The Last Ever After (6 page)

“You and I can duel like men,” Tedros threatened. “But leave my princess
alone
.”

The guard stared at him strangely . . . then lifted his gaze. His pupils froze, reflecting Agatha behind Tedros, prostrate on the floor.

In a flash, he threw Tedros aside, knocking the prince to the floorboards. But the guard's eyes stayed on Agatha.

She trembled as his boots crackled through the bleeding eggs, step by step, until he placed his sharp, filthy shoe tip upon her neck.

He took off his mask.

“So much for promises,” Stefan snarled.

The cage was meant for only one prisoner, not three, so Agatha had to stand with her mother, Reaper curled in Callis' arms, while Tedros crouched in a daze, clutching his black eye. Back at the house, Agatha told him not to resist, but Tedros assured her Camelot's future king could flatten six armed guards with his bare hands.

He'd been wrong.

Agatha held on to the rusty bars, tottering for balance, as the horse dragged the cage through the darkened cemetery, Stefan at the reins. She could see a crowd forming in front of the torchlit pyre, watching the guards march down the hill ahead of the prisoners.

“That was your punishment for letting me escape, wasn't it? The Elders made you a guard,” Agatha said, turning to her mother. “That's why they never searched the house. Because you were with them, protecting the town from your own daughter.”

Callis paled as she saw the distant pyre, two fiery torches hanging from its scaffolding. “When the people blamed you and Sophie for the attacks, the Elders named me and Stefan leaders of a new patrol, responsible for catching you two if you ever dared return. It was a test of our loyalty, of course. Either we saw our own children as traitors and vowed to make them burn or we'd be burned as traitors ourselves.” She looked at Agatha. “The difference between Stefan and me is that he took the vow seriously.”

“How could Stefan betray his own daughter? It was the Elders who gave Sophie to the attackers.
They're
the Evil ones! Why would he obey them—”

But as the cage creaked into the moonlit square, Agatha saw the answer to her question. The widow Honora and her two young boys, Jacob and Adam, huddled near the back of the growing crowd, watching Stefan lead in the prisoners. Agatha knew how much the two boys meant to Sophie's father, who seemed to love them far more than his own daughter. But it wasn't the boys that Agatha fixed on. It was the gold band, gleaming on the ring finger of Honora's left hand.

“He had to obey them,” Callis said quietly. “Because the Elders made Stefan choose between his old and new family.”

Agatha looked at her, stunned.

“Leave it to me,” a voice groused under them.

Tedros careened to his feet between Agatha and her mother, knocking both of them against the bars. “They've woken the beast,” he boiled, struggling to blink his swollen eye. “No one's laying a
hand
on us.”

The cage door swung open behind him and two guards gagged Tedros with a mucky cloth and hoisted him out by his armpits, before roughly nabbing Callis too. Before Agatha could react, Stefan leapt into the cage and took her for himself.

“Stefan, listen to me—Sophie needs our help—” Agatha appealed as he pulled her through the crowd, who was abusing her with cries of “witch” and “traitor” along with chunks of spoiled food. “I know you have a new family, but you can't give up on her—”

“Give up? You think I gave
up
? On my own
child
?” he seethed, pulling her up the stairs to the pyre behind Tedros, who kicked at his guards with muffled yells. “You promised me, Agatha. You
promised
you'd save her. And instead you left her there to die. Now you'll see how it feels.”

“Stefan, we can still save her!” sputtered Agatha. “Tedros and me!”

“I always thought one day my daughter would abandon you for a boy,” said Stefan. “Turns out I had the story all
wrong.”

He bound her to the pyre with a long rope around her belly, as two guards shoved Tedros in next to her. Agatha could feel the heat of the flaming torches above her.

“Stefan, you have to believe me! We're Sophie's only hope—”

He gagged her with a black cloth, but just as he cinched it, Agatha managed one last breath—

“The School Master has her!”

Stefan's hands froze and his blue eyes met hers, big and wide. Then a hush swept over the crowd and Agatha knew her time was up.

The Elders had come.

4
Death at an Execution

“I
'm afraid we only have room for two on the pyre,” said the gray-cloaked Elder with the longest beard, grinning at Agatha and Tedros as he paced the stage, top hat in hand. He leered down at Callis at the front of the massive crowd, her hands tied, standing between the two younger Elders, both in gray cloaks and tall black hats. “We'll let mother
watch
before her turn,” he mused, as the two Elders dragged Callis into the mob.

Agatha spotted Reaper's shadow sprinting away from her mother and towards Graves Hill, a scrap of what looked like parchment
between his teeth. Trapped on the pyre, she wrestled hopelessly against her binds, sweating from the heat of the torches above her. If her mother had entered the house one second later, she and Tedros would have had their magic back—they'd be far into the Woods by now, her mother no longer in danger. Stifling tears, Agatha searched for her again, but darkness rendered the crowd a sea of shadows. They'd called her a witch from the day she was born, destined to burn on a stake, and now they'd made their tales come true. In the front row, a few rosy-faced children gawked at Tedros, clinging storybooks to their chests, like talismans against the boy from inside of them.

“But we are not savages, of course,” said the Elder, turning to the captives. “Justice is only delivered when there is a crime.”

The crowd buzzed impatiently, eager to see the show and get to bed.

“Let us meet our guest from the Woods,” the Elder proclaimed. His shiny eyes flicked to Tedros. “What is your name, boy?”

A guard ripped out Tedros' gag. “Touch her and I kill you,” the prince lashed.

The Elder raised his brows. “Ah, I see,” he said, peering between Tedros and Agatha. “For two hundred years, those from the Woods have kidnapped our young, ripped apart our families, and attacked our homes. For two hundred years, those from the Woods have brought our children nothing but terror, pain, and suffering. And here you are, the first to ever stand before us, claiming to
protect
one? An improbable twist . . .” He studied the way Tedros looked at Agatha, his tone easing.
“But if it's true, perhaps mercy is in the cards after all. Only the hardest of hearts can resist young love.”

The crowd rumbled, as if they'd cast their own hearts in stone to see vengeance for all the curses of the Woods. But as Agatha searched the Elder's face, the old man's smile was almost friendly now.

“You'll let us live?” Tedros insisted.

Agatha's heart hammered, praying her prince had just saved them.

The Elder touched Tedros' chest with a shriveled hand. Tedros winced, his wound still tender. “You're young and handsome, with your whole life ahead of you,” the Elder cooed. “Tell us what you know about those that attacked us and I promise we won't hurt you.”

Agatha's stomach sank. That tone. She'd heard it before. It was the same way he'd told Sophie she'd be sheltered from her assassins . . .

Before he left her to die.

Agatha pressed her fist into Tedros' ribs. Whatever he did, he couldn't play this game—

“Tedros,” the prince proclaimed to the Elder. “Tedros is my name.”

Agatha bristled, shoving him harder.

“And how do you know our beloved Agatha, Tedros?” coaxed the Elder, leaning closer.

“She's my princess,” Tedros declared, gently clasping Agatha's fist. “Soon to be
Queen
of Camelot and bloodline to King Arthur, so I suggest you unhand us at once.”

The mob quieted in disbelief, children clutching their storybooks tighter. (Red-haired Radley gaped goonishly at Agatha. “Must be slim pickings in the Woods,” he murmured.)

“A real-life prince!” The Elder stepped back. For the first time, he looked unsettled by Tedros, as if forced to acknowledge the possibility of a world bigger than his own. “And to what do we owe this honor?”

Agatha squirmed against her binds, trying to get Tedros to look at her.

“I'm taking her to my castle in the Woods,” Tedros testified, eyes fixed on the Elder. “We pose absolutely no threat to you.”

“And yet we were attacked only months ago by assassins from the Woods,” the Elder said, masses clamoring behind him. “Attacks from which we are still rebuilding.”

“Well, the attacks are over,” retorted Tedros. “Your town is safe.”

Agatha dug her heel into his foot. Tedros shook her off.

“Oh really? Do your princely powers come with foresight?” the Elder scoffed, the audience echoing his laughter. “How would you know anything about the fate of our town, let alone the attacks?”

Agatha shouted into her gag to stop him—

“Because I ordered them,” Tedros fired.

The crowd went still. Agatha slumped against the rope.

The Elder stared at Tedros . . . then broke into a slow grin, color growing in his cheeks. “Well. We've learned all we need to know about our dear guest, haven't we?” He smiled
wolfishly at the prince and walked off the stage, passing Stefan with a glare. “Do the witch first.”

Roars detonated from the mob, flocking closer to the pyre.

Tedros spun to Agatha and saw her face. “But he promised us!” he cried.

The Elder glanced back as he descended the steps. “Every story has a lesson doesn't it, young prince? Perhaps yours is that you're too old to believe in fairy tales.”

Agatha felt Tedros gush into a sweat as the guards regagged him. Frantic, the prince thrashed at the rope, trying to free his princess, but his flailing only made the rope cut tighter. Choking for breath, Agatha hunted wildly for her mother, but still couldn't find her. She whirled to Stefan, knowing she was about to die—

But Stefan hadn't moved from the side of the stage, his gaze fixed on her.

“Is there a problem, Stefan?” the Elder said, now at the front of the mass.

Stefan kept staring at Agatha.

“Or should we replace our prisoners with your new family?” the Elder said.

Stefan turned sharply. Guards held Honora, Jacob, and Adam in the crowd.

Stefan's teeth bit the inside of his cheeks. Then his expression darkened. He moved towards Agatha, no longer able to look at her. Body close to hers, he reached up and took a flaming torch from the scaffolding. Agatha cowered from the wrath of the flame as he drew it down, blinding her with smoke. She
could hear Tedros' muffled yells, the echoes of the shouting hordes, but they were drowned out by the raging torch fire, hissing like a demon snake. Eyes watering, she caught flashes of Stefan's heaving chest, his quivering grasp on the torch, the red splotches across his cheeks . . .

“Please—” Agatha gasped into her gag.

Stefan still couldn't look at her, the torch shaking so much that embers scattered onto Agatha's dress, burning tiny holes.

“Stefan . . . ,” the Elder warned in a menacing voice.

Stefan nodded, tears and sweat mixing. The crowd went dead quiet, seeing him bend towards the stake. He raised the torch to the sticks over Agatha's head, the flames about to lick onto the wood—

“Take me!”
Callis' anguished voice pierced the silence. “Please, Stefan! Let me die with her!”

Stefan froze, his flame so close to Agatha it scorched the gag in her mouth. Heart stopped, Agatha watched him deliberate a moment, his face calcifying into a mask . . .

Then he backed away and turned to the Elder.

“It
is
a mother's last request,” said Stefan, adding a snort. “Shove her in with her traitor daughter and watch the flesh melt off 'em. They deserve to writhe together, don't they?”

Even the most bloodthirsty spectators looked flummoxed, deferring to the Elder.

The Elder's pupils raked Stefan over, before his lips pursed in a flat line.

“
Quickly
then.”

“No!” Agatha shrieked, her gag breaking away.

Guards wrenched Callis from the crowd onto the stage and shoved her next to Agatha, binding her waist to the pyre. Helpless, Tedros ripped at the rope, his bicep veins about to burst.

“This is my fault . . . ,” Agatha sobbed. “This is all my fault—”

“Close your eyes, dear,” said Callis, trying not to cry. “It will all go fast from here.”

Agatha looked up and saw Stefan's hand wasn't shaking on the torch anymore. With an eerie calm, he advanced towards her and her mother, the dancing flame reaching for the wood sticks between them. He finally met Agatha's eyes, a strange sadness in his face.

“If you ever see my daughter again, beyond this world . . . tell her I love her.”

“
Now
, Stefan,” the Elder commanded.

Petrified, Agatha seized Tedros' hand as she leaned into her mother's shoulder. She saw Stefan looking at Callis, his lips trembling.

“I'm s-s-sorry,” he whispered.

“You saved me once upon a time, Stefan.” Callis smiled mournfully at him. “I owe you a debt.”

“I c-c-can't,” Stefan faltered.

“You must,” said Callis, hard as steel.

“NOW!” the Elder thundered.

With a pained cry, Stefan plunged the torch at Callis. Agatha screamed—

Callis thrust out her finger from beneath the binds and shot a blast of green light at the torch. The fire turned green
and ricocheted off the pyre like a comet, blasting Stefan off the platform, before circling the stage in a wall of green flames, sealing the captives in.

Before Agatha could suck in a breath, her mother cut her and Tedros loose from the rope with her glowing fingertip. She grabbed Agatha and spoke over the villagers' cries beyond the firewall—

“The spell won't last, so listen carefully. Stefan knew what I was, Agatha. From the night you went after Sophie, we had a plan to save you girls from the Elders if you ever returned. Stefan would do anything to keep his daughter safe. But when you came back without Sophie, Stefan had no reason to keep to the plan and endanger his new family . . . unless he believes his daughter still needs you. You must repay my old debt to him, Agatha. You must save Sophie as Stefan saved you. You hear me?
Do not fail
. Now run for Graves Hill as fast as you can—”

“You're a w-w-witch—” Agatha spluttered, trying to find air. “You were a witch all along—”

“The grave between the two swans. Help will be there, waiting for you,” her mother cut in. “You must find the grave before it's too late.”

Dazed, Tedros turned to Agatha, expecting her to know what her mother was talking about. But Agatha was paralyzed, staring ahead. Tedros spun back to Callis. “Who? Who will be waiting for u—”

Only now Tedros saw what his princess was looking at . . . the circle of fire falling around the stage, Callis' spell about to end. In the green firelight, Agatha glimpsed Stefan, stunned
on the ground but unharmed, before a fleet of shadows jumped over him, throttling towards the stage. Tedros and Agatha raised their eyes at the same time to see the guards charging through the crowd with spears, dashing right for them.