The Last Ever After (54 page)

“No, our story proves a princess and a witch
have
to be friends. Because each of us has played both parts,” said Agatha. “And we'll always play both parts. That's who we are. That's why we're
us
.”

Sophie still couldn't look at her. “All I ever wanted was love, Aggie,” she breathed, voice breaking. “All I ever wanted was a happy ending like yours.”

“You already have one, Sophie. You've always had one.” Agatha smiled through tears. “With me.”

Sophie finally met her eyes.

For the briefest of moments, sound and space fell away, the two of them locked in a gaze so strong that they became reflections of each other. Light and Dark. Good and Evil. Hero and Villain. Only as each looked deeper, neither knew who was who. For in each other's eyes, they saw the answers to their own soul's silent questions, as if they weren't reflections at all, but two halves of the same.

A tear slipped down Sophie's cheek, her mouth falling open to the softest of gasps, as if a fire inside her had gone out.

The young School Master looked ruffled, his hands twitching on the axe, pupils darting between his prisoner and his queen—

Sophie blinked, the moment gone. She looked at Agatha as if she were a stranger, her face chilling back to its dead-numb shell. Slowly Sophie turned to Rafal.

“On three,” she said.

Rafal smiled cruelly at Sophie and slammed Agatha's head back down on the tree.

“On three,” said Rafal, measuring the blade against her and Tedros' necks.

Agatha went limp, her heart broken.

“One,” said Sophie.

Tedros stopped thrashing as if he knew the end had come. He pressed his bare shoulder against Agatha's and she pulled even closer, wanting to feel every part of him as they died.

“Two,” said Rafal, both fists on the axe.

She tasted the warmth of Tedros' breath.

“Forever,” he whispered.

“Forever,” she whispered.

Rafal raised the axe over their heads.

Sophie aimed her sword at her father's neck—

“Three,”
Sophie said.

Agatha felt the wind of the falling axe and saw Sophie swing Tedros' sword, the sun imploding to darkness in the mirror of its steel. But as Excalibur grazed Stefan's skin, about to rip into his throat, Sophie suddenly diverted her swing, looping the sword upwards. Her right hand came off the hilt, brushing across her left hand, sweeping the School Master's ring clean off her finger and high into the air, the gold circle catching the last spear of light in the sky, like a bold new sun—

The glare blinded Rafal and he froze the axe in shock, whirling back towards his queen. As the ring fell towards
Sophie, his eyes widened in horror and he thrust out his palm, a blast of black glow scorching towards her—

Clasping the sword with both fists, Sophie looked dead into the School Master's eyes and smashed Excalibur down with all her might, shattering the ring out of the air into a million shards of gold.

Gold shimmer enveloped Sophie's body like a shield as the School Master's death spell ripped into her, the black cloud breaking apart on impact and dissipating like the last mists of a storm.

Thunderstruck, Rafal watched the last embers of his ring go cold, betrayal flushing through his young, beautiful face . . .

Then he began to change. His face shriveled like rancid fruit; his thick white hair sloughed off in clumps over his mottled skull; his spine hunched with sickening crackles, jerking his body into ugly contortions. Liver spots rashed across decaying skin, his blue eyes clouding toxic gray, his muscled limbs shrinking to bony sticks. With each second, he grew older and older, thousands of years old, screams of rage tearing from inside of him as his flesh boiled with heat. His clothes burned off of him, smoke spitting through his mummifying skin, until the School Master was unmasked at last, a naked corpse of blackened, hateful flesh.

His red eyes met Sophie's. Roaring with vengeance, he staggered towards her, faster, faster, stabbing out a rotted claw for her face—

His hand crumbled to dust as he touched her.

Rafal let out a monstrous cry and burst into ashes, cascading
to the ground like the sands of an hourglass.

All through the trees, his Dark Army of old villains crumbled too, their weapons dropping and clinking to earth in clouds of dust.

A last gust of wind swept trails of smoke across the Forest like a curtain.

The night was quieter than the depths of a tomb.

Stupefied, Tedros ripped out his gag and scraped to his knees first, gaping into the black sky.

“We're here,” he said, spinning around. “We're still here. Agatha . . . we're alive! The storybook's closed—”

His princess hadn't moved, facedown on the log.

“Agatha?”

Slowly Agatha looked up at him. “Tedros, I think I'm going to faint.”

Her prince smiled. “You catch me. I catch you.”

The color drained from Agatha's face and she slackened into his waiting arms.

Across from them, petrified villagers freed Stefan, who tearfully embraced Honora and her two young sons. In the mulch of the Forest, young and old heroes pulled themselves off the ground, surveying the carnage of war. Hester cut Lancelot and Merlin loose, while Hort reunited the wizard with his hat and starry cloak. Meanwhile, Anadil and Dot hustled between old mentors, propping them up to their feet.

“We'll make you a new wing, Tink,” Peter said, comforting his weeping fairy.

“Make me a new chair too,” said Hansel, frowning at a
broken wheel on his wheelchair.

With his spectacles cracked, the White Rabbit depended on Yuba to guide him, while Princess Uma said a silent prayer for all the animals that had died during the war.

“Anyone seen Jack?” Pinocchio asked.

Red Riding Hood pointed to him and Briar Rose kissing behind a tree.

As Merlin tended to the wounded students, Beatrix used what few skills she'd learned leading Evil's infirmary to help Lancelot bind his bloody shoulder.

“Gwen will never let me leave the house again,” he grumbled.

As Agatha stirred, she felt Tedros running his fingers through her hair.

The first thing she saw was Merlin crouched over Cinderella, wrapping her body in his cloak. The old princess looked so peaceful and light, the way she had when she saw her stepsisters one last time.

The wizard met Agatha's eyes and gave her the warmest of smiles, as if to reassure her that even though she was no longer alive, Cinderella had finally found her happy ending.

Agatha watched as Hort and Chaddick helped the wizard carry her away. Tomorrow, there would be a funeral, where she could say goodbye . . .

Tomorrow
.

“The sun,” she choked, peering into the dark sky. “Where's the sun?”

“Waiting to rise in the morning,” said her barechested
prince, helping her up. “Thanks to you.”

Agatha exhaled. “Takes two for a happy ending,” she said, searching for her best friend. But Sophie was nowhere to be seen.

“You know what went through my head as the axe was coming down?” Tedros asked. “That we never had nicknames for each other, like every other couple.”

“We're not like every other couple,” said Agatha, looking at him.

“No, we're not,” Tedros admitted. “Not every king finds a queen who's smarter, stronger, and better than him in every way.”

Agatha put her hand to his golden cheek. “You are the pretty one, at least.”

Tedros grinned, leaning in. “Mmm, you might have me beat there too.”

He kissed her long and soft, leaving Agatha even more wobbly on her feet. Tedros steadied her with his strong arm, bringing her into his sweaty chest. After all this, he somehow smelled better than he ever did before. She kissed him again, a blush blooming on her cheeks—

Then her smile faded.

Tedros noticed and turned.

Through the trees, Sophie was kneeling beside Lady Lesso, shivering on her back, as Professor Dovey clutched her friend's hand.

The Evil Dean's dress was soaked with blood.

“Oh no,” Agatha whispered.

Sophie stroked Lady Lesso's cheek, gazing into her violet eyes. The Dean was wheezing shallowly, trying in vain to say something.

“Shhh,” Professor Dovey said to her, stoic and firm. “Just rest.”

The Good Dean had known the moment she'd seen the wound from Aric's knife that magic would serve no use.

Sophie glanced up and saw Agatha, Tedros, and all the other young and old heroes gathered at a distance, watching solemnly.

“What . . . made you . . . do it?”

Sophie slowly looked down.

“Tell . . . me,” Lady Lesso said.

Sophie smiled. “The same thing that made you turn your back on Evil too,” she said. “A friend.”

Lady Lesso took Sophie's hand in hers, the Dean's other hand still on Clarissa's. “The Old and the New together,” she whispered. “Both in good hands.”

Tears slipped down Sophie's face. “This is my fault—”

“No,” said Lady Lesso, steeling willfully. “Never that. You're my child. As much as my own son. You are loved, Sophie.” Her voice faltered. “Always remember. You are
loved
—”

Clarissa touched her. “Lady Lesso, please . . .”

“Leonora.”

Lady Lesso looked up at her best friend. “My name . . . is Leonora.”

Slowly the Dean's eyes closed. She never took another breath.

Professor Dovey finally wept, draping herself over her best friend.

Sophie quietly left the two of them alone.

Agatha was waiting for her at Gavaldon's edge.

They stood together in silence, watching Dovey hold Lesso's dead body the way Agatha once held Sophie's.

Sophie's fingers clasped Agatha's.

Agatha gently squeezed Sophie back.

“Where's Tedros?” Sophie said at last.

“Rounding up the others so we can head to the school,” Agatha replied, watching Tedros and Lancelot in the Forest lifting Ravan, Professor Anemone, and the other injured atop the rumps of Princess Uma's few surviving animals. “So many hurt that we'll need the other teachers' help.”

“Come on. Let's chip in,” Sophie said, heading towards the trees—

“Not yet,” said Agatha. “There's someone waiting for you, first.”

Sophie looked over her friend's shoulder and saw Stefan, standing in the grass, the rest of the villagers gathered at a distance.

Sophie's heart caved in.

Stefan never said a word. He just hugged his daughter tight, as both of them sobbed.

“I'm sorry,” she breathed. “I'm sorry, Father.”

“I never hated you. Never,” Stefan fought. “I tried to be a good father—you don't know how hard I tried—”

“You were,” Sophie sniffled. “You were a good father.”

“I love you more than anything in the world,” Stefan whispered. “You're my child, Sophie.”

Stefan saw Agatha crying now, watching him with Sophie.

“Though you've always made Agatha feel like one of mine too,” he said, smiling tenderly at her.

Sophie wiped her cheek. “Come on, Aggie.”

Agatha hugged Stefan too, nestling against him, as her tears stained his shirt. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him everything. But as she caught Sophie's eyes, her friend clearly having the same thoughts, neither of them said a word. For in a single moment, they'd found everything they needed. They didn't need any more. There, in the space between worlds, two girls held their father, their bodies still and serene, as if three pieces had been made whole at last.

Agatha looked up at Stefan, smiling. With a gasp, she broke away from him—

For Stefan was shimmering, along with the rest of the villagers behind him. Within seconds, their bodies turned translucent, as Gavaldon started vanishing into a glare of white light.

Stunned, Stefan looked up and saw a shield streaking down from the sky—

Agatha felt Sophie's hand on hers, pulling her away from him.

“No. Stay with us, Sophie . . . ,” Stefan begged, fading faster. “Stay with your family!”

“I love you, Father, but you have a new family now,” said Sophie, eyes glistening. “The one you always deserved. The
one that will make you truly happy.” She held Agatha closer. “I have a new family too. One that can finally make me happy. So don't worry about me, Father. Please. Don't look back. Never look back.”

“No . . . Sophie, no . . .” Stefan lunged out a hand for his daughter as the shield slashed between them—

“Wait!”

Light slipped through his fingers.

He was gone.

35
Never Ever After

S
ophie rose early to watch the sun.

Wrapped in a wool blanket, she leaned over the rooftop balcony of Merlin's Menagerie, surrounded by leafy sculptures of her best friend's love story and gazed out at the brilliant fireball amidst purple shreds of sky. She'd forgotten what the sun looked like, so full and strong, brushing across her like a warm, gold kiss.

In the dawn light, she could see the glittering blue glass towers of Honor and Valor beneath her, the pink towers of Purity and Charity connected by a colored breezeway, and across the bay, the jagged black castles of Malice, Mischief, and Vice. The School Master's death had restored the School for Good and Evil
to balance, even though both the lake and moat sides of Halfway Bay continued to belch with noxious green fog. Merlin insisted the condition would resolve on its own, once Evers and Nevers resumed their classes and the magical wave responsible for sorting students began its rounds.

It had taken the wizard and Tinkerbell most of the night to fly the School Master's tower from the Blue Forest back to its rightful place between the halves of the bay. For one thing, Tink's aging fairy dust moved the structure slower than a snail would; for another, Tink was still adjusting to the new wing Merlin had made for her out of a blue butterfly he'd found in the Dean's office.

The wizard had yet to remand the Nevers to Evil's castle, preferring they all stay together for the night in the comforts of the Good dormitories. Once the Good and Evil teachers were freed, the faculty spent most of the evening treating injured students and heroes, while the rest of the Evers and Nevers had a full supper of turkey meatballs, carrot-ginger soup, green herb salad, and raspberry pie, catered by Merlin's hat. If any of the Evil teachers resented the loss of their School Master or having been sealed in their rooms during the war, none of them showed it—perhaps because they saw the extent of the wounds suffered in battle, or more likely because Lady Lesso's death meant one of them would be chosen the new Dean of Evil. With the School Master gone and Lady Lesso unable to choose a successor, it was soon widely presumed that Professor Manley would take her place. (He'd already spent the night redecorating her office.)

As the sun slipped behind a cloud, the winter chill returning,
Sophie sat down and snuggled against a topiary of Tedros proposing to Agatha at the Circus of Talents. Resting her head between them, she let her eyes close, thankful that she had nowhere to be, no one to seek, and nothing wanting in her heart.

She'd never truly loved Rafal, no matter how much she'd told herself she did. She'd used him, trying to heal the hole in her soul . . . just like he'd tried to use her. But he was gone now, the finger that once wore his ring bare and blank.

Dreams floated by and she found herself standing in front of beautiful white-and-blue spires spearing the sky, topped with vermillion flags . . .

Camelot.

She could see the white marble path leading towards the kingdom . . . the tall, silver gates wide open . . . Agatha and Tedros, hand in hand, waiting for her on the other side with big, bright smiles . . .

“Sophie?”

Her eyes fluttered open to full-blown morning.

“They're starting soon,” said Hort.

He was standing at the frosted door of the roof, his muscular frame obscured by a dumpy black tunic that used to be Evil's uniform.

In his hand was a matching tunic.

“No,” Sophie gasped.
“Really?”

Hort cracked a grin. “Really.”

The funerals for Cinderella and Lady Lesso took place in the Blue Forest, which was already coming back to life by the time
the nymphs began laying out chairs in the Tulip Garden.

All the Nevers wore their saggy black uniforms and sat on the left side of the grass, while all the Evers sat on the right, with the girls in their usual pink pinafores and the boys in sky-blue shirts, navy jackets, and knotted slim ties. Many of the students had bruises, bandages, and casts, which they showed off to classmates with furtive whispers and the utmost pride. Indeed, there were no dirty looks across the aisle nor any of the usual rancor between the Good and Evil schools . . . but instead a silent gratitude that the other school was present at all.

The old heroes were there too, neatly fitted out in suits and dresses they'd found in the faculty closets. Only Lancelot was absent, who couldn't bear to be away from his Guinevere any longer and had absconded during the night, once the students were safely asleep.

Everyone expected Merlin to preside over the ceremony as he stepped to the dais in front of the twin coffins, but the wizard invited Professor Dovey to say a few words instead.

Dressed in her chartreuse gown, Clarissa Dovey took the lectern, her brown eyes glassy, her nose tipped red.

“So much has been written of Cinderella, a student whose fairy tale will live on forever,” she began. “But there will be no stories of Lady Lesso. No tales passed down from Reader to Reader, keeping her name alive. For that, she would be thankful. Because Leonora Lesso only wanted one thing in her life. To find the true meaning of Evil. And it was in the pursuit of that meaning that she showed us why this school must endure.
For in the end, it was Evil's Dean who proved that sometimes Good isn't Evil's greatest enemy . . . but an unexpected friend.”

She spoke a while longer, but it was these words that remained in the minds of young and old when the Good Dean was finished, as they each took a turn touching the coffins and saying quiet goodbyes.

After the nymphs carried the coffins out of the Blue Forest and into the Woods, where they'd be properly buried by a new Crypt Keeper, the others moved into the Blue Pumpkin Patch for tea. Reena and Millicent played their flutes and Beatrix sang an aria no one listened to, while Merlin's hat laid out a colorful spread of jam-dot cookies, coconut cake, caramel macaroons, and sugar-mint scones. Nearby, students broke into sun-drenched packs, sober faces gradually melting to smiles.

Hester, Anadil, and Dot peered at Sophie across the pumpkins, clad in Evil's saggy black robes, and idling alongside Agatha in pink and Tedros in blue.

“Strange part is I'll miss them,” said Anadil, rats peeking out of her tunic. “Even the cretinous prince.”

“At least with Sophie gone, Hester will finally be Class Captain,” Dot said, adding chocolate chips to her scone.

“Won't mean very much without her, will it?” Hester said wistfully. “She was the greatest witch of us all.”

On the other side of the patch, Sophie noticed Hester, Anadil, and Dot sharing pieces of a scone and for the briefest of moments, she wished she could take them to Camelot with her.

“You're worse than Sophie,” garbled Agatha's voice.

Sophie turned to see her arguing with Tedros, Agatha's mouth full of cake.

“You keep saying you're hungry, but then you won't
eat
anything,” Agatha badgered, spilling crumbs on her pink dress.

“Coronation's tomorrow, which means they paint the royal portrait, which stays up for the next thousand years. Sorry if I want to look my best,” Tedros groused.

“They're painting mine too and you don't see me or Reaper acting like a ninny,” said Agatha, beaming at her hideous cat, chasing squealing Kiko around the Willows.

“Reaper?”
Tedros blurted. “If you think for one second I'm allowing that Satan-worshipper in my castle—”

“Your castle? I thought it was our castle.”

“Which means we get a pet we
both
like.”

“No Reaper, no me.”

“No you, then.”

“You puffed-up, lily-livered, mule-headed—”

Agatha stopped and saw Sophie goggling at the two of them.

“I really am better off, aren't I?” said Sophie.

All three of them burst into laughter.

“Tedros! Look!” Chaddick hollered.

The prince turned to see a gaggle of Evers gathered at the Blue Forest gates, ogling a white-and-blue carriage swerving up the path, pulled by two white horses, the corners of its square enclosure topped with vermillion flags.

“Is that it?” Agatha asked nervously.

Tedros smiled. “Come on, love. Camelot's waiting,” he said, yanking her towards it. He glanced back. “Hurry, Sophie! There's room in the carriage for three!”

“Which means your mother and I will have to ride behind!” a deep voice hollered.

Tedros looked up to see Lancelot with Guinevere, saddled on Benedict the horse, racing alongside the carriage.

By the time Guinevere dismounted, Tedros had nearly flattened her with a hug.

“You're coming with us?” he said, tears flowing.

“Me and the ogre,” said Guinevere, kissing his cheek. “A king needs his mother.” She looked up at Agatha. “And so does his queen.”

Agatha embraced her. “You have no idea,” she breathed.

“Thank you, Mother,” Tedros sniffled, putting his arms around the both of them. “Thank you—”

“You can thank her by taking that death warrant off her head,” Lancelot crabbed.

“Oh Lance, must you ruin everything!” Guinevere sighed.

As Lancelot relented and joined the group hug, Sophie watched from a distance as Agatha wrapped tighter into the arms of a loving prince and new, beautiful family. Seeing the glow in her friend's face, Sophie's own heart felt light as a cloud. Lady Lesso was right. Agatha's happiness was her happiness. And that was Ever After enough.

“Sophie, come on!”

She glanced up at Tedros and Agatha, holding the carriage door open for her.

With a smile, Sophie started heading towards them—

“Dear girl, do you mind retrieving my cape from Professor Dovey's office?” said Merlin, sauntering by in his shirtsleeves. “These old bones won't make it up another flight of stairs.”

Sophie frowned, pointing at her friends ahead. “But they're—”

“Don't worry,” said Merlin, breezing past her. “We'll hold the carriage.”

The door to Professor Dovey's office was open and Sophie hurried inside, not wanting to keep her friends waiting.

The second desk was gone and the Dean of Good's office restored the way it once was, smelling of cinnamon and cloves. But Sophie couldn't see Merlin's cloak anywhere: not on the coat hooks, nor on the chair or desk . . .

But there was something else on the desk that made Sophie stop.

Between the pumpkin paperweights and basket of fresh sour plums lay a long white box cinched with a single purple ribbon. Attached to the box was a card that read:

Sophie

“It was on my desk when we returned.”

Sophie turned to see Professor Dovey at the door.

“Lady Lesso must have left it before she freed me from the
Brig,” said Clarissa, stepping beside her. “There was no will, no letter . . . only this.”

Sophie ran her fingers along the stiff edges of the box and her inked name on the card, nothing else on the front or back, before peeking up at the Dean.