The School for Good and Evil #2: A World without Princes (23 page)

And now they were here, quietly human, side by side, like so many times before.

Only everything had changed.

Sophie scoured Agatha's face, looking for the graveyard girl she had once known. But all she saw was a princess nose . . . snow-white skin . . . delicate lips that reached for a prince. . . .

A prince who hadn't kissed her.

Because of me.

Sophie sickened with shame. She'd stopped Agatha's wish from coming true. She'd broken her best friend's heart.

Sophie bit back tears. She'd tried so hard to be Good, but that moment of losing Agatha—that real moment—had made her Evil again. Now she'd ruined a happy ending, like the witch she once was.

And yet, just as guilt swallowed her, Sophie suddenly felt a glimmer of hope. . . .

I need more than a friend
, Agatha had said.

But what if she could make Agatha happy again? What if she showed Agatha she didn't need Tedros? That their friendship was greater than any Ever After with a prince?

What if I teach Agatha what she once taught me?

Then keeping Agatha from Tedros would be worth it, Sophie thought, hope deepening. Everything she'd done last night would be worth it. Because Agatha would wish for The End with her, and mean it.

If I can just get Agatha back.

Agatha opened her eyes. She saw Sophie staring and visibly recoiled.

“How was last night?” Sophie asked, clearing her throat.

“Oh. L-l-last night?” Agatha turned away and started grabbing pieces of her uniform off the floor. “It was long—you know—Dot talks a lot—” She hesitated. “You didn't, um, watch us, did you?”

“Fell asleep.” Sophie watched Agatha's back. “But there was nothing to worry about, was there?”

Agatha's whole body went rigid.

“Eesh, smells like a furnace in here,” Sophie said lightly as she buttoned one of Beatrix's long cloaks over her uniform. “Kitchen fumes, no doubt. For all we know, Evergirls eat
bacon
now—”

“Sophie?”

“Mmm?”

“I have to tell you something.”

Sophie slowly raised her eyes.

Bloodcurdling screeches exploded in the hall, sending both girls cowering. Agatha whirled to the door and yanked it open—thick smoke flooded into the room as shadows of fleeing girls and butterflies ripped past, neon-haired nymphs floating behind them, shrieking alarm like banshees.

“What's happening!” Sophie gasped, grabbing Mona's arm.

“The princes! They broke the shield!”

Sophie and Agatha spun to each other, stunned.

Pollux's voice blared from a distant bullhorn—“All girls to the gallery! Use the breezeways, not the foyer! I repeat—do
not
use the foyer!”

Agatha and Sophie sprinted after Mona towards the breezeway from Honor to Valor, choking on acrid smoke.

“Where is it coming from?” Sophie wheezed, waving it away. The blue breezeway in front of her was clogged with bodies, butterflies swarming above them.

“Come on!” Agatha said, dragging her back towards the stairs. “We'll get there through the foyer—”

“But Pollux said not to use it!”

“Since when do we listen to
Pollux
?”

As they staggered through smoke down the Honor stairs, Agatha caught a glimpse of Halfway Bay through the glass walls. In the far distance, filthy, armed princes flooded through a hole in the shield over the Woods gates and onto the shores of the School for Boys. Agatha froze, dread rising. After last night, the timing couldn't be coincidental. Sophie bumped her from behind and Agatha struggled blindly down the last flight into the foyer—

All the smoke was seeping into the towers from here. The domed sunroof had been shot through and shattered, each of the G-I-R-L walls impaled with hundreds of fire-tipped arrows. Nymphs floated in a circle around the four tower staircases, shooting water spells to extinguish the small fires, while a scattering of dead butterflies smoldered on the ground, caught in the crossfire.

“Doesn't make sense,” Sophie said, gripping the glass railing. “Why would they shoot the foy—”

But as the fires cleared, the girls saw that each of the dripping-wet arrows had been speared to something: paper scrolls that had been taken away, leaving parchment scraps under the arrow tips.

“Sophie, look.”

Sophie followed Agatha's eyes to a shadowed patch of floor behind the stairs. There was a fallen scroll, thoroughly singed, but still intact. As the nymphs swept up the ashes and pulled out arrows around the foyer, Agatha quickly hopped over the banister and grabbed it. The scroll was sealed with a wax snake, the color of blood. Sophie landed beside her and looked over her shoulder as Agatha unrolled the scroll's scorched edges, the two girls hidden behind the stairs.

Sophie clutched the page so tightly her knuckles blued.

“Agatha?” she breathed, looking up. “What were you going to tell me?”

But Agatha was still staring at the scroll.

The dark cast in her eyes returned. The blush faded from her cheeks. The graveyard girl was back, a wish forgotten. She looked up at Sophie, sad and empty.

“I should have listened to you,” she said, voice cracking.

Sophie paused carefully. “You went to him?”

Agatha smeared away tears, unable to look at her.

“And he attacked you, didn't he,” Sophie said.

Agatha cried harder. “How'd you kn-kn-kn—”

“I warned you,” Sophie whispered. “I warned you what boys do.”

Agatha collapsed into her arms, sobbing. “I'm sorry . . . I'm so sorry. . . .”

Sophie hugged her tight, shoving away her guilt.

It wasn't Evil stopping their kiss last night. No, it was all for Good.

Her friend had come back to her.

From the School Master's window, Tedros watched Aric's red-hooded henchmen police the mob of princes at the rip in the bubbly, purple-tinged shield, letting in only the biggest or best armed. Standing beside him, Aric clenched his jaw.

“With all due respect, master, this Trial is a coward's game,” he snapped. “With our numbers, we should storm their castle—”

“Not after last night. Those girls are far too cunning for us to fight on their turf,” said Tedros. “Besides, the girls would have their teachers fighting with them. A Trial puts us on even ground.”

“Even ground!” Aric snarled. “I broke the princes through the shield because you assured me a
war
—”

“This is about saving our school from two girls intent on destroying it. Not cheap, villainous carnage!”

“When our teachers return, they will punish you for all you've done,” Aric spat—

Tedros slammed him against the windowsill, Aric's head dangling over it. “Remember your place, you savage. I let you into this school. And I can show you out.”

Aric stared at him, eyes wide.

Tedros pulled him up and looked away. In silence, the two boys watched more feral princes climb through the hole in the broken shield.

“You must be quite the magician to crack it,” said Tedros finally. “Lady Lesso cast that shield herself.”

Aric didn't reply.

“Aric, I want only the best fighting with you and me,” Tedros said, turning to him. “Whoever wins can have my treasure, as promised.”

Aric gave him a simpering smile. “As you wish, master.”

A shadow moved on the wall and Aric swiveled to see Tristan hovering near the chained Storian. Aric bared jagged teeth like a dog and Tristan cowered.

“Oh leave him alone,” Tedros sighed. “I need his help on guard. Especially after last night.”

His eyes drifted across the bay to the girls' school, glittering like a sapphire city. He could see the last of the smoke plumes dissipating from its four towers. The Trial announcements had been delivered.

“She was lying about Sophie being there the whole time?” Tedros asked.

“There is doubt in your voice, master.”

“It's just the way she looked at me . . . touched me . . . like she meant it . . .”

“She attacked
you
. And her witch was there to finish the job,” growled Aric. “Why do you think she freed the pen? Your death would seal their story and spread its lesson far and wide. A world without princes. A world with girls as masters—and boys as slaves. The End.” The captain glared at Tedros. “If I hadn't arrived to save you . . .”

Tedros looked down. “I am aware.”

“It is a difficult thing to admit. A son reliving the mistakes of his father. Both your loves . . . lost to another.”

Tedros slowly raised his head.

“What would he have done?” Aric said, violet eyes searching him.

Tedros turned away, rage ripping through his chest once more. He looked down at the barbarous princes marching into his castle.

“She attacked
me
,” he whispered, as if finally believing the words were true.

“He attacked
you
?” Hester said to Agatha, sitting with Anadil, Dot, and the rest of the girls on the gallery floor, waiting for the Dean and teachers to arrive.

“Convinced I'd brought Sophie to kill him,” Agatha said sourly. “Tried some strange spell—swear it looked pink, but it came too fast to see. Barely missed me before his henchmen came.”

“Henchmen?” Dot gawked.
“Tedros?”

“And a
pink
spell?” Anadil said, her three rats looking just as befuddled. “Let's hope you didn't see it right. If a boy's using a pink curse, must be serious black magic. Lucky it missed.”

Rumors of the Trial had spread fast, with girls heatedly debating who would be picked to compete against the boys. With Sophie in the bathroom washing ash off her face (“Death threat or no death threat, I'm not getting blackheads”), Agatha took the chance to tell the witches everything that happened since nightfall.

“He's the Evil one, not Sophie,” Agatha said, thinking of her prince's searing eyes, his hunt for vengeance. “That dream was warning me.”

“So Sophie isn't turning?” Hester asked, dumbfounded.

Agatha shook her head.

“And there's no wart?” said Anadil.

Agatha looked down, ashamed.

“But you swore you saw one!” Hester hissed. “And what about the Beast? What about the cat—”

“For the last time, none of that was me!” Sophie scowled, plopping down between them. “And this is the first time I'm hearing of a wart. Our heads on the chopping block over a . . .
wart
?”

The girls gaped at her—except Agatha, who couldn't meet her eyes.

“We almost lost each other last night, Aggie,” Sophie said, softening. “But you have to believe me. As long as we're friends, I'm
happy
. As long as we're friends, there
is
no witch.”

“Should have stolen the Storian when I had a chance,” Agatha mumbled angrily, still staring at her clumps. “No doubt I'd mean my wish now. You and I'd be long gone.”

Sophie blushed with surprise.

“Look, this doesn't make sense,” Hester snapped. “We saw that pigeon
dead—
”

“I don't care what ooga booga you saw,” Sophie shot back. “Someone obviously wanted you to think I was Evil. Someone who wants Agatha against me.”

“But
who
?” Agatha asked. “The Dean needs us to be friends to fight the boys—”

“Maybe it was Lesso or Dovey who conjured her symptoms,” Dot said, turning an exhibit plaque to avocado. “They always thought Agatha should be with Tedros.”

“Maybe it was Anemone or Sheeks,” Anadil said, tying her rats' tails together. “They want back to Good and Evil even more than us.”

“Or maybe it was someone who wants me gone,” Sophie said, eyes veering to Hester. “Someone who wants to be Class
Captain
.”

Hester answered with a violent fart, refusing to dignify the charge with words.

“Look, it doesn't matter who it was. We're all on the same side now. Against
Tedros
,” Agatha said, taking Sophie's hand. “And we're not going into his Trial.”

Sophie warmed inside. It'd been so long since they felt like friends. “Aggie's right,” she said. “We have to stop the Trial from happening.”

“We?”
Hester leaned against a glass case. “I think a Trial against boys sounds delicious.”

“About time we had a little bloodshed,” said Anadil, entangled rats yipping agreement.

“I'd quite like a slave,” Dot chimed.

“This isn't a game, you idiots! If we lose, Agatha and I
die
!” Sophie barked. “The Dean has to refuse—”

Butterflies skimmed under the gallery door, which swung open as the Dean arrived, groomed and coiffed as ever, followed by disheveled, grim-looking teachers. Professor Dovey and Lady Lesso looked grimmest of all.

“As you've heard, the boys demand a Trial,” the Dean proclaimed, the torches magically spotlighting her ravishing face. “And though the teachers see otherwise, I see no reason to deny their terms.”