The Last Ever After (41 page)

Hester glowered at her. “The biggest mistake a villain can make is to get caught up in revenge. Hansel and Gretel were two hungry kids trying to survive in the Woods. Mother thought she'd captured another pair of greedy, gluttonous brats, only to grossly underestimate them. Hansel and Gretel killed her because they had to. It wasn't personal.” She glanced back at the old siblings. “Doesn't mean I can stand the sight of 'em, of course. But it also doesn't mean their story has anything to do with mine anymore.”

Agatha could see Dot and Anadil gazing at Hester with awe, and for a moment, Agatha wondered whether in this room of heroes young and old, Hester was the greatest hero of all.

“Shouldn't have been so mean to her before,” Dot whispered to Agatha. “Must be hard having me as a friend when I'm the kinda girl her mother used to eat. I mean, if I'd gone to her house that day instead of Hansel and Gretel, her mother would still be alive. Gretel saved Hansel 'cause she loved him, where I'd have ended up alone and cooked to a crisp. That's why I'm not an Ever. Don't have anyone who'd care enough about me to save me.”

“That's not true,” said a voice.

Dot turned to see Hester looking right at her.

“That's not true at all,” Hester said.

Dot blushed.

Agatha forced her attention back to Jack and Briar Rose's story, if only to hide a sniffle.

On they went, each hero regaling the room with raucous tales of survival—Red Riding Hood, Princess Uma, Yuba and the White Rabbit—until twelve had gone and only one remained. Then, and only then, did the room fall silent for good.

Slowly everyone turned to face the head of the table, their smiles gone.

Merlin took off his hat.

“Seven days,” he said. “That's as long as the sun will light our Woods, based on Yuba's calculations.
Seven days
. If we wish to survive beyond them, we have no choice but to attack the School for Evil and the School Master knows it. He knows Good will always fight for life. And I'm afraid we have no choice but to fall into his trap.” The wizard sighed. “At the
same time, so many of our fellow heroes have been slain in the Woods that the shield over the Reader World is barely intact. If any one of our old League members die, I suspect it will fall at last. The School Master will invade their world and claim the secret ending he's been after all along. An ending he believes will destroy Good forever.”

For a moment, no one spoke, taking this in.

“I don't understand. Isn't killing these two duffers enough?” asked Cinderella, pointing at Agatha and Tedros. “It's their fairy tale. Why does he need the Woods Beyond?”

“It's a good question and I wish I knew the answer,” said Merlin. “Though I have no doubt he'll kill Agatha and Tedros too when the time comes.”

Agatha and Tedros exchanged tense looks.

“I think it's clear the School Master wants this fairy tale to be so cruel, so Evil, that Good has no power left beyond it,” said Merlin. “He's already rewritten so much of our past. Now he's after our future. He believes that whatever ending he has planned will make Evil invincible.”

“And you have no idea what that ending is, Merlin?” Princess Uma pushed.

“Only an inkling and nothing I would share,” said Merlin. “Until I know for sure, however, our only hope is to catch Sophie and make her destroy that ring.”

Agatha felt nauseous, trying to remember her best friend was leading the enemy now.

“So how do we do
that
?” asked Red Riding Hood.

Merlin smiled. “We charge the school, of course.”

The old heroes eyed each other warily. “Well, which Ever kingdoms are joining us?” asked Jack. “We'd need Maidenvale, Gillikin, and Avondale at the very least—”

“None,” said Merlin.

“What?” Briar Rose blurted.

“None of the Ever kingdoms are joining us.”

The room was very still.

“Merlin,” said Peter Pan. “The School Master is young and strong. He has two hundred old villains who can't be killed by anything other than fire, along with a school of young students—”

“Leave that problem to
me
,” said Merlin. “In the meantime, I expect the League to work with our young heroes—Agatha, Tedros, Hort, Hester, Anadil, and Dot—and prepare them as best as you can for the villains they'll face, given you once battled these same villains yourself. We leave for war one week from tonight.”

“But we're old bones!” Hansel blustered.

“And they're young idiots!” said Gretel. “It's impossible!”

“It's idiocy!” said Cinderella.

“It's a massacre is what it is,” said Red Riding Hood.

“The other option is to lay down and die,” said Agatha, launching to her feet.

Everyone turned to her. Tedros gave her a surprised look, as if she had far more courage than him at the moment.

Meanwhile, Agatha felt sweat puddling beneath the crown. She'd stood up before she actually had anything to say.

But then she saw Guinevere in the corner. The old queen
nodded at her with a steely smile and Agatha felt her voice again.

“My mother died to let me live,” Agatha said, still watching Guinevere, as if she was feeding her the words. “For most of my life, I made the mistake of thinking she was clueless. I figured she was old and out of touch and couldn't possibly know how hard it was to be young. Never paid much attention to her, just like me and Tedros discounted all of you when we first came to your cave.”

“Discounted?” Peter heckled. “Your boyfriend called us a retirement home for the about-to-be-dead!”

“Well, you had your own opinions about us, too,” said Agatha. “You thought what my mother did: that young people are careless and thoughtless and have it easy.”

The old heroes grumbled agreement.

“But in the end, my mother knew how to keep me
safe
,” said Agatha. “She didn't just save me from death . . . she also sent me to you. Not to a warrior kingdom, not to a young League of Knights, but to a group of legendary old heroes she knew would protect me. And she was right, wasn't she? That's why I put my faith in you, no matter how little you have in yourselves or in us. Because I might not have listened to my mother while she was alive. But I'm listening to her now.”

Agatha leveled eyes with the League. “Me and my friends will tell you everything we know about the young School Master and his new school. In return, we need you to tell us how to defeat your old enemies. Let Merlin worry about our plan for war. Our job is to listen to each other, Ever and Never,
young and old, no matter how puny our army is. And if anyone doesn't want to be a part of that army, then leave now and see how you fare in the Woods alone.”

Merlin stood up.

All eyes shot to him.

“Oh goodness. I'm not leaving,” he said. “Hips are a bit stiff.”

Laughter rippled through the room.

Agatha saw Tedros smiling at her, his expression soft, as if her words about her mother had meant as much to him as they had to her.

“Well then, now that our new queen has set the tone, the real work begins,” Merlin declared. He swished a finger across the table and tiny marble figurines of each member in the room appeared on top of it. “Each young student will train with an old hero . . .”

Agatha crammed between Hester and Hort, trying to get a view of the table as Merlin paired up the figurines, announcing the training teams: Dot with Red Riding Hood, Anadil with Jack and Briar Rose . . .

Agatha couldn't focus. Her crown was itching terribly and she looked up, hoping Tedros was far enough away that she could take it off—

Only she couldn't see Tedros anywhere.

And now that she was scanning the room, Guinevere wasn't there either.

She heard the front door latch in the hall and glanced back to see a boy's shadow through the window curtain, leading his
mother out to the moors alone.

Hester elbowed her. “Pay
attention
.”

Agatha spun to the table. The wizard was glaring right at her, saying something about her mentor and her assignment in the war to come . . .

But Agatha couldn't stop smiling, because for the briefest of moments, she felt like a war had already been won.

28
Who's Helping Who

T
he thing Tedros liked about girls is that they always started the conversation. Most of the time, his job was just to listen, ask questions, and try to understand what in God's name was going on in their complicated little heads. He rarely had any idea what girls were talking about or why they made everything so torturous in their logic, so playing the role of the strong, silent type usually gave him time to catch up.

But this was different. This was his mother. And he was the one with the storm in his head.

Which meant he was
definitely
going to have to start this conversation.

The breeze over the lush moors was brisk enough that Guinevere had to cling to her lumpy sweater, but Tedros was
sweating like a mule, tugging at his shirt, wishing he could take it off. His chest pummeled like a pressure cooker and the silence between them was only making it worse. He didn't even know where he was taking her—there wasn't some hallowed landmark that would make this any easier—so without warning, he plopped down midstride into the grass, still fidgeting with his sleeves.

Guinevere calmly sat down beside him.

“When we met the Lady of the Lake, Merlin asked her to hide us the way she'd hidden someone before,” said Tedros, not looking at her. “Which means Merlin helped you escape from me and Dad.”

“Merlin knew I was unhappy for a long time,” said Guinevere.

“Father adored you,” Tedros shot back. “He decorated the castle with your portraits, brought you the most extravagant gifts from his quests, and lavished you with attention and affection. He never raised his voice to you or laid a hand on you or deprived you of anything and now you're acting like he was some madman in the attic. So what if he had a few bad habits? No relationship is perfect. Look at me and Agatha—”

“The difference is that Agatha loves you back.”

Her answer disarmed him. Tedros exhaled. “Mother, you couldn't have been unhappy enough to abandon your own
son
.”

“I know. That's why I stayed with your father much longer than I should have,” Guinevere replied. “Believe me when I say I was well educated in the values of Good. I'd been trained by a Dean far less progressive than yours to put king and kingdom
first. I knew full well that no one would forgive a queen who absconds with a knight from her king's court, and for good reason. Even if Lancelot was my true love, the idea of going off with him felt childish, selfish, and deeply Evil. I had a duty to keep my family together.”

“Exactly,”
said Tedros.

“It wasn't as if I could take you with me,” said Guinevere. “That'd be unfair to you, to your father, and a kingdom that needed its future king—”

“Not just unfair, but unconscionable,” Tedros piled on.

“Which is why I told all this to Merlin, hoping he'd condemn such sinful thoughts and force me to focus on the life I'd chosen, not the one I kept imagining.” His mother paused. “Instead he asked me if I so desperately wanted to leave Camelot, why I was still there.”

Tedros looked at her, agog.

“
Why?
Because you have a child! You have a husband! Because that's what you're
supposed
to do! How could he ask you such a stupid question! It's a matter of right and wrong!”

“I was even harsher,” his mother concurred. “I said only a man would have so little regard for a woman's sense of duty. How irresponsible to think this was simply a matter of choice. I couldn't just dump my old life and start a new one. How would I wake up every day knowing I'd left a son behind? He's my child! He's my blood!”

“He needs you,” Tedros fought—

“He needs my
help
,” Guinevere finished.

Both of them were quiet, looking into each other's eyes.

“What did Merlin say?” Tedros asked tightly.

Guinevere's eyes glistened. “He just looked at me and said: ‘
Who's helping who
?'”

Tedros shook his head. “I don't under—”

But he did. His soul did. Tears stung his eyes, washing away his anger.

“To stay with your father would have ruined my life. And it would have ruined your life too,” said Guinevere. “Arthur may have been a wonderful king to his people, a loving father to you, and a faithful husband to me . . . but I loved someone else, Tedros. I'd always loved someone else. And if you found out I'd clung to an unhappy marriage for your sake, you would carry that weight forever. You would know that your mother chose to disavow her own happiness on your behalf. And as much as I wanted to give up my life and stay by your side, I couldn't make that choice for you. Not for a boy with as much courage and compassion as you. Part of your journey was to come to see your mother for who she truly was, not who she pretended to be. Most children would never get past the resentment and wither from the pain. But Merlin knew you were different. He said my leaving wasn't just necessary for my own fate, it was the essential seed of your fate too. It would make you look closer and find
real
love. It would make you the king you needed to be. And even though leaving would strike us both with an indelible wound . . . one day, you would find a way to forgive me.”

Tedros was a mess of tears. “You were my mother. . . . You were my whole life. . . . I wanted to die when you left—”

“But you didn't,” said Guinevere. “And I didn't either, even if I thought I would. For months, I pounded at the moors and screamed at the sky, begging the Lady of the Lake to take me back to you. But Merlin had forbidden her. He came every Sunday that first year to soothe me and tell me stories of what you were up to: how you'd sit in on the advisers' meetings and ask them questions about the kingdom; how you'd hide your vegetables under your rice so the nursemaid wouldn't notice; how you'd sit with Arthur every night after I'd left, even if he wouldn't say a word to you . . . and how you cursed me for days and weeks after he died. I'd make Merlin tell me every detail again and again until I cried myself to sleep.”

She smiled wistfully. “He came less and less as the years went on and soon only on Christmas. But on that one day, I'd feel like a child again, listening to the tale of my own son growing bolder and stronger, his mother's absence fueling his desire to make something of himself. And soon I began to feel bold and strong too, knowing I finally had an honest love instead of a love forced by duty. It didn't matter if Lancelot and I would be alone for the rest of our lives; it didn't matter if we were cast out in disgrace . . . because we'd found
real
Good, instead of a lie, and honored the truth of our stories. Listening to Merlin speak of you, year after year, I started to feel I was living with you, even if I wasn't there, growing younger and younger in spirit while you grew older and older—until here we are, humbled by the blessings of Good, our two stories connected once more. Only now I see Merlin was right. Just as your father made you strong and responsible, my leaving Camelot also
made you the man you are. It made you sensitive, independent, and resilient and led you to your perfect queen. Naturally, it also made you a bit raw and bullheaded—”

“Like Father,” Tedros sniffled.

“No,” said Guinevere sharply. “Your father would never be sitting here with me the way you are right now. Your father could never see that deep down, everything I did was to give all of us a chance to find real happiness. He believed happiness meant something very different. He was a different kind of man . . . a different kind of king. But you can see what he can't, Tedros. That even though your father and I are flawed to our very core, we came together by the grace of our stories to make the most perfect child in the world. And for that, all of our pain is worth it.”

Tedros couldn't speak anymore. His mother clasped him to her chest, letting him cry, his muscles fighting and fighting her until at last they surrendered and he curled against her like a little boy. They stayed that way a long time, until his heaving breaths calmed.

“Does that ogre treat you well?” he croaked, nose running.

Guinevere laughed. “As well as an ogre can treat a lady.”

“'Cause if he doesn't, I'll gouge out his eye,” Tedros puffed.

“I appreciate your chivalry—”

“If he so much as looks at you the wrong way—”

“How many times you gonna threaten to kill me before you cock up and do it, boy,” a voice growled.

Tedros whirled to see Lancelot approaching, while the rest
of the Ever-Never army were gathered in the distance outside the house.

“Though you might want to wait a bit,” said the knight, “considering Merlin just paired the old and young ones up and chose me as your training leader.”

Tedros frowned.

“Come on, lad,” Lancelot smirked, beckoning him towards the others. “Time to show us what you learned at that godforsaken school.”

Guinevere smiled. “Be gentle with him, Lance.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Lancelot said with a wink.

Tedros stayed by his mother's side, watching the knight catch up with the others.

“Go on, now,” Guinevere urged. “You and your queen have a war to win. Can't be wasting time with an old housewife.”

Tedros turned. “You'll be home when I get back?”

The question was so silly and obvious . . . and yet his mother knew what he meant.

“I'm not going anywhere,” she answered flatly.

Tedros nodded, averting his eyes. He rose and started to jog after Lancelot before he stopped and looked at her one last time.

“I love you, Mother.”

He sprinted ahead, ensuring Guinevere didn't have time to say it back.

She didn't need to.

Him saying it was enough for the both of them.

It wasn't long before the first death.

Lady Lesso had been warning from the start that having New students fight Old, bloodthirsty zombies was recklessly stupid, but Sophie felt like the young students had been pampered enough. First, Rafal had protected them from the front line of the coming war. Then, he'd moved war preparations to the School for New, since the old Good castle was warmer and better lit. Then he'd abolished the Doom Room, allowed open access to the Groom Room, and even halted further tracking, ensuring half-mogrified dimwits like Kiko wouldn't be fully turned into animals and plants until after the war.

Enough was enough
, Sophie scowled. She was Training Leader and the training fights would continue as scheduled, no matter what anyone said. It didn't matter if the old villains were injuring and torturing the new students. Evil had a
war
to win, and Evil only learned to be Evil through suffering and pain.

That's how she'd learned, after all. And now her classmates would too.

She'd planned the entire training schedule herself. For the next six days, four hundred villains, Old and New, would be divided amongst the various Evil teachers and rooms. During each class, there were no lectures, no tests, no challenges. Instead, teachers would supervise one-on-one fights between an old zombie and a young student in accordance with a class theme. Each student's schedule consisted of the following sessions: