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
“Maybe 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?”