In this single, terrible moment, she loved him more than ever before.

Tedros saw the change in her face and his smile wavered. “Or . . . are we moving on to new hideouts?”

Over his shoulder, Agatha could see Yuba the Gnome tacking storybooks to the far wall. More old tales, at least ten of them, open to their last pages, new endings illuminated. Fair princesses slain, valiant princes gutted, clever children eaten . . .

Agatha's legs jellied.

The School Master was working faster now.

Old villains were on the hunt.

Agatha lowered her eyes to the League of Thirteen, all watching her intently—the greatest heroes of Good, in mortal danger of losing everything they'd worked for to Evil.

Was her Ever After worth all of theirs?

Was her own happiness worth so many lives?

And would she even be happy if she fought Sophie for Tedros?

Just like Guinevere
, a voice echoed.

Just like Guinevere.

A sparkle of green distracted her from her thoughts, and
in Cinderella's mirror Agatha spotted the reflection of a single emerald eye spying on Tedros through the curtain.

Old villains on the hunt indeed.

Agatha waited for the fire to burn inside of her . . . the mettle to fight Sophie for her prince . . .

But it never came.

For as Agatha looked at thirteen heroes who needed her, she knew Sophie was right. She couldn't risk their lives by striving for a crown she doubted to her very core . . . for a kingdom she would inevitably fail . . . for a king who would see he'd made a terrible mistake.

How could she fight for something her heart didn't even want? Especially when there was a greater fight to be won?

It's why Sophie had known all along that Agatha would agree to her terms.

Because Agatha could never be Tedros' queen, no matter how much she loved him.

And because Sophie knew that deep, deep down, in the pit of her soul, Agatha was Good. And when put to the test, Agatha would sacrifice everything to stay true to that Good.

Even if it meant surrendering her battle to win the war.

Even if it meant giving up her prince.

Even if it meant her prince giving up her.

Slowly Agatha looked up at Tedros, holding back tears.

“We're moving on,” she said.

22
Everything Old Is New Again

B
y the time the weak warmth of sunrise left League Headquarters, the League was gone too.

Agatha stood with Merlin under a fungus-infected oak a few paces from the entrance hole, watching twelve old heroes go their separate ways into the Woods, satchels of clothes, food, and drink weighing down their backs. Peter Pan, Tinkerbell, and Cinderella journeyed to the west, Pinocchio and Red Riding Hood to the east, Jack and Briar Rose to the north, and Uma, Yuba, and the White Rabbit to the south, with Hansel and Gretel wheeling their rickety chairs behind them.

Tedros sidled up to Agatha. “Just when I was starting to feel fond of the old farts,” he said, shivering in his unlaced shirt.
“You think we'll ever see them again, Merlin?”

“I hope so, dear boy. Because it will mean we're still alive,” said the wizard, pulling two black cloaks from his hat and handing him one. “In the meantime, there are bigger questions to be answered.” Merlin fixed subtly on Agatha. “Like when Sophie will destroy the ring.”

“What do you think she's waiting for?” Tedros asked, struggling to button his tight cloak. “Um, are you sure this one's
mine
?”

Agatha stared at Merlin, silently asking whether they should tell Tedros the truth. Tell him Sophie had lied about destroying the ring. Tell him she wouldn't kill the School Master until he kissed her and saw what he'd been missing . . . until he took her as Camelot's queen . . .

But Merlin pressed his lips together, his eyes dulling, and Agatha knew what the wizard was thinking.

Sophie had warned her. She'd know if Tedros was faking his interest before he ever said a word. And if she did . . . there'd be no way back.

No
, thought Agatha. If Sophie was to destroy the ring, she'd have to get Tedros for real.

Her gut twisted tighter.

Meaning Tedros has to fall in love with her for real.

“Well?” Tedros pushed, subduing his last button with a growl. “What is she waiting for?”

Your lips on hers
, Agatha thought.
Your lips that kissed me on hers, your lips that taste like vanilla clouds on hers, your lips you vowed to me “Forever” on hers.

Agatha turned. “She needs a safe place where she can rest and think,” she said quickly. “That's what all of us need, to be honest.”

“Relax, worrywart,” said Tedros, massaging her shoulder. “I know you're not much of a liar, but this isn't grand theater. Just act insecure around me, like you don't know if you can be happy as my queen, and I'll act like I'm struggling to choose between you and her.”

Agatha stared at him.

“M, you said the safe house is beyond the Frostplains?” Tedros asked. “That's a two-day journey northeast.”

“And the trail's quite narrow through the Never Lands,” Merlin added. “Given there are four of you now, we certainly can't travel in a pack with the Dark Army on the hunt . . .” He looked at Agatha keenly. “Which means we'll have to travel two by two, with each pair a good ways behind to avoid drawing attention.”

“Fair enough,” Tedros surmised, clutching Agatha by the wrist. “You lead the way, M, and I'll walk with—”

“Yoo-hoo, here I am!”

Tedros and Agatha spun to see two muscular arms thrust Sophie out of the cave hole like a dancer bursting out of a birthday cake. She bustled towards them in a belly-baring fire-red blouse, a black leather miniskirt, a billowing bearskin coat, and baby-pink fur booties.

Tedros' cloak buttons popped open.

Agatha dropped her satchel.

“Sorry, darlings, I needed time to wash this morning out
of my hair. Managed a bit of creative costuming with the curtain fabric, den rugs, and Cinderella's sewing kit. Turns out that hulk of a woman is willing to trade
anything
for leftover bacon,” Sophie vamped as Hort crawled out of the cave behind her. “Now, what were you saying about pairing off? I remember when Teddy and I sat on a balcony over the Blue Forest and he told me about all these beautiful sights in the Woods. I was a boy then, of course. But now I'm a girl and he can show them to me firsthand—”

She stopped because she could see the prince trying not to look at her.

“It's the clothes, isn't it?” she said, blushing. “I just thought it's been a while since I could actually be myself—”

“No. You look really, really good. Trust me,” Tedros said, forcing eye contact. “But I'm pairing up with Agatha. Merlin can set the pace ahead of us and you can follow with the weasel at a distance. He is your bodyguard, isn't he?”

Sophie's face fell. “Oh yes, that does makes sense, doesn't it?”

She looked at Agatha for the first time since they'd met behind the curtain. But there was no apology on Sophie's face, no sign of the guilt-racked Sophie who'd tried to justify taking her prince. Instead, Sophie gazed hopefully at Agatha, as if they were old friends working towards a new goal.

“It's just . . . ,” Sophie started, “I'm quite sure Agatha would prefer you walk with me.”

“What?” Tedros snorted.

Agatha glared back at Sophie, suppressing the instinct
to bash her head with a rock. Because Agatha knew Sophie was right: this was the decisive moment. If Sophie walked the trail alone with Tedros, then by the time they reached the safe house in two days, she could be that much closer to earning his kiss. That much closer to killing the School Master.

That is, as long as Tedros wasn't still holding on to his old princess.

“Agatha?” Tedros said, frowning.

She could see Merlin's eyes on her between Sophie and the prince. She couldn't dare waver. It was like a bandage. She had to commit to the pain and rip it off.

“Yes,” she said on a breath. “Take Sophie with you, Tedros. I'll keep Merlin company.”

Tedros' cheeks pinked, like an instant sunburn. “But Merlin loves to be alone! It doesn't make any sense. Agatha, this is two days in the toughest part of the Woods, with villains on the loose and sleeping in close quarters and protecting each other from whatever we might face—”

Agatha's expression didn't change. Tedros grabbed her by the arm, hissing in her ear so Sophie couldn't hear: “Listen, I know we said to pretend, but this is going too far! I'm your prince and I'm not letting you out of my sight. We need to be together—”

Agatha pulled away.

Now Tedros saw it in her face. That same halting expression he'd seen in the tower.

“Oh my God. You meant it for real, didn't you? You're questioning our happy ending for real,” he whispered, his eyes
wide. “But we're so close—Camelot's waiting for us—”

Agatha tried not to look at him, focusing instead on Sophie behind him . . . on the ring circling her finger . . . on the thousand of Good lives depending on that ring. “You and I had our time together, Tedros, and I'm not sure me being your queen will make either of us happy,” she forced, turning from him so Sophie would hear. “Sophie took a lethal risk to leave school with you. You and she need space to get to know each other again.”

Stunned, Tedros looked at ravishing Sophie, ogling him with a princess's ardor . . . then at Agatha, rigid in her black cloak. “You can't mean that!” he fought back. “You don't want all of Camelot to see you standing next to me in your crown? You don't want to be the face of a kingdom as its rightful queen?”

Agatha shook her head. “No,” she rasped. “I don't.”

It wasn't even a lie.

Tedros' hurt froze to ice. He matched her expression, stiff and guarded. “You're right. Maybe Sophie and I do need some time together,” he said, and took Sophie's arm tight under his, his eyes searing Agatha the whole time. “Come on, Sophie. Let's go.”

Sophie couldn't have looked happier. She smiled at Agatha gratefully—the same smile she had first year when Agatha promised to help her get Tedros' kiss.

Agatha didn't smile back. She plowed ahead on the trail so brusquely that Merlin had to hike up his robes and scurry after her.

As Sophie and Tedros dropped behind, Agatha could hear Sophie's voice lowered: “Odd that Aggie still calls you Tedros. Would have thought you two would have nicknames by now . . .”

Agatha pumped her legs faster so she wouldn't hear Tedros' answer.

Near the cave hole, Hort gaped at all this in horror.

“HIM? You're going with
him
?” he screeched, losing his rebel-cool facade. “What about
me
?”

“You follow behind us and ward off danger, darling!” Sophie called, without turning. “That's what bodyguards
do
.”

Hort's chest puffed up, his rage about to blow, but it was too late.

Sophie was already cozied up to another boy—a boy Hort had come all this way to save her from—leaving the weasel alone in the dust.

Agatha peeked over her shoulder.

She'd checked a thousand times in the past four hours, trying to gauge if it was going well, but they were a mile back now, tiny halo-haired figurines against a misty, mustard-colored bog. She needed Sophie to destroy that ring. She needed Sophie to hold up her end of the bargain, after she'd forced Tedros to give her a chance.

But what if Sophie ruined it?

Suddenly Agatha felt like the old Agatha: the Agatha who'd studied spellbooks and fed Sophie lines as a cockroach and moved mountains to get Tedros to kiss her best friend and
send them home. But her plans had failed then and it would fail now, if the new Sophie acted anything like the old Sophie. Because Tedros wouldn't kiss that Sophie, then or now.

Agatha anxiously glanced back again—

She tripped badly, her new boots slipping off the wet path into a marsh of black water. A ribbon of saw grass snapped against her cheeks like a whip. Gritting her teeth, she climbed back onto the muddy trail through the mossy, yellowed Boglands, chasing after Merlin, who had grown so impatient with her distracted lagging that he was no longer waiting for her.

But Agatha's mind couldn't stop churning. On the one hand, she and Merlin needed Tedros to kiss Sophie. On the other hand, she could puke at the idea of Tedros kissing that lying, back-stabbing, double-crossing—

Pain pricked her ribs, a twinge Agatha felt when her thoughts went wrong.

She'd been demonizing Sophie as the old Sophie, the Evil-witch Sophie, still scheming for a prince. But had she tried to see the story from Sophie's point of view? Behind the curtain in the cave, Sophie had looked so regretful, as if she knew what she was doing was wrong. Yet, as Sophie pointed out, all of this was Agatha's fault to begin with. She'd given Tedros a clean slate in the tower, even if Tedros hadn't known it at the time. She'd given
all
of them a clean slate when she'd balked at being queen. And with a clean slate, Sophie had done what anyone with a second chance at their fairy tale would do, just like those undead villains in the School for Old. They'd gone back to the moment in their story when things went awry.