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 didnâtsound 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 Masterâs return? Agathaâs 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 heartâs cave.
Sophie .
Sophie, who sheâd loved through Good and Evil. Sophie, who sheâd 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.
Agathaâs 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 hadnât failed by choosing a prince over her best friend . . . but in making that choice at all.
âI think about her too.â
She turned and saw Tedros at the window, watching her, his mouth trembling. âAbout how we just left her,â he rasped, eyes welling. âI know sheâs a bad friend, I know sheâs 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?â Tears spilled down his stubbled cheeks. âI donât want you to leave your mother. I really donât. But weâre not happy, Agatha. Because the villainâs still alive. Because weâre not heroes at all. Weâre . . . cowards.â
Agatha looked into her princeâs messy, earnest face, and remembered why she loved him. âThis isnât our happy ending, is it?â 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
âM aybe we have to close our eyes,â said Tedros.
âOr do a rain dance in pajamas while singing âRing Around the Rosie,ââ Agatha grumped, Reaper fast asleep in her lap. âItâs past dinnertime and Iâm starving. How many times can we try this?â
âOh Iâm sorry. Do you have somewhere better to be at the moment?â
Agatha watched a roach mosey by, cram under the double-locked front door, and disappear. âYou have a point,â she said, and shut her eyes.
âAll right,â Tedros sucked in, closing his eyes. âOne . . . two . . . three!â
Agatha scrunched up her face, Tedros did too, and both of them thrust their index fingers