The Last Ever After

by Soman Chainani

  Merlin, Agatha, and Tedros all turned to Sophie.

  “I don’t understand, Sophie,” Tedros said, glaring at the gold circle on her finger. “What are you waiting for?”

  Sophie bristled. “Teddy, look dear! What a lovely lunch Merlin’s served us! You must be famished.” She pulled him down to the picnic spread before looking up at Agatha. “You and Merlin best be on your way, shouldn’t you, Aggie? Don’t want any villains catching us here in broad daylight.”

  Agatha could see Merlin about to expound on the wonder of Gillikin fairies, but she nudged him and Merlin grinned oafishly, picking up the hint.

  Later, as the two of them crossed the abandoned lake village of Urthur, hopping between what seemed like an enormous game board of waterpuddles, Agatha could still see Merlin smiling. She assumed it was because there was something primal about jumping over puddles reflecting the pink-and-blue sunset, clearing hurdles or missing by inches and splish-sploshing ice-cold water with giggly shrieks, like two children playing leapfrog.

  But Merlin wasn’t smiling at any of that.

  He was smiling at Agatha.

  Not just because it was she who’d known to give her friends privacy on that hill instead of him or that it was the wizard now huffing and puffing to keep up with the student . . .

  But because in the four hours since she’d left her prince and friend to their own story, his wise, young Agatha hadn’t looked back once.

  23

  Two Queens

  Sophie watched Agatha recede on the trail, smaller, smaller, until she was a speck on the horizon.

  “Sophie, it’ll take thirty seconds!”

  She swiveled to Tedros. “Absolutely not. I’m not watching you urinate in broad daylight.”

  “Why can’t you turn around—”

  “And listen to it? As if I’m in a horse trough?”

  “Sophie, if I don’t pee I’m going to explode and I can’t leave you alone on a hill, even with Gillie fairies scouting for us.” Tedros inhaled a lump of chicken pot pie and shifted in his shorts, looking highly uncomfortable. “Suppose one of the zombie villains shows up?”

  “Then I’ll defend myself, thank you. Besides I can think of nothing more villainous than you swaying back and forth, tugging at your pants like you’re doing some baleful interpretive dance,” said Sophie, reaching for watercress, only to see it magically devoured. “These fairies come a close second. Now hurry before Hort gets here and challenges you to a duel.”

  Tedros stood as Sophie nibbled on a watercress leaf. “Don’t eat all the pie,” he cracked.

  Sophie smiled coyly and watched the prince dart down the slope. Beyond the hillcrests, she glimpsed the beginnings of Gavaldon behind a protective shield, and her smile flattened. Rafal’s ring suddenly felt like a heavy weight on her finger.

  I have to destroy it soon, she thought.

  Old heroes were dying because of her, Good’s stories were turning Evil because of her, Readers were in danger because of her. Smash the ring with Excalibur here and now and their fairy tale would end before Rafal ever made it to Gavaldon—storybook closed, sun restored, Good and Evil back the way they once were.

  Sophie nervously picked at the pie.

  She couldn’t do it.

  She needed that kiss first.

  Once Tedros finally kissed her, he’d feel it in their lips like an answer to a riddle: that they were meant for each other from the first day they locked eyes at the Welcoming.

  But destroy the ring without that kiss and she’d have nothing to ensure their Ever After. No matter how many heroes’ lives were on the line, she couldn’t throw away her own happy ending to save theirs. Martyrdom sounded Good in theory, but in reality, it was pointless, idealistic, insane. Even with all of Good in peril, no one in their right mind would willingly sacrifice their true love—

  Agatha would, thought Sophie.

  Agatha would do whatever it took to save Good, just like Agatha had found it in her heart to let her best friend and Tedros have a chance at Ever After, risking her own . . . while Sophie had tried to kill Agatha for the same offense.

  I’m Evil. Sophie swallowed. Definitely Evil.

  So what made her think she could end up with Good’s greatest prince?

  She caressed Tedros’ name on her skin beneath the cold, metal ring.

  Her heart had promised he was her true love.

  And hearts don’t lie.

  “I was kidding about you eating the pie,” a boy’s voice said behind her, “but maybe I shouldn’t have been.”

  Sophie glanced down and saw she’d drained almost all of it.

  “Stress eating,” she mumbled, and looked up to see Tedros looming over her, the sun shadowing his wind-chilled face. He pulled Excalibur from its sheath, the silver blade nearly blinding Sophie with its glare.

  “One blow will take care of every last one of our stresses. That’s all we need from you, Sophie. One hard blow.”

  Sophie started fussing with the picnic plates, scooping the leftovers into one. “We really should get on. The other two are far enough along by now—”

  “I don’t understand girls,” said Tedros, plopping into crinkly tulips. “You leave Rafal, but you won’t destroy his ring. You hire Hort as a bodyguard, but you want to travel with me. You act like you live on air and leaves, but you pillage a whole pie in twenty seconds. Not that I’m complaining. So many Evergirls won’t eat in front of boys because they think it makes them look, I don’t know . . . human? Trust me. Every boy would rather have a girl who eats.”

  “So that’s why you and Agatha got along. I’ve seen that girl wolf down garlic-fried sausage,” said Sophie, remembering how she’d abused Agatha for hours afterward over her breath. “Oh, Agatha,” she whispered. “Silly, wonderful Agatha.”

  She looked up and saw Tedros flinch, as if the name had stung him.

  The prince caught her staring and walked away. “You’re right. Shouldn’t linger until the weasel comes along.”

  “He’ll be hungry, won’t he?” said Sophie, bunching dead tulips into a mound and topping it with the leftovers plate, so Hort wouldn’t miss it. “He really is a nice boy. Just wants to protect me from being hurt, even if he doesn’t love me anymore. Poured his heart out in the steam bath at school. Well, after all I’ve done to him, making sure he has his lunch is the least I can do.”

  She scraped to her knees to get up and saw Tedros halted on the path, smirking at her. “What?” she asked.

  “Who knew you had feelings?” he marveled, and hiked ahead.

  Sophie pinked in surprise.

  Maybe a wee bit Good after all, she thought.

  “And who knew you took steam baths with Hort?” she heard Tedros say.

  Thank goodness I have proper shoes for once, Sophie thought, pattering along the trail in snug, pink booties.

  They’d been at it for six hours straight, with only a few short breaks to fill water tins and rest weary knees. (Sophie did a few yoga poses to stretch until she saw Tedros gawking and decided yoga was best done in private.) It was dark now and they could only see the trail by magical embers of white light Merlin had left behind like breadcrumbs. Before they departed Headquarters, he’d told them when they reached the last light crumb on the path, it was his signal to camp for the night.

  From Gillikin, the trail had led them out of Ever strongholds into Never territory—Ravenbow by afternoon, with its steaming rivers of blood and castles of bone, then Magalae at sunset, with its rope bridges across crog-filled sludge pits, then Drupathi in the moonlight, a land of orange tree blossoms and papaya-colored fruit, completely out of place amongst the sinister Never Lands and withering Woods, until Sophie had glimpsed the dunes of dead flies beneath the trees and realized everything here was toxic.

  All through the Never Lands, Sophie had seen pairs of eyes flickering beyond the trail, yellow, red, and green, accompanied by growls and hisses in the underbrush. Still, nothing attacked and she ventured that as long as the
y stayed within the boundaries of Merlin’s light, they’d be safe from harm.

  Tedros snorted. “Oh please, no one’s afraid of an old wizard’s magic. They’re afraid of a young, strapping prince with his father’s sword. Until Evil actually seals a Never After, they know Good still always wins.”

  “Tell that to once-dead zombie villains who have nothing to lose,” said Sophie. “Do you know what safe house Merlin is taking us to?”

  “Not a clue. Nowhere in the Woods is safe, if you ask me.”

  “What about that strange purple sky we hid in during the escape?”

  “The Celestium? It’s just a place for Merlin to think. Air’s too thin up there to breathe for more than a few hours. Even if there was a safe house in the Woods somewhere, the Dark Army could easily find us. It has to be a place no one knows. A place Merlin’s stashed secrets before.” Tedros stopped and exhaled his frustration. “Will you really not tell me why you’re still wearing that ring?”

  “It’s your birthday in a few weeks, isn’t it?” Sophie pivoted deftly. “No wonder you’re being extra careful about your choice of a princess.”

  Tedros hesitated, as if unsure whether to pursue the old subject or the new.

  “I’m ready to be king,” he said finally, tramping on. “Been parentless for years now, so I’m not of those sheltered brats, who’ll put himself before his people like some young kings. Not that the people are expecting much. Camelot’s been a bloody mess since my father died. His council is supposed to be running the realm until I’m sixteen and instead they’re starving people, executing dissidents, and hoarding his gold. No matter. I’ll throw them in the dungeons on my first day as king.” He looked at Sophie. “We’ll make my father’s kingdom new again.”

  A kinetic shock lit up Sophie’s body.

  “We’ll?”

  Had it been a slip? Or was it deliberate?

  She saw Tedros still looking at her, as if expecting her to contribute to a conversation she’d started. “Oh I’m sure we . . . you . . . yes, it’ll be glorious, won’t it?” Sophie bumbled. “But what about your mother? Last year you said there was a death warrant on—”

  “Not something I think about,” Tedros clipped. “Probably dead by now anyway. No one ever saw her or Lancelot again after the night they left.”

  Sophie raised her brows. “You’re supposed to execute your own mother and it’s not something you think about?”

  “Look, my mother’s a cold, selfish deserter, but she’s not vicious,” said Tedros, puffing on his thick blond bangs. “Last place she’d come back to is Camelot, knowing her son would have to kill her.” His face clouded over. “Doesn’t stop her from invading my dreams though.”

  Sophie knew what it was like to be haunted by a mother that was gone forever. “What was she like? Beautiful, I imagine.”

  “Not at all. That’s the odd part. Dad was so much more handsome, dynamic, and fun. Mother was gangly, anxious, and mousy. Only came alive when she was talking about books or tending animals. Zero clue why Father or any other man fawned over her,” said Tedros, grimacing. “But it serves Dad right for picking a girl who wasn’t good enough. Lancelot was more on my mother’s level. Had a horrible face, poor chap, but simpleminded and a sturdy knight. Mediocrity needs mediocrity, I suppose.”

  “I can’t sympathize,” Sophie sighed. “Could you ever imagine leaving someone charismatic and beautiful for someone perfectly average?”

  She saw Tedros stiffen and glance away, as if shutting down this conversation.

  Suddenly Sophie understood.

  Tedros didn’t need to imagine leaving someone beautiful and charismatic for someone average. He already had when he left her for Agatha their first year.

  Sophie thought of the way he’d flinched when she mentioned her friend’s name back in Gillikin—just like he was now, his cheeks blotched red.

  “We’ll” didn’t mean him and Sophie.

  “We’ll” meant him and Agatha.

  It didn’t matter if he’d promised to give her a chance.

  Words couldn’t change a prince’s heart.

  A heart still in love with his old princess.

  “I’m trying to imagine you as a queen,” Tedros mused, as if he’d suddenly remembered she was there. “You’d probably have your own wing with twenty servants drawing you hot baths of goat’s milk, massaging your feet every hour with fish eggs and pumpkin puree, and picking every last cucumber in the kingdom.”

  Sophie stared at him, aghast.

  “Made Agatha tell me about your beauty routines,” he quipped. “Helped us laugh after fights.”

  “Glad to see I’m the court jester!” Sophie lashed, tears rising. “Is that what you think of me? A slave to beauty, an empty ball gown, a bubbleheaded sidekick who isn’t worth a second thought?”

  “Sophie, you’re wearing a short skirt on a winter hike!”

  “Because you haven’t seen me as a girl in a very long time and I want you to remember you loved that girl once!”

  It came out before Sophie could stop it and she saw Tedros freeze on the path.

  “You promised to give me a chance,” Sophie breathed, dabbing eyes with her bearskin coat. “Even if you still love Agatha. You promised you’d give me a chance.”

  Tedros lifted Sophie’s chin, his blue gaze honest and unblinking.

  “I am giving you a chance, Sophie. I’m here with you, aren’t I? I haven’t mentioned Agatha once on our entire trip. You’re the one who keeps bringing her up. But instead of worrying about her or worrying about what I see on your outside, maybe you should be trying to show me your inside.” His tone was serious and mature. “So tell me, Sophie of Woods Beyond. What would you do for my kingdom as queen?”

  He strode ahead on the path, between ripples of white-hot glow.

  Sophie pursued him, pumping with hope. In the trail light, she could see the slashed ink on her skin beneath the gold ring. This was the moment she’d been waiting for since she’d lost Tedros to Agatha two years ago. The moment to show her prince a love so deep, it had carved his name into her. And if she could only find a way to make him feel that love as deeply as she felt it . . . then maybe, just maybe, words could change a prince’s heart after all.

  “At first, I thought all a queen does is choose china and throw cotillions and kiss babies at parades,” Sophie began. “But when I was with Rafal, I saw the way the other students looked at me. I wasn’t the old Sophie anymore, amusing and frivolous—I was the new Sophie, a girl who’d made something of myself. That’s what made them resent me, I suppose . . . they didn’t realize someone so young could be so extraordinary. It wasn’t as if I was born special or enchanted like them. All I ever had was a pretty face and a hunger to have a big life. And yet, I spent so much time fretting about the scale of that life that I forgot to ask what it should mean. That’s why I couldn’t commit to Rafal in the end. He might offer me immortality, infinite power, eternal love . . . but it was Evil’s love. And no matter how Evil he thinks I am, I still want to be Good, Tedros. Even if I have to war against my own soul until the day I die.”

  Tedros’ eyes moved to her.

  “There are two queens,” she said, her voice stronger now. “There’s the queen who doubts her crown. Choose her and you’ll forever distrust each other, sparring and bickering, because in her heart of hearts, she doesn’t want a queen’s life. Your father chose that queen and suffered until the end. Now you can go back to where his story went wrong and fix it. You can choose a queen who wants to be your queen. A queen who will fight for her people the way she fights to be with her king. The queen I couldn’t be for Rafal, because I’m meant to be that queen for you.”

  Tedros stopped, gazing at her so intensely it was as if he was seeing her for the first time.

  Heart throbbing, Sophie held his eyes, the mist of their breaths coalescing.

  “If they see a king and queen doubting each other, they’ll lose faith in you,” she said. “But choose a new type of
queen and they’ll see how a king should be treated: with unconditional love, respect, and loyalty. No one will give you those things more than me, because unlike Agatha, I never doubted you.”

  “Sophie . . . ,” he whispered, touching her waist.

  Her body electrified, blood rushing to her head.

  “Don’t you see? I was your queen from the first moment we met,” she said, leaning in. “The old story between us was right, Tedros. All we have to do is make it new.” She closed her eyes, her lips reaching for—

  “Sophie.”

  Sophie’s eyes shot open and saw Tedros, milk white, staring past her.

  Two flesh-flaking, stitched-up zombies converged towards the path from opposite sides of the dark Woods. One was a stumpy, copper-nosed man with a bushy gray beard, a belly bulging from his half-sized shirt, and a black pirate hat on his bald head. The other was dark and sleek, with an even bigger hat over his swell of black curls.

  It was only when he stepped onto the lit path that Sophie saw his big steel hook.

  “Here we are looking for Peter Pan and we find Evil’s queen instead,” sneered Captain Hook. “Only I hear you’ve deserted your post, dear queen. Tell her, Smee, what we do to deserters on my ship.”

  “Stick their head on the mast ’til the birds done their way with it,” Smee giggled, drawing a slim dagger from his breeches.

  “And yet, despite your desertion, I’m afraid the School Master doesn’t want you returned to him at all,” said Hook, eyeing Sophie carefully. “He insists his queen is free to do as she chooses.”

  Sophie paled with surprise.

  Hook turned to Tedros. “Said nothing about the boy, though.”

  The two pirates stalked towards the prince.

  Tedros drew Excalibur with one hand and grabbed Sophie with the other. “Stay close to me.”

  Sophie gulped, watching the two men slinking towards them, blades shining in the path light.

  Once upon a time, Tedros had been in mortal danger during a Trial as she stood by, too scared to fight. That was the exact moment her story had gone wrong. The moment she’d lost her prince to Agatha. This is my chance, thought Sophie—to go back and fix her fairy tale, just like she was asking Tedros to fix his. Fight for her prince and she’d win her kiss at last.