The Last Ever After (5 page)

“What happened to us?”

As the fourth week went on, Tedros and Agatha stopped spending time together. Tedros ceased his manic workouts and sat hunched at the kitchen window, unshaven and dirty, silently looking out at the Endless Woods. He was homesick, Agatha told herself, just as she'd once been in his world. But each day, a darker anguish settled into his face, and she knew it was deeper than homesickness—it was the guilt of knowing that somewhere out there, in a land far away, there would soon be no new king to take the crown from the old. But Agatha had nothing to say to make him feel better, nothing that didn't
sound self-serving or trite, and hid beneath her bedcovers, reading her old storybooks again and again.

Gazing at beautiful princesses kissing dashing princes, she wondered how her Ever After had gone rancid. All these fairy tales had tied up so neatly and satisfyingly . . . while the more she thought about her own, the more loose ends seemed to appear. What had happened to her friends: to Dot, Hester, Anadil, who had risked their lives for her during the Trial? What had happened to the Girls, charging into war against Aric and the Boys? Or to Lady Lesso and Professor Dovey, now faced with the School Master's return? Agatha's chest clamped. What if the School Master started kidnapping children from Gavaldon again? She thought about the parents who would lose more daughters and sons . . . about Tristan and how his parents would learn about his death . . . about the balance in the Woods, tilting to death and Evil . . . about her once Evil best friend, left to fend for herself . . .

Sophie.

This time no anger came at the name. Only an echo, like the password to her heart's cave.

Sophie
.

Sophie, who she'd loved through Good and Evil. Sophie, who she'd loved through Boys and Girls. Sophie, who she vowed to protect forever, young or old, until death did them part.

How do you turn your back on your best friend? How do you leave them behind?

For a boy.

Shame colored her cheeks.

For a boy who can barely stand the sight of me anymore.

Agatha's heart shrank as small and hard as a pebble. All this time, she thought she had to choose between Sophie and Tedros to find a happy ending. And yet, each time she picked one over the other, the story twisted back upon itself and the world fell out of balance more than before. Every thought of Sophie, alone in a tower with a deadly villain, brought on more guilt, more pregnant fear, as if she was trapped in a purgatory of her own making, as if she hadn't failed by choosing a prince over her best friend . . . but in making that choice at all.

“I think about her too.”

She turned and saw Tedros at the window, watching her, his mouth trembling. “About how we just left her,” he rasped, eyes welling. “I know she's a bad friend, I know she's Evil, I know Filip was a lie . . . but we just left her . . . with that
monster
. We left all of them. The whole school . . . just to save ourselves. What kind of prince is that, Agatha? What would my father think of me?” Tears spilled down his stubbled cheeks. “I don't want you to leave your mother. I really don't. But we're not happy, Agatha. Because the villain's still alive. Because we're not heroes at all. We're . . . cowards.”

Agatha looked into her prince's messy, earnest face, and remembered why she loved him. “This isn't our happy ending, is it?” she breathed.

Tedros smiled, his old glow returning.

And for the first time since they came home, Agatha smiled too.

3
The New or the Old

“M
aybe we have to close our eyes,” said Tedros.

“Or do a rain dance in pajamas while singing ‘Ring Around the Rosie,'” Agatha grumped, Reaper fast asleep in her lap. “It's past dinnertime and I'm starving. How many times can we try this?”

“Oh I'm sorry. Do you have somewhere better to be at the moment?”

Agatha watched a roach mosey by, cram under the double-locked front door, and disappear. “You have a point,” she said, and shut her eyes.

“All right,” Tedros sucked in, closing his eyes. “One . . . two . . . three!”

Agatha scrunched up her face, Tedros did too, and both of them thrust their index fingers at the other. They exhaled at the same time and opened their eyes.

Neither of their fingertips was glowing.

Tedros peered closely at Agatha's. “You bite your nails too much.”

“Oh for crying out loud. We can't get into the Woods unless our magic comes back,” she barked, shoving her hand in her pocket. “Magic follows emotion. That's what we learned at school. You said it yourself! If we both make the wish at the same time, the gates should open—”

“Unless one of us is having doubts,” said Tedros.

“Then I suggest you get over them,” Agatha huffed, standing up. “Let's try in the morning. Mother's never this late. She'll be here any second—”

“Agatha.”

She saw Tedros giving her that lopsided grin . . . the one that said he knew exactly what she was thinking, even if she was doing everything she could to keep it from him.

“You're smarter than you look,” she groused, sitting back down.

“And you're the one famous for not judging books by their covers.” He scooted next to her. “Look, if you want to say goodbye to your mother first—”

“That'll just make the doubts worse,” mumbled Agatha. “How do you tell your mother you're leaving her forever?”

“Wouldn't know. My mother left me without saying goodbye,” Tedros replied.

Agatha looked at him, suddenly feeling very stupid. Tedros slid closer. “What is it, my love?” he asked. “What are you really afraid of?”

Agatha felt panic rising, something coming up she couldn't keep down—

“What if I'm the problem?” she blurted. “Every time I try to be happy, it goes wrong. First with Sophie, then with you, and all I can think of is that it's not us who's broken . . . it's
me
. The girl who ruins everyone's story. The girl who's meant to be alone. That's why I'm afraid to leave my mother. Because what if I'm not supposed to be with you, Tedros? What if I'm supposed to end here, just like her, never finding love at all?”

Tedros froze, taken aback.

Slowly Agatha felt the air return to her lungs, as if a boulder had lifted off her chest.

Her prince traced his finger between bricks in the floor. “We only see the finished storybooks, Agatha. How do we know every Ever After doesn't take a few tries? Think about it. Each time you left the Woods, you tried to come back to your old life. But this time is different, isn't it? When we get to our true ending, you'll have a new life with me. We'll have my kingdom to protect, until we're old ourselves and it's time to pass it on. Just like my father did and his father and all who came before.”

Looking at him, Agatha realized how selfish and small-hearted she'd been by keeping her prince here.

“I promise,” he said, squeezing her hand. “This time, we
will
be happy.”

“All right, say we do get back to the School for Good and Evil,” Agatha allowed. “What's our plan?”

“Make things right, of course,” Tedros puffed. “Rescue Sophie, kill the School Master, take back Excalibur, free the other students, and you and I go to Camelot in time for my sixteenth birthday, and coronation as king. The End.” He paused. “The real End.”

Agatha made a sound halfway between a cough and a sneeze.

“All right, Sophie can come too, if you're going to be difficult about it,” he sighed.

“Tedros, my love,” said Agatha cuttingly. “You think we can just waltz through the school gates and kill the School Master like we're buying bonbons from the bakery?”

“I think buying anything from the bakery would pose far more obstacles at the moment,” said Tedros, eyeing the triple-locked door.

Agatha let go of him and braced for a fight. “First off, the School Master is an all-powerful sorcerer who last we saw came back from death, turned young again, and stabbed you with your own sword. Second, for all we know, he's killed the Evers and has everyone on his side. And third, you don't think he'll have guards and traps and—”

“Merlin had a saying: ‘Worrying doesn't solve problems. Just gives you gas,'” Tedros yawned.

“I take back the smarter than you look thing,” Agatha groaned. Her cat stirred and staggered out of her arms, but not before spitting in Tedros' lap. The prince backhanded it and
Reaper fled, throwing Agatha a horrible scowl at her choice of mate.

“He used to love me,” Agatha said, watching her cat gnaw the head off a dead canary.

“Agatha, look at me.”

“Tedros, you don't even have your sword, let alone a plan. We're going to die.”

“Agatha, please look at me.”

She did, with folded arms.

“You can't plan your story any more than you can plan who you're going to fall in love with. That's the point of a story,” said Tedros. “And even if you could, what's the fun of living through it if you know what's going to happen? All we know is that Good always wins, right? So if Good hasn't beaten Evil yet, our fairy tale
can't
be over. As soon as we make our wish, we'll be back where we belong, chasing our happy ending. Trust our story, Agatha. We'll know what to do when the time comes.”

“And what about Sophie?” Agatha asked. “What if she hasn't forgiven us?”

Tedros thought for a moment. “Everything Sophie did, she did to get closer to you or me. We've all made mistakes, that's for sure. But Good or Evil, Boy or Girl, the three of us are in this tale together.” He leveled eyes with her. “So how can Sophie be happy until we are?”

Agatha fell quiet, aware of the dark room hemming her in with her prince and yet keeping them apart.

Long before she ever met her best friend, she'd secretly read
storybooks from Mr. Deauville's, buying them right after the shop opened, when no one else was inside, and paying for them with the coins her mother had given her for sweets. She drank in the lesson of those fairy-tale books more than any hot cream or fudge, that same lesson told and retold: you didn't need a hundred true loves to find Ever After . . . you just needed
one
. It didn't matter if an entire town called her a freak or a witch or a vampire. If she could just find that one person who loved her—one measly soul—then she'd have everything a princess did, minus the horrific pink dress, obnoxious blond hair, and moony-eyed face.

From the moment she met Sophie, Sophie
was
that soul: the friend who made her feel normal, who made her feel needed, who so clearly cared about her, despite all her efforts to disguise it. Back then, Agatha had done everything she could to ensure they'd end up together forever, rather than let her best friend be stolen away by a boy . . . until Agatha somehow fell in love with that boy herself. And so the story had turned on its head, this time Sophie doing everything she could to keep a boy and her best friend apart. It was a wicked love triangle, with Sophie the point that had to be removed, until finally Agatha and Tedros had rid themselves of her, turning that triangle into a straight line between them—prince and princess united at last, just like in the storybooks buried under her bed. But now, as Agatha sat in darkness, feeling more and more like the graveyard girl of old, she wondered if the reason she missed her best friend was the simplest of all. What if Sophie wasn't the force that kept her and Tedros apart? What if Sophie was the force
that brought them together?

Without Sophie, she never could have opened up her heart.

Without Sophie, she never could have learned to love.

Without Sophie, there never could have been a Tedros and Agatha.

“Princess? What is it?”

Agatha slowly looked up at her prince, new life in her eyes. “Let's go find our best friend.”

Tedros blinked at her, stunned. His cheeked pinked and his Adam's apple bobbed, words swallowed by emotion. He placed his hand behind his back. “Wish to reopen our story, then?”

Agatha smiled and hid her hand. “Wish to reopen our story.”

Tedros closed his eyes. “One . . .”

“Two . . . ,” said Agatha, closing hers.

They took a joint breath and thrust out their fingers.
“Three—”

The door slammed open to a sharp heel-crack of boots. Agatha lurched to her feet.

There was an Elderguard in the doorway, the outlines of a black cloak and slatted iron mask blending into the night.

Tedros instantly clasped Agatha and yanked her to the kitchen wall. He grabbed a meat knife from the sink and brandished it at the guard, blocking his princess's body with his. “Move another inch and I'll cut your throat!” Tedros spat.

The guard threw the door shut and hissed back at them. “
Hide!
Both of you!”

Agatha squinted at the big brown eyes glinting through the guard's mask.
“Mother?
”

“Hide
now
!” Callis shrieked, shoring her body against the door.

Agatha couldn't move, trying to process what was happening, gaping at her mother in the same uniform as the town guards ordered to execute her. “I d-d-don't under—”

But then Agatha heard them coming . . . footsteps . . . voices . . .

She tackled Tedros to the ground. Stunned, the prince lost his grip on the knife and flailed to reach it as Agatha yanked him by the belt buckle under the bed. Tedros lunged over her and snatched the knife—

The door flung open and Agatha spun to see Callis seized from behind and shoved to the wall by two guards.

“No!” Agatha gasped, leaping out, but Tedros pulled her down under the bed, fumbling his knife at the same time. He stabbed his hand for it, only to see Agatha's hip knock it away. In horror, they both watched the blade skid across the floor and halt beneath the heel of a muddy leather boot. Slowly their eyes traced up.

A tall guard prowled into the house, teeth bared through his mask. From his pocket, he pulled a fistful of eggs, rolling them around in his big hand like marbles.

“First time I saw her stealing them, I thought maybe she can't afford to pay. Second time, I thought maybe she's gone hungry. But the third time . . .” He let the eggs drop and splatter at Callis' feet. “I wonder who's she stealing 'em
for
.”

He spun and kicked aside the bed, revealing Tedros, unarmed and fists up. The guard's brutal blue eyes honed in on the prince.