The Last Ever After (31 page)

“It peed on me the entire ride!” Tedros could hardly speak now. “The worst part is . . . the speech I had ready was really, really
good
!”

Sophie nestled into him, howling.

Agatha had never seen Tedros laugh this hard with her. She'd never seen her prince this joyful or relaxed. Even Sophie looked so free and guileless, as if she and Tedros had their own history and intimacy that Agatha hadn't known. Agatha felt nauseous, as if she should grab Tedros and pull him away from her—

But the echo of Merlin's words held her back like a wind. She felt old resentments give way to the new truth of the moment: the sight of her two best friends safe and happy, sniggering over a ludicrous story . . . and before she could help herself, Agatha was snorting too.

The prince looked up, startled, and stopped laughing.

“Goodness,” Sophie said, following his eyes to Merlin and Agatha. “Either we're too fast or you're too slow.”

“Knowing us, a little of both,” said Agatha.

Sophie stared at her, breath held, waiting for the bitter punch line.

Instead Agatha smiled.

Sophie's face lightened as if she sensed a silent change between them.

Tedros, on the other hand, gave Agatha a frosty glance.

“Not too fast or too slow, as Goldilocks might say, but just right,” said Merlin, pulling new plates of food from his hat. “Wanted you two to catch up with us and get a hot lunch. Tedros, here's chicken pie and some fresh greens for you and Sophie, while Agatha and I will resume our journey. Tomorrow, we'll meet at the safe house by sunset. Come, Agatha—”

But Agatha was peering into the horizon. “What's that?”

Sophie squinted across purple hills and saw Hort's shadow trudging along the trail. “Oh he'll be fine. His father was a pirate, for goodness' sakes—”

“No,” said Agatha.
“That.”

She was watching a mirage far, far away, barely discernible against the gray sky. The colors were thin and impressionistic, like one of August Sader's paintings, but Agatha could make out the outlines of a village: turreted cottage houses, yellow schoolhouse, crooked clock tower, shielded by a protective bubble. . . . Her mouth fell open.

“Gavaldon. That's . . .
Gavaldon
.”

“The beginnings of it, at least,” said Merlin.

Agatha gazed at him, suddenly understanding. “Every old story changed brings him closer to the Reader World. That's what he said.”

“And he meant it literally,” said the wizard. “It seems your fellow Readers are
reading
his new stories.”

Agatha and Sophie both looked confused.

“You see, as long as Readers believe in the old fairy tales—and the power of Good to triumph over Evil—the School Master has no access to their world, other than to take two students to school every four years. Indeed, he confessed this weakness to Agatha himself,” said Merlin, studying the mirage carefully. “But once Readers read the new stories and begin to lose their faith in Good, their world gets closer and closer to the School Master's grasp. With every hero's death, that protective shield will weaken . . . the mirage will sharpen . . .
until at last the gates will open to his Dark Army. For there is something in your village the young School Master needs to complete your fairy tale. Something he needs to destroy Good forever. And whatever it may be, it is something he will surely get . . . unless we destroy that
ring
.”

Merlin, Agatha, and Tedros all turned to Sophie.

“I don't understand, Sophie,” Tedros said, glaring at the gold circle on her finger. “What are you waiting for?”

Sophie bristled. “Teddy, look dear! What a lovely lunch Merlin's served us! You must be famished.” She pulled him down to the picnic spread before looking up at Agatha. “You and Merlin best be on your way, shouldn't you, Aggie? Don't want any villains catching us here in broad daylight.”

Agatha could see Merlin about to expound on the wonder of Gillikin fairies, but she nudged him and Merlin grinned oafishly, picking up the hint.

Later, as the two of them crossed the abandoned lake village of Urthur, hopping between what seemed like an enormous game board of waterpuddles, Agatha could still see Merlin smiling. She assumed it was because there was something primal about jumping over puddles reflecting the pink-and-blue sunset, clearing hurdles or missing by inches and splish-sploshing ice-cold water with giggly shrieks, like two children playing leapfrog.

But Merlin wasn't smiling at any of that.

He was smiling at Agatha.

Not just because it was she who'd known to give her friends
privacy on that hill instead of him or that it was the wizard now huffing and puffing to keep up with the student . . .

But because in the four hours since she'd left her prince and friend to their own story, his wise, young Agatha hadn't looked back once.

23
Two Queens

S
ophie watched Agatha recede on the trail, smaller, smaller, until she was a speck on the horizon.

“Sophie, it'll take thirty seconds!”

She swiveled to Tedros. “Absolutely not. I'm not watching you
urinate
in broad daylight.”

“Why can't you turn around—”

“And
listen
to it? As if I'm in a horse trough?”

“Sophie, if I don't pee I'm going to explode and I can't leave you alone on a hill, even with Gillie fairies scouting for us.” Tedros inhaled a lump of chicken pot pie and shifted in his shorts, looking highly uncomfortable. “Suppose one of the zombie villains shows up?”

“Then I'll defend myself,
thank you. Besides I can think of nothing more villainous than you swaying back and forth, tugging at your pants like you're doing some baleful interpretive dance,” said Sophie, reaching for watercress, only to see it magically devoured. “These fairies come a close second. Now hurry before Hort gets here and challenges you to a duel.”

Tedros stood as Sophie nibbled on a watercress leaf. “Don't eat all the pie,” he cracked.

Sophie smiled coyly and watched the prince dart down the slope. Beyond the hillcrests, she glimpsed the beginnings of Gavaldon behind a protective shield, and her smile flattened. Rafal's ring suddenly felt like a heavy weight on her finger.

I have to destroy it soon
, she thought.

Old heroes were dying because of
her
, Good's stories were turning Evil because of
her
, Readers were in danger because of
her
. Smash the ring with Excalibur here and now and their fairy tale would end before Rafal ever made it to Gavaldon—storybook closed, sun restored, Good and Evil back the way they once were.

Sophie nervously picked at the pie.

She couldn't do it.

She needed that kiss first.

Once Tedros finally kissed her, he'd feel it in their lips like an answer to a riddle: that they were meant for each other from the first day they locked eyes at the Welcoming.

But destroy the ring without that kiss and she'd have nothing to ensure their Ever After. No matter how many heroes' lives were on the line, she couldn't throw away her own happy
ending to save theirs. Martyrdom sounded Good in theory, but in reality, it was pointless, idealistic,
insane
. Even with all of Good in peril, no one in their right mind would willingly sacrifice their true love—

Agatha would
, thought Sophie.

Agatha would do whatever it took to save Good, just like Agatha had found it in her heart to let her best friend and Tedros have a chance at Ever After, risking her own . . . while Sophie had tried to
kill
Agatha for the same offense.

I'm Evil.
Sophie swallowed.
Definitely Evil
.

So what made her think she could end up with Good's greatest prince?

She caressed Tedros' name on her skin beneath the cold, metal ring.

Her heart had promised he was her true love.

And hearts don't lie.

“I was kidding about you eating the pie,” a boy's voice said behind her, “but maybe I shouldn't have been.”

Sophie glanced down and saw she'd drained almost all of it.

“Stress eating,” she mumbled, and looked up to see Tedros looming over her, the sun shadowing his wind-chilled face. He pulled Excalibur from its sheath, the silver blade nearly blinding Sophie with its glare.

“One blow will take care of every last one of our stresses. That's all we need from you, Sophie. One hard blow.”

Sophie started fussing with the picnic plates, scooping the leftovers into one. “We really should get on. The other two are
far enough along by now—”

“I don't understand girls,” said Tedros, plopping into crinkly tulips. “You leave Rafal, but you won't destroy his ring. You hire Hort as a bodyguard, but you want to travel with me. You act like you live on air and leaves, but you pillage a whole pie in twenty seconds. Not that I'm complaining. So many Evergirls won't eat in front of boys because they think it makes them look, I don't know . . .
human
? Trust me. Every boy would rather have a girl who eats.”

“So that's why you and Agatha got along. I've seen that girl wolf down garlic-fried sausage,” said Sophie, remembering how she'd abused Agatha for hours afterward over her breath. “Oh, Agatha,” she whispered. “Silly, wonderful Agatha.”

She looked up and saw Tedros flinch, as if the name had stung him.

The prince caught her staring and walked away. “You're right. Shouldn't linger until the weasel comes along.”

“He'll be hungry, won't he?” said Sophie, bunching dead tulips into a mound and topping it with the leftovers plate, so Hort wouldn't miss it. “He really is a nice boy. Just wants to protect me from being hurt, even if he doesn't love me anymore. Poured his heart out in the steam bath at school. Well, after all I've done to him, making sure he has his lunch is the least I can do.”

She scraped to her knees to get up and saw Tedros halted on the path, smirking at her. “What?” she asked.

“Who knew you had feelings?” he marveled, and hiked ahead.

Sophie pinked in surprise.

Maybe a wee bit Good after all,
she thought.

“And who knew you took steam baths with
Hort
?” she heard Tedros say.

Thank goodness I have proper shoes for once
, Sophie thought, pattering along the trail in snug, pink booties.

They'd been at it for six hours straight, with only a few short breaks to fill water tins and rest weary knees. (Sophie did a few yoga poses to stretch until she saw Tedros gawking and decided yoga was best done in private.) It was dark now and they could only see the trail by magical embers of white light Merlin had left behind like breadcrumbs. Before they departed Headquarters, he'd told them when they reached the last light crumb on the path, it was his signal to camp for the night.

From Gillikin, the trail had led them out of Ever strongholds into Never territory—Ravenbow by afternoon, with its steaming rivers of blood and castles of bone, then Magalae at sunset, with its rope bridges across crog-filled sludge pits, then Drupathi in the moonlight, a land of orange tree blossoms and papaya-colored fruit, completely out of place amongst the sinister Never Lands and withering Woods, until Sophie had glimpsed the dunes of dead flies beneath the trees and realized everything here was toxic.

All through the Never Lands, Sophie had seen pairs of eyes flickering beyond the trail, yellow, red, and green, accompanied by growls and hisses in the underbrush. Still, nothing attacked and she ventured that as long as they stayed within
the boundaries of Merlin's light, they'd be safe from harm.

Tedros snorted. “Oh please, no one's afraid of an old wizard's magic. They're afraid of a young, strapping prince with his father's sword. Until Evil actually seals a Never After, they know Good still always wins.”

“Tell that to once-dead zombie villains who have nothing to lose,” said Sophie. “Do you know what safe house Merlin is taking us to?”

“Not a clue. Nowhere in the Woods is safe, if you ask me.”

“What about that strange purple sky we hid in during the escape?”

“The Celestium? It's just a place for Merlin to think. Air's too thin up there to breathe for more than a few hours. Even if there was a safe house in the Woods somewhere, the Dark Army could easily find us. It has to be a place no one knows. A place Merlin's stashed secrets before.” Tedros stopped and exhaled his frustration. “Will you really not tell me why you're still wearing that ring?”

“It's your birthday in a few weeks, isn't it?” Sophie pivoted deftly. “No wonder you're being extra careful about your choice of a princess.”

Tedros hesitated, as if unsure whether to pursue the old subject or the new.

“I'm ready to be king,” he said finally, tramping on. “Been parentless for years now, so I'm not of those sheltered brats, who'll put himself before his people like some young kings. Not that the people are expecting much. Camelot's been a bloody mess since my father died. His council is supposed to
be running the realm until I'm sixteen and instead they're starving people, executing dissidents, and hoarding his gold. No matter. I'll throw them in the dungeons on my first day as king.” He looked at Sophie. “We'll make my father's kingdom new again.”

A kinetic shock lit up Sophie's body.

“We'll?”

Had it been a slip? Or was it deliberate?

She saw Tedros still looking at her, as if expecting her to contribute to a conversation she'd started. “Oh I'm sure we . . . you . . . yes, it'll be glorious, won't it?” Sophie bumbled. “But what about your mother? Last year you said there was a death warrant on—”

“Not something I think about,” Tedros clipped. “Probably dead by now anyway. No one ever saw her or Lancelot again after the night they left.”

Sophie raised her brows. “You're supposed to execute your own mother and it's not something you
think
about?”

“Look, my mother's a cold, selfish deserter, but she's not vicious,” said Tedros, puffing on his thick blond bangs. “Last place she'd come back to is Camelot, knowing her son would have to kill her.” His face clouded over. “Doesn't stop her from invading my dreams though.”

Sophie knew what it was like to be haunted by a mother that was gone forever. “What was she like? Beautiful, I imagine.”

“Not at all. That's the odd part. Dad was so much more handsome, dynamic, and fun. Mother was gangly, anxious,
and mousy. Only came alive when she was talking about books or tending animals. Zero clue why Father or any other man fawned over her,” said Tedros, grimacing. “But it serves Dad right for picking a girl who wasn't good enough. Lancelot was more on my mother's level. Had a horrible face, poor chap, but simpleminded and a sturdy knight. Mediocrity needs mediocrity, I suppose.”

“I can't sympathize,” Sophie sighed. “Could you ever imagine leaving someone charismatic and beautiful for someone perfectly average?”

She saw Tedros stiffen and glance away, as if shutting down this conversation.

Suddenly Sophie understood.

Tedros didn't need to imagine leaving someone beautiful and charismatic for someone average. He already had when he left her for Agatha their first year.

Sophie thought of the way he'd flinched when she mentioned her friend's name back in Gillikin—just like he was now, his cheeks blotched red.

“We'll” didn't mean him and Sophie.

“We'll” meant him and
Agatha
.

It didn't matter if he'd promised to give her a chance.

Words couldn't change a prince's heart.

A heart still in love with his old princess.

“I'm trying to imagine you as a queen,” Tedros mused, as if he'd suddenly remembered she was there. “You'd probably have your own wing with twenty servants drawing you hot baths of goat's milk, massaging your feet every hour with fish
eggs and pumpkin puree, and picking every last cucumber in the kingdom.”