Tedros turned with an arched brow. “But seriously, do I need to carry you?”
Sophie’s heart fluttered and she hurried forward, trying to stiffen her gait to a boy’s. “Odd that we haven’t faced any of the teacher’s traps—”
“Pfft, beating monsters is easy, Filip. The devil you know is the one to be scared of.”
Sophie stopped, watching Tedros caressed by the sparkling, long-branched willows, as if saluting a knight off to war.
The prince sensed the silence and turned. “What now?”
“Have you ever killed someone, Tedros?”
“What?”
Sophie glared at him, ten feet away. “Have you ever killed someone?”
Tedros stiffened, looking at his elfish, clear-faced friend. “I’ve killed a gargoyle,” he puffed.
“That’s defense, Tedros. This is revenge,” Sophie said coldly. “This is murder.” Her chiseled face darkened with pain. “No matter how Good you try to be after, you’ll never escape it. It will haunt your dreams and make you afraid of yourself. It will follow you like an ugly black shadow, telling you you’ll always be Evil, until it just becomes . . . part of you.”
Tedros bristled, shifting in his boots. “Right. How would you know? Filip of Mount Honora who can’t even fight a stymph.”
Sophie’s eyes cut into his. “Because I’ve killed worse than you’ll ever know.”
Tedros stared at his friend, stunned.
Moonlight seeped through the ice-blue trees, spotlighting the two boys, their breath misting towards each other.
Tedros cocked his head, seeing Filip in the glow. “That’s odd. Your face looks different.”
“Huh?”
“It looks . . . smoother,” Tedros said curiously, stepping towards his friend. “Like you’ve shaved . . .”
Sophie gasped. The spell! She’d grown so used to being a boy she’d forgotten the spell! She’d be a girl any second! She had to get away from him!
“Just the light,” she prattled, rushing past the prince. “Let’s go, before a troll eats us—”
A soft groan echoed above their heads, and Tedros stopped short. “What was that?”
“I don’t hear any—”
But it came again, a rasping wheeze like a punctured balloon.
The two boys slowly looked up into the weeping willow.
“Who’s there?” Tedros called.
Between the spindly branches and shimmery blue leaves, they made out the edges of something hiding high in the tree. Tedros squinted harder, his eyes adjusting to the dark, until he saw a shadow . . . a human shadow . . .
. . . in a sapphire-blue cloak.
“A girl,” he sneered.
Fireworks whipcracked behind them, and the boys spun to see white light lash across the sky, as two more girls’ names erased off the scoreboard.
DOT.
ANADIL.
Sophie exhaled with relief—the two witches had survived long enough to drop their flags.
But then she saw Tedros’ pupils locked on the tree, glimmering darkly. Because if those two girls had surrendered, then chances were that the girl trapped up in that tree right now was . . .
“I’ll get her!” Sophie shrieked, leaping onto the tree—
But Tedros was faster, prowling past his friend like a panther towards the hidden girl. Sophie scrambled up branches behind him, knowing she had to get to Agatha first. She lunged through sharp, tangled branches and yanked Tedros’ cloak collar. The prince ricocheted backwards, watching his friend pass him.
“What are you doing!” Tedros hissed —
Sophie levied every ounce of power in her boy body to swing up the tree towards the hidden girl. Just as she got close, Tedros tackled her from behind—
“She’s mine, Filip,” he growled, shunting his friend aside. Panicked, Sophie shoved her boot in his backside, and Tedros faceplanted on a lower branch.
As Filip fumbled past him, Tedros swung up and grappled him, Filip gave him a hard slap, and the two boys wrestled forward along dense branches, biting and kicking each other like animals until Tedros flung Filip back just as they got to the cornered girl. Heaving breath, cheeks scarlet, the prince gnashed his teeth, raised his sword over his prey, and drew back her hood with a snarl—
Then he slowly lowered his sword.
“Who are you?”
Sophie came up beside him and looked at a red-haired girl ensconced in blue leaves, moaning softly, eyes barely open, her long-nosed, freckled face deathly pale.
“Yara?”
“You know her?” Tedros said, agog.
“Heard someone call her name in the Clearing before she went in,” Sophie lied hastily, remembering none of the boys had seen Yara before.
“Well, find her white flag and drop it,” Tedros growled. “We need to be looking for Sophie and Agath—”
His voice petered out as he noticed a splotch of dried blood on Yara’s chin. Slowly Tedros peeled back her cloak to reveal a rust-flecked jagged gash deep across her neck, already bled out.
“Aric,” Tedros breathed, watching Yara whirring and wheezing, her windpipe cut. “That’s his knife mark.”
Sophie looked at him, the two boys’ faces filled with the same helpless fear. Yara was about to die.
Sophie cradled Yara’s head while Tedros frantically ransacked her pockets, finding nothing. “We need to send you back to your teachers, Yara,” he pressured. “Where’s your white flag?”
Sophie shook her head, bereft. “She doesn’t speak.”
“Yara, we need to help you!” Tedros said manically, grabbing her shoulders—
“I told you, Tedros—”
“YARA!” Tedros screamed.
Yara stirred in his arms, her eyes still closed. “I’m . . . not . . . Yara,” she whispered.
Sophie and Tedros recoiled in surprise.
Slowly Yara’s blue eyes struggled to open, looking into Tedros’. She smiled as if looking at her best friend. “I—I—I . . . never was.”
The prince let go of her, for Yara’s face had started to change. Her cheeks roughened to ginger stubble, her jaw chiseling and squaring, her long, beakish nose refining, her wavy red hair shrinking back into her skull until it was cropped short. Sophie went pale, watching a spell undone that she knew so well. Tedros went paler, looking back at a boy he knew even better.
“T-T-Tristan?” Tedros spluttered, stunned. “But that’s impossible—how can—how could—”
“I’m . . . sorry . . . ,” Tristan gasped, back in his boy skin. “Their school . . . was so . . . beautiful. And the boys—the boys were so mean . . .”
“Tristan, we need your flag,” Sophie strained—
“She let me stay in the girls’ school—” Tristan said, shivering. “She said I could stay as long as . . . as long as I—”
“Who let you stay?” Tedros asked, still in a fog.
“The Dean . . . as long as I hid it for her . . . that’s why I moved it from under the t-t-table . . .”
“Shhhh,” Sophie said, touching his cheek. “Just tell me where your flag is.”
Tristan’s eyes found hers and suddenly twinkled with recognition. He looked deeper into her face and smiled weakly. “It’s you.”
Sophie’s heart imploded.
Tedros peered at Tristan, puzzled. “But Filip came to our school after you left. How would you—”
“He’s delirious,” Sophie blurted quickly, then clutched Tristan harder, flashing him the F on her collar. “I’m Filip, Tristan. Filip of Mount Honora. And I need your flag—please—”
“The Storian,” Tristan said, still smiling at her. “I . . . I hid it in your storybook . . . like she told me to . . . she knew you’d never look there—”
“What’s he talking about?” Tedros asked nervously.
“I have no idea,” Sophie lied, heart thundering.
“It’s in . . . in your book . . . ,” Tristan choked. “She’s . . . she’s coming for it . . . she . . . she needs it for your end-d-d .
. .”
But there was no more breath for Tristan to give. The red-haired boy convulsed, then stilled, his heart finally finished, and his eyes slowly closed once more.
Inch by inch, he started to glow like a halo, burning hotter, hotter, to the color of molten gold. In a flash, his body splintered to light and rocketed into the sky, drawing out Yara’s face in a constellation of orange-gold stars, before the lights faded and fell over the Forest like raining fire. Then YARA’s name went dark on the girls’ scoreboard, and Tristan was gone.
Tedros shoved past Filip and stumbled down the tree. He leapt into shadowed blue grass behind it, and doubled over, gagging. “How could Aric kill her! How could Aric kill a girl!” he cried. “And it wasn’t a girl—it was T-T-T-Tristan! A boy like any of us—but no one talked to him, no one was nice to him—no wonder he wanted to be in their school—” Tedros couldn’t breathe, collapsing to his knees. “He just wanted to be happy!”
Sophie put her hand on his back.
“He must have been so scared, Filip,” Tedros whispered. “Alone in that tree . . . dying . . .” He buried his face in his hands. “I can’t watch anyone else die. Please. Not like that.” He sniffled and smeared at his eyes. “You’re right. I can’t—I can’t hurt anyone—”
Sophie knelt before him. “You don’t have to.”
“Those girls will kill me if I don’t kill them first!”
“Not if you promise me,” Sophie soothed. “Promise me you’ll let them live.”
Tedros looked up at her, cheeks wet. He shook his head as if he was dreaming. “Every second you look different, Filip. Softer, gentler . . .” He turned away, flushing. “Why do I keep wishing you were a princess? Why do I keep seeing one in your face?”
“Promise me you’ll let Sophie and Agatha go home,” Sophie begged, voice tightening. “A prince’s promise.”
“On one condition,” Tedros said, their eyes locking. “That you won’t go back to your kingdom. That you’ll stay here with me.”
Sophie burnt red, gawking at him. “W-w-w-what?”
Tedros gripped her shoulders. “You keep me Good, Filip. Please. I can’t end up like Aric, angry and Evil. You’re the only thing that keeps me Good.”
Sophie’s whole body went to butter, staring at the only boy she’d ever loved, asking her to stay with him forever.
As a boy.
Slowly Sophie felt herself pull away from him.
“Listen to me, Tedros,” she said. “Sophie needs to go home alive with Agatha. That’s the only way to end this. That’s the only way to stop anyone else from dying—”
“And I need my best friend,” said Tedros, holding her tighter. “You said it yourself, Filip. You don’t want to end alone like your mother.” His blue eyes weakened. “And I don’t want to end alone like my father.”
“I have someone waiting, Tedros,” Sophie rasped. “Someone who knows the real me. Someone I wouldn’t trade for any boy in the world—”
“I wish you were a girl,” Tedros said, hand moving down her back. “That’s why I keep seeing one in your face.”
“Promise me you’ll let them go,” Sophie pressed, heart racing—
“You’re all I have left, Filip,” Tedros pleaded. “Don’t leave me alone. Please.”
“Just promise me—” gasped Sophie—
“Even stranger,” Tedros breathed, lost in a daze. “Now you sound like a girl too.”
Sophie held out her hand to stop him, but Tedros caught it. Sophie looked up into his wide, confused eyes as he leaned in, touching his lips to hers. . . .
“Oh my God,” a voice cried behind them.
The boys spun in shock.
It was Agatha.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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24
Villains Unmasked
Tedros broke from Filip and jumped back, the prince’s face wildly red. “No no no no—” he stammered, whirling to Agatha. “It was an accident—”
* * *
Art to come
* * *
But Agatha had her finger raised, glowing bright gold at the elfish, fluffy-haired boy beside him.
“Agatha, listen to me,” Filip begged, retreating against a blue willow—
“You snake,” Agatha hissed, advancing on him. “You lying snake.”
Tedros instinctively shielded Filip, pointing his own glowing finger at Agatha. “Leave Filip alone, Agatha. Your fight is with me.”
But Agatha still wasn’t looking at him. She was glaring daggers at Filip, her finger burning brighter. “You tried to kiss him! You tried to stay here with him and send me home!”
“It’s not true!” Filip cried—
Tedros spun to his square-jawed friend. “You know each other?”
“You were there in the School Master’s tower that night. You attacked us. You set him against me!” Agatha spewed at Filip.
“And you promised me you wouldn’t see him!” Filip fired, pitch wavering. “I couldn’t lose you, Agatha! Not without trying to win you back!”
“So you tried to get us home on a lie?” Agatha lashed.
“Why are my princess and best friend talking?” gaped Tedros, delirious—
“I had to show you your wish was wrong,” Filip assailed Agatha, fighting tears. “That a best friend means more than a boy.”
Agatha shook her head angrily, thinking of the dreams she’d cursed, the heart she’d maligned, trying to tell her the truth about her friend all along. “Can’t you see?” she said, voice cold. “The more you try to stop us, the more my wish for him is true.”
Filip fell back a step. He stared at Agatha, cut to the core.
“I really don’t understand what’s happening,” Tedros croaked, eyes wide.
“You’d choose him over me?” Filip rasped to Agatha, his dimpled chin quivering. “After I risked my life to save us?”
“Is that what kissing him was?” Agatha mocked. “An attempt to save us?”
“He kissed me!” Filip screamed—
“H-h-hold on—it was a bad moment—” the prince fumbled. “We’re friends—like you and S-S-Sophie—”
“Some friend,” said Agatha, glowering at Filip.
“You have to believe me, Aggie,” Filip stressed. “I chose you, even if Tedros could want me, even if I could be his forever—”
“It was so dark—and his face looked different—” Tedros moaned, slumping onto a rock. “Any boy would make the same mistake—”
“You said you wanted to forget this place,” defended Filip. “You said you wanted our happy ending back!”
“Happy! Because of you, a boy is dead!” Agatha yelled. “Because of you, we could both still die!”
“I just wanted us to go back to the way we were. Before we ever came here. Before we ever met a prince!” Filip implored. “I just wanted us back to real friends—”
“Real friends let each other grow up,” Agatha seethed, neck searing red. “Real friends don’t hold each other back from love. Real friends don’t lie.”
Tedros launched off his rock. “That’s it!” he spat at Agatha. “I don’t care how you two know each other, whether you’re long-lost cousins, secret pen pals, or hiking buddies in Mount Honora, but Filip isn’t your concern anymore, all right?” he snarled. “So go find your treasured Sophie before I change my mind about killing you.”
Agatha goggled at him before spurting a laugh.
“What’s so funny!” Tedros barked.
“You really don’t see it, do you?” Agatha marveled. “You still think he’s your friend.”
“My best friend,” retorted the prince. “And for the first time, I finally understand why you’d choose Sophie instead of me. Because Filip knows me. He backs me up and fights for me in a way no girl ever could. I always thought love was about a girl—but a friend like Filip is deeper than love. Because I’d choose as Good
a friend as him over you again and again and again.”
“Let me tell you about Filip,” said Agatha witheringly. “Filip’s about as Good a friend as Lancelot was to your father.”
Tedros bared teeth and drew his sword. “What did you say?”
Agatha searched his face, softening. “Never could tell between Good and Evil, could you?”
Tedros’ whole body stiffened, dread slithering through him. He turned to see Filip backing past Agatha, out of shadowed grass and against the shimmering willow tree. Now, in the frosty, spangling light, Tedros could finally see his best friend’s face, terrified, trembling. . . .
Only it was no longer a face he knew.
Each new second, every pore of Filip’s features shape-shifted with the tiniest changes, like a sand sculpture burnishing, grain by grain. Filip’s sloped nose softened and rounded to a button, his eyelashes thickened and grew out luxuriously, his elfish ears shrank and pinned back, his eyebrows arched like delicate brushstrokes. Changes spread down his body, faster and faster, a spell unraveling at the seams. Filip’s thick, veiny muscles sleeked to creamy skin, his floppy hair flowed out in cascading blond ringlets, his hulking legs thinned and smoothed, his hips regained their curves . . . until there, in icy moonlight, a beautiful blond girl cowered and shook in a boy’s black-and-red cloak, gaping plaintively like a scared cat.
Tedros collapsed against a tree. “Why does everyone lie to me?” he gasped softly. “Why is everything always a lie?”
“Not everything,” Agatha said quietly.
Sophie backed up from Tedros, trying to smile.
“Don’t kill m-m-me, Tedros,” she stuttered. “See? Still Filip, still your friend . . . just different . . .”
She saw Tedros staring at her, blue eyes glazed and frozen over, as if reliving every moment of the scene that just happened, parsing every word. Little by little, a golden glow dawned over him, like a warmth awakened inside, softening the darkness and edges.
Sophie slouched with relief—
But then she saw Tedros wasn’t looking at her at all.
He was looking at his ghostly, dark-haired princess, standing beneath a sparkling willow.
“Y-y-you . . . you loved me the whole time?” he said softly.