The Last Ever After (33 page)

“Excuse me if you're a bit far out for social visits, but I wouldn't come unless it was a serious matter,” Merlin replied.

“Another sword? A life-extension potion? Or a holy grail this time?” the nymph huffed. “Come to the lonely Lady and she'll do magic on command!”

“I need to ask for the same thing I asked for two others once upon a time,” spoke Merlin, stark and firm. “That you hide these children in your shelter as long as they need it.”

The Lady of the Lake stopped smiling. A fraught moment passed between the two sorcerers.

“Merlin, dear. You do know what you're asking,” she said darkly.

The wizard's eyes flicked to Tedros for a moment before he looked back at the nymph. “Indeed.”

Sophie glanced at Agatha, utterly lost, and Agatha shrugged back, just as befuddled.

The Lady of the Lake took a deep breath and gazed hard at the four students. “Well? Come on then, children. The waters are warm.”

“
Waters?
You want us to swim?” Hort blurted, peering over the edge of the lake. “How are we supposed to live underwat—”

Merlin groaned and pushed him in.

Hort was sucked through the water with a blast of white light before he vanished under the surface entirely.

Agatha, Sophie, and Tedros all gawked at Merlin.

The wizard smiled. “Why do you think
water
was always the portal in Merlin's Menagerie?”

He thrust out his hands and the three students went flying into the lake headfirst. Light detonated in Sophie's eyes and she felt her whole body swarmed by gooey heat, water all around her and yet not touching her, like she was protected by an invisible womb. Deeper and deeper she sank into the lake until all at once the waters receded and she was on solid ground in a glare of sunlight, completely dry and curled up like a baby.

“Where are we?” said Agatha's voice above her.

Sophie craned to see Agatha with Hort and Tedros standing on a lush green moor, the grass so green and dewy it sparkled under the melting sun. Sophie stood and saw they
were surrounded by more green heaths, with sheep, cows, and horses grazing freely, as if they'd found a haven from the dying Woods.

“Look,” Agatha said.

The others followed her eyes to a small farmhouse across the moors.

“Must be our safe house,” said Hort.

Tedros squinted. “Someone's coming.”

Two people were walking towards them now, tan-skinned and weather-beaten, both holding hands. A bony woman with straggly brown hair and a broad-chested man with rough black curls.

“Hope they have hot water,” said Sophie, smiling at her prince with relief. “I really need a—”

She stopped because Tedros wasn't smiling at all. Watching the strangers approach, his face flushed dead white, sweat streaking his temples.

“No no no no no—” he gasped.

Sophie spun to the strangers, confused, but the woman had stopped cold, her mouse-like face a mask of shock.

“God help me,” she whispered.

Tedros stumbled back, grabbing Agatha's arm like a panicked child. “Wake me up . . .
please
. . . wake me up—”

“T-T-Tedros?” the woman stammered.

“I'm afraid your son and his friends need you, Guinevere,” said Merlin's voice, as the wizard appeared out of a sun flare, striding onto the moor.

Tedros couldn't speak, wild eyes darting between Merlin
and the woman, his entire body shaking so much Agatha had to cradle him under her arm.

Sophie knew she should go to the prince, but she couldn't move. She was trembling at the sight of the dark-haired, coal-eyed man the same way Tedros trembled from his mother.

Because just as Tedros dreamed of Guinevere, Sophie dreamed of
him
.

The devil who appeared inside Rafal's ring.

The devil who stopped her from Tedros' crown.

And now the devil who had a name.

Lancelot.

24
Who Do You Belong With?

T
edros had been staring at the steaming cup of cinnamon-apple cider for nearly twenty minutes, but had yet to touch it.

Watching him, Agatha had been so worried about what he was thinking that she hadn't touched hers either. Nor had Sophie next to her, who was too busy giving Lancelot nervous looks, as the swarthy, pock-skinned knight lay plates and silverware for each of them.

“You must be famished, the lot of you,” he said in a rumbling baritone. “Your dark-haired friend asked if he could have a bath. Funny lad . . . said he didn't want to stink up the table. What's his name again? Homer? Hodor?”

None of them answered.

“Hobbin, I think,” said Lancelot.

Agatha could see Tedros' shirt wet with perspiration, his Adam's apple lurching up and down, the veins on his arms about to pop—

“Hort. His name is Hort,” Guinevere said, bustling in from the kitchen with a dish of fire-grilled turkey and a bowl of rampion salad. In the torchlight of the farmhouse's dining room, Agatha saw she had Tedros' small, snub nose, his flat brows over electric-blue eyes, as well as his tendency to sweat profusely. Her hair was another matter: it was so tangled and twiggish brown that her small, pallid face was like an egg in a bird's nest.

“It's Tuesday and Lance and I cook for the week on Mondays, so we have plenty to go around,” she said. “Until next Monday, that is. Doesn't mean you can't stay past Monday, of course. We're just not used to guests . . . or people for that matter. Sometimes Lance and I go days without talking at all.” She sat down and waited in vain for someone to fill the silence. “Hope it's edible. Tedros always loved my turkey, even as a little boy. He'd come running the second he smelled it from the kitchen, even in the middle of his lessons with Merlin.”

Tedros didn't look at her.

“Shall we start?” Guinevere said weakly, inching the dishes forward. “You've been on a long journey, so load up your plates. I can always make more.”

No one ate.

No one spoke.

“Well, seems like you're all settled in, so I'll be on my way!” chimed Merlin, ambling in with his walking stick in hand.

Everyone looked up urgently, as if he were the last lifeboat leaving a ship.

“W-w-where are you going?” said Tedros.

“Just as you are safe here, I must ensure our other friends are safe too, including your fellow students at school,” said Merlin. “No doubt the School Master has accelerated his plan, once the Storian revealed to him that you are under the Lady of the Lake's protection.” He looked at Guinevere cryptically. “Apologies for not staying for dinner, my dear. Though I did go to the grove to pay my respects . . .”

Guinevere nodded, as if she understood what he meant.

“I'll see you soon, children,” said Merlin, before he glanced at Sophie, his eyes finding the ring on her finger. “Hopefully with no more blood on our hands.”

Agatha saw Sophie hold her breath as Merlin magically whisked a lump of turkey from the table to his hand and sauntered out of the cabin, the door swinging shut behind him.

Unbearable silence resumed.

Agatha tried to forget about Merlin's absence and Sophie's ring and Tedros' torment and focused instead on the house's logwood walls, the oval-shaped rooms with crackling fireplaces, the handmade leather couches and sheep-wool rugs, everything so cozy and lovingly crafted, as if two people, without friends, family, community, had made a home at the end of the world—

“White or dark meat, Tedros?” Guinevere's voice asked.

Agatha snapped to attention to see Guinevere pick up her son's plate and smile at him.

Her question hung in the air, the first challenge to the silence.

Tedros finally looked at his mother. “I can't do this,” he breathed.

Guinevere said nothing as Tedros wrenched from the table, his cast-iron chair screeching against the floor.

Lancelot frowned. “Tedros, you don't have to talk to her, but at least eat your—”

“If you even look in my direction, you dirty fink, I'll split you in half,” Tedros hissed.

Lancelot rocketed to his feet, but Guinevere clasped his wrist, guiding him back down. Lancelot said nothing as Tedros' boots snapped out of the room and the farmhouse door slammed behind him.

Instinctively Agatha jumped up to follow her prince—

“I'll go, Aggie,” Sophie's voice said.

Agatha turned to see Sophie standing. Sophie gave her a subtle nod and left the table, but not before flashing Lancelot a last anxious look. Agatha heard the front door close once more and she lowered back to the table, her stomach in a knot.

The room was so quiet they could hear the sound of Hort's bath running across the house.

“Well, then,” Agatha said, forcing a smile at her hosts, “shall we dig in?”

Guinevere and Lancelot both exhaled, as if keeping someone at the table was victory enough.

Agatha started on the turkey, so smoky and soft she closed her eyes with pleasure, trying to block all thoughts of what
may or may not be happening outside . . .

“He's picked a lovely princess, hasn't he?” Guinevere said.

Agatha's eyes opened.

“‘Sophie,' was it?” said Guinevere, shunting her straggly hair out of her salad. “Went after him so surely, like Tedros' father used to come after me. She must love him very much.” Her voice wavered. “Not sure Arthur or I could have chosen any better for him.”

“Well, they look enough alike, don't they?” grumbled Lancelot, mouth full.

“I just mean she carries herself like a queen. More than I ever did to be honest,” said Guinevere, sniffling a laugh.

“She's perfect for the lad. People of the kingdom will fawn over her and she'll dote on him hand and foot,” said Lancelot.

“Camelot will finally have a real queen,” Guinevere sighed, putting on a smile. She turned to Agatha. “What about you, dear? Did you and Hort meet at school? Or was it the Snow Ball—”

“I'm sorry. Will you excuse me?” Agatha gasped. “I . . . I feel like I need some air—”

She pushed herself from the table and fled the cabin, leaving Lancelot and Guinevere, who'd never needed anything but each other's company, feeling suddenly alone.

Agatha didn't know where she was going; she just had to get away from that house. Clumping across the moors in steel-blue twilight, she took a long, full breath and noticed, for the first time, the air was warm. Gone was the raw winter
chill, replaced by a humid breeze, just like the wind that blew through Merlin's Celestium.

Maybe this is the Lake Lady's thinking place,
she wondered, clinging to any thought that didn't involve Sophie or Tedros. Nothing loomed ahead except flat, lucid evening and sky maps of stars and Agatha knew she could go on walking, forever and ever, never finding an end.

She slowed to a stop and peered back towards the house. Beyond it, animals commingled, with a few pigs amongst the sheep and cows, while horses chased each other in the moonlight.

The moon lit up something else too: Gavaldon against the horizon, already clearer than it was a day before. And now there were visible holes in the glassy shield around it.

More stories rewritten.

More old heroes dead.

The School Master was getting closer to his ending.

But what was it?
she thought.
What did he need in Gavaldon?

Something he needs to destroy Good forever
, Merlin had said.

Agatha chewed on her lip, wrestling this most important riddle of all—

That's when she saw them. Two goldilocked figures by a small oak grove, indistinguishable in the dark.

Agatha was reminded of a moment two years ago during Forest Group sorting when she caught Tedros and Sophie flirting against a tree. It was the first time Agatha had ever seen her best friend look happier than she did when she was with her. Now the sight of Sophie with the same prince, neither in a
rush to find nor include her, brought the feelings roaring back. A sick, primal loneliness reared its head—

Only this time Agatha didn't run from the pain.

Slowly she let the loneliness in, holding it, studying it as it clawed at her heart like a monster at the door.

What am I so afraid of?

She'd spent her whole life alone before that June morning four years ago when Sophie first came with a basket of face creams and diet cookies, offering to make her over. She'd been
happy
alone, like a bird trapped in a cage who'd never seen the sky. But as they grew closer and closer, Sophie had opened Agatha's wings to a love so strong she thought it would last forever. It was she and Sophie against the world.

But on that first day of school, watching Sophie with a prince, Agatha realized how blind she'd been. The bond between two girls, no matter how fierce or loyal, changed once a boy came between them.

She and Sophie had tried to go home after that. They'd tried to get back to the way they used to be. But it was as impossible as returning to being a child once you'd already grown up.

All this time, Agatha couldn't understand why Sophie had chosen to be with Rafal to begin with . . . why Sophie would choose to be with a boy so Evil. But standing there, alone in the dark, Agatha suddenly felt for her best friend. Because when Agatha kissed Tedros and vanished him home with her, Sophie no longer had someone who put her first. Her two best friends had left her for each other.

Tedros too had once felt that pain, watching her and Sophie
kiss before they vanished home.

Now Agatha was the odd one out. For if Sophie and her prince ended up together, their first loyalty would be to each other and their new kingdom. She'd still be their friend, of course, but it would be different. For the first time, there would be a part of Sophie and Tedros that Agatha could no longer share. The two of them would have each other. And she would only have herself.

The ache inside her amplified as if she was getting closer to the fire.

It wasn't just her best friend or her prince she was afraid of losing.

It was the old Agatha.

The Agatha who knew how to be alone.

That's why she'd held on so tightly to Sophie as a friend . . . then to Tedros as her prince . . . doubting them, testing them, distrusting them . . . but still holding on.

Because somewhere along the way she'd stopped trusting herself too.

Pain smashed through the barrier and flooded her heart. Agatha closed her eyes, unable to breathe, as if she was drowning—

“Heard I took you to the Snow Ball and didn't even know it,” a voice said.

She turned to see Hort, barechested in long underpants, his hair dripping wet.

Maybe it was her wrought expression or the red in her cheeks, but Hort awkwardly covered his chest. “Uh, she's
washing my clothes. Don't fall in love with me or anything,” he mumbled.

Agatha took one look at his worried face and exploded into cackles, tearing and laughing at the same time.