“You have come seeking knowledge or wisdom?” she asked.
“Actually, just my class schedule.”
When Raven told her advisor what had happened in the Castleteria, Baba Yaga cackled. Where her mother’s cackle was a thing of frightening beauty, her advisor’s cackle invoked only fright.
“Some fairy-godmother-in-training was good and terrified, was she? Realized she was facing the future Evil Queen herself? Ha! Good work, Raven. If you scare them, you’re doing it right.”
Raven mumbled something.
“Eh? What was that? Speak up! Don’t mumble like a caterpillar.”
“I said, I don’t want to scare them.”
Baba Yaga picked up a blue spray bottle and squirted Raven in the face with water, making Raven blink. “This is how I train my cats not to jump up on my spell table. They learn after a while. Maybe you will, too.”
Baba Yaga considered Raven, then sprayed her a couple more times for good measure.
“Blech! You got it up my nose!” said Raven.
“You are a dark sorceress. Don’t be a wet cat.” Baba Yaga snapped her fingers, lifted her hand, and pulled a sheet of paper as if out of the air above. She handed it to Raven.
Her class schedule! Raven read it over with increasing horror: General Villainy, Home Evilnomics, Poison Fruit Theory, History of Evil Spells, Kingdom Mismanagement…
“This is a major fairy-fail,” said Raven.
“It all looks appropriate to me,” said the dark sorceress advisor.
“I was hoping for at least a Muse-ic Class. Don’t I have any choice—”
Raven stopped. The cottage got quiet, as if it had stopped breathing. The very air seemed to vibrate with that word: choice.
Baba Yaga studied Raven thoughtfully with those cold gray eyes. Then she sprayed her advisee in the face.
“Ack, stop. I’m sorry,” said Raven.
“You should be. Choice is a dangerous word. You cannot throw it around idly, not in Ever After. Why the sudden interest in choice?”
Raven was tempted to confide in Baba Yaga all her fears about Legacy Day, but she looked into that face, all the wrinkles pointing down with her frown, and was certain the old sorceress wouldn’t understand. So Raven just shook her head.
“Hmph. Headmaster Grimm won’t tolerate foolishness during your Legacy Year. Take the classes you’re assigned, and be grateful I don’t change you into a worm I feed to my newt.” Baba Yaga sniffed. Grime lined her wrinkles. “You may choose one class, and in the future, be more cautious when talking about choice.”
Raven smiled. “Muse-ic Class, please.”
Baba Yaga wrote with her pointy gray fingernail on Raven’s schedule and with a gust of wind opened the door and sent Raven and her schedule flying out.
Raven pursued her wind-chased schedule, grabbing it out of the air just before it flew over a wall. Through a window she could see Apple meeting with the advisor of the princesses, Wonderland’s White Queen. They were sitting in a real room on real chairs, drinking hot cocoa and apparently having a perfectly pleasant time. There was no sign of a spray bottle.
Raven picked up a stick and scraped at the mud and other stuff on her shoes. She could try to clean it with magic, but the magic might backfire and take her shoes off with the dirt, and perhaps her toenails for good measure.
She was on her way to her dorm to change when she passed Milton Grimm. Ever After High’s headmaster was tall, his dark gray hair and mustache beginning to streak with white. He wore a suit, a vest, a tie, and a heavy key ring at his belt that jangled when he walked.
“Raven Queen. Visiting your advisor, I presume?” He indicated the mud drying on Raven’s shoes and smiled.
“Yeah, her cottage ran into a pig field.”
“So you chased it down? That’s the spirit!”
Raven shrugged.
“Ms. Queen, would you step into my office for a moment?”
She followed him in. The office was as large as a throne room, and his chair was the throne itself, sitting on a dais behind a heavy oaken desk. Between the bookshelves lining the high walls hung the heads of long-dead mystical creatures. In a place of honor in the room’s center and locked inside a crystal box on a gilded pedestal waited the Storybook of Legends.
Raven shivered as she passed it. She sat on the smaller throne before his desk.
He glanced up as if making sure the door was shut before he spoke. “Did you have your yearly mirror chat with you-know-who?”
Raven nodded.
“And you told no one? It wouldn’t be good for morale. Everyone but you, me, your father, Gepetto, and Baba Yaga believes the Evil Queen is no more.”
“I’ve kept the secret for years. You can trust me.”
He tilted his head as if he wasn’t so sure. “And you didn’t touch the mirror?”
“Of course not.”
“It was a lot of work catching her and locking her away. I don’t fancy another go of it. Your mother is a fine example of what can go wrong when a character doesn’t follow her prescribed script.”
Raven didn’t answer. She’d heard this speech before.
“Ah, your class schedule. May I?” He held out his hand, and she gave him the paper. “Hmm… it all looks hexcellent, except for this Muse-ic Class. That’s really only for Happily-Ever-After princesses to help them develop their signature power ballads.”
“But… but I love music, and Baba Yaga said I could choose—”
Headmaster Grimm raised an eyebrow at the word, and Raven wished she could take it back. She could almost feel Baba Yaga’s cold water squirting up her nose.
“Ms. Queen, last year was your Freedom Year, when you had the opportunity to ‘choose’ your own classes. Now it’s time to grow up. In your Legacy Year, all students must focus on who they will become. You are destined to be the Evil Queen.”
“Yeah, about that. My mom wasn’t just Snow White’s Evil Queen like my grandma was, and great-grandma, and great-great-grandma, and great-great-great—”
“No, as I said, she overreached.”
“Yeah, after her part with Snow White, she went off script in a major way! So what’s my destiny? To do just the regular Evil Queen shtick? Or am I going to become like my mother and elbow my way into Sleeping Beauty and invade Wonderland and try to rule all Happily Ever Afters? Do I have to become the Greatest Evil the World Has Ever Known?”
He straightened. “Are you doubting me? Do you dare question me? I am Milton Grimm!”
Raven shrank in her chair.
The headmaster took a deep breath and put his slight smile back on. “Your story—and your very life—is far too important to risk on wild speculation.” He erased Muse-ic Class from her schedule with a flick of his fingertip and handed the paper back. “You must try to play your part. We all must, or our very existence is in danger.”
“Yeah…” Raven started folding her class schedule into the shape of a heart.
“Raven.” Headmaster Grimm smiled, but the smile didn’t seem to reach his eyes. “You have so much potential. Don’t waste it. Embrace your destiny.”
Raven nodded.
She left his office and continued down the hall, past the first-years’ lockers, hopping over the occasional toadstool. They grew at the base of the tree pillars but sometimes spread out farther, sprouting up between the floor tiles. Raven didn’t like how they squished underfoot.
She heard music and followed it to the Muse-ic Classroom. Sparrow Hood was using the empty room for his band’s practice session. They weren’t great, but hey, it was music. Sparrow, in a green felt cap just like the one his dad, Robin, had made famous, was rocking out as the lead. The Merry Men backed him up on guitars, bass, drums, and one enthusiastic cowbell.
The music faltered when they noticed Raven standing in the threshold.
Sparrow smacked his chest with his hand. “I’ve been shot through the heart, men! Never have I seen such smoldering beauty.”
In a moment he wa
s kneeling before her, holding both her hands. He smiled up at her with a roguish grin. Despite herself, Raven had to admit that he was cute. He leaned in with puckered lips to kiss her knuckles—
“What-ever-after,” said Raven, pulling her hands away. “I know you’re just trying to steal my rings, Sparrow.”
“Only for the poor—like me.” He cocked his hat to one side and winked before backflipping away from her to his microphone stand. He struck a pose with one fist on his hips, one foot propped up on the bass drum.
Raven sighed. Hanging out with Sparrow was not her ideal pastime. But his band was the best band at Ever After High. Well, okay, it was the only band at Ever After High.
“Hey, Merry Men,” said Raven. The Merry Men waved. The one holding the cowbell waved with the instrument in hand, ringing away.
“Let me guess… you’ve come to apply to be a groupie?” Sparrow said. “You’re in luck! We’re now accepting this year’s applications.”
“Actually, I was wondering if…” Raven kept her gaze on her muddy shoes. “You know, if you auditioned female vocalists for your group, to do backup or whatever…”
She dared to look up. Sparrow wore a frozen expression of surprise.
“What—you mean you?” he said. “Can you even sing?”
“Hex yeah. Give me a shot and I’ll—”
Sparrow laughed. “No, thanks.”
“You haven’t even heard me,” she said.
“I don’t have to. You’re not singing on my stage. Evil cramps our style.”
“I’m not evil!”
Sparrow backed away with his arms crossed in front of him, faking fear. “There she goes, men! Look out or she’ll turn you into toads!”
The Merry Men laughed.
“You’re already toads, so it’d be a waste of magic,” she said.
“Hey!” said Hopper Croakington, son of the Frog Prince, who happened to be passing by.
Raven rushed past him and ran. All she wanted to do was go hide in her room and tell Maddie everything. She burst open her dorm door.
“Welcome home, roomie!” said Apple.
Maddie’s side of the room had been transformed: redwood furniture, canopy, gilded chairs and wardrobe. Raven backed out and checked the names on the door: RAVEN QUEEN & MADELINE HATTER. She was in the right room.
“What’s—”
“We’re roommates now!” Apple said cheerily, folding her satin monogrammed underwear and putting them into her dresser. “I asked Headmaster Grimm if we could share a room, since we share a story.”
“Oh.” A year in one room with Apple. Was there no escape from the looming specter of her legacy?
“And look, I decorated your side for you!”
Raven’s ebony furniture all had evil-looking spikes now—her mirror, her headboard. Her chair had been transformed into a spiny throne.
“Now you’ll feel right at home.” Apple smiled, waiting to be thanked.
Raven turned and ran away.
RAVEN WAS AN ODD GIRL. APPLE HADN’T expected much for her efforts decorating Raven’s room—perhaps just a shout of joy, a sincere tear, or a hug and a homemade thank-you card. But instead Raven had been quiet since Apple moved in. Surly, even. Well. Apple would not let it get her down. The students of Ever After High depended on her to be dependably cheery. Especially at a party.
She finished getting ready by pinning a casual-wear tiara into her golden tresses and headed up to the Royal Common Room.
It was always elegant—marble floors, carved columns, sort of a fun-sized ballroom. But tonight it was simply enchanting. Briar had borrowed gold wire from Professor Rumpelstiltskin and crisscrossed it like streamers above their heads, providing perches for hundreds of live birds. Enchanted ivy was slowly growing, climbing up a wooden trellis in the center of the room. Beneath the trellis, Melody Piper was deejaying at the turntables, mixing an N-Chant single with some Lil Swain.
“Apple! You are totally fairest.” Briar Beauty flung her long brown hair over her shoulder and gave Apple cheek kisses. As always, Briar was dressed to party, tonight in a loose silk top, tight pink skirt, black nylons worked with an edgy briar pattern, and super-high heels. Briar had started the crownglasses trend that was taking over Ever After High, and other girls always took note of Briar’s outfits to stay current in the latest styles.
Briar thrust a crystal cup with a silver spoon into Apple’s hands. “Whipped air. Try it. Totally invisible and totally good.”
Apple dipped the spoon into the empty cup and touched it to her tongue. The nothingness tasted like chocolate-raspberry swirl.
“Mm, this is amazing. You are the queen of parties, Briar.”
“Yeah, well, you never know when you’re going to prick your finger on a spindle and sleep for a hundred years, so I’ve got to live it up while I can!”
Ashlynn Ella rushed through the doors.
“Welcome to my Book-to-School party!” said Briar.
“Am I late?” asked Ashlynn, looking down at her mint party dress as if expecting it to turn to rags. “Am I late? I hate being late.”
“You’re fine. You’re on time—don’t lose a glass slipper.”
“Oh good,” Ashlynn said, quickly cleaning dirt from under her fingernails. “I went into the forest to help a mother fox relocate her nest and completely lost track of time.”
“No sweat, Ash. Hey, could you be a dear?” Briar pointed up at the hundreds of silent songbirds. “I thought they’d sound spellbinding on the bass line.”
“I tried earlier,” said Apple. “But when I sing to them, they just get frantic and flap around trying to save me from something.”
Ashlynn spoke to the birds. They tweeted questions at her in bird language, she answered in her own words, and soon the birds were chirping the bass line of Melody Piper’s music. It’s a universal truth that birds love princesses, but only Cinderella’s daughter understood their language.
More students arrived, children of famous princes and princesses, huntsmen, wooden puppets, and witches. When their parents, the Class of Classics, had ruled Ever After High, they had kept the royals separate from the commoners. But things had gotten more lax in their children’s generation. Even though she was the royalest of the royals, Apple approved of the elite mixing with the commoners. After all, Headmaster Grimm often said, “You are all destined for greatness. There is no such thing as short stories or tall tales.”
This was Briar’s party, but Apple and the other princesses stood beside her as the welcoming committee: Ashlynn Ella, Holly O’Hair, Duchess Swan, Darling Charming, and Lizzie Hearts. Ever After High had more princesses than a theme park. Blondie Lockes, one of Apple’s and Briar’s best friends forever after, also joined them. She claimed that her mother, Goldilocks, was a queen somewhere. Apple wasn’t so sure, but Blondie was a sweetheart regardless, and—oh, those golden curls!
“Apple!” said Blondie. “I love that skirt. Not too short, not too long. Just right.”
“Thanks, Blondie. Your boots are—wait, is that bear fur?”
“Faux bear fur,” said Blondie, stroking the cuffs of her boots.
“Here comes Madeline Hatter,” Duchess whispered, “madder than a hatter.”
“How can you say she’s mad?” Ashlynn asked. “She’s the happiest person I’ve ever met.”
“Not angry-mad,” said Duchess. “She’s crazy-mad.”
“Maddie!” Briar called out. “I’m so glad you could—whoa, what are you wearing?”
“A dress,” Maddie said simply.
She was, in fact, wearing a dress. But the neck of the dress fit tight around her knees, and the wide, stiff tulle skirt shot up around her neck. She had put it on upside down.
“Exactly, I put it on upside down,” said Maddie.
That’s what I just said.
“I know, I was just repeating what you said because no one can hear you besides me,” said Maddie.
“Who are you talking to?” Briar asked slowly.
/> “The Narrator. Anyway, it was an accident, the whole me-putting-on-my-dress-upside-down thingy, because one can’t see when one is dressing in a cheese closet. Obviously. But it somehow fit just right!”
Blondie smiled.
“I don’t know how, but it looks crazy-amazing upside down,” said Briar. “Like, seriously, I’m thinking I have to try that.”
“I’m pretty sure none of my dresses would fit me upside down,” said Apple.
“Hm,” said Maddie. “Maybe you need to be upside down and the dress should be right-side up.”
“Okay,” Apple said without blinking.
“I’ve never been in the Royal Common Room!” said Maddie, gazing at the cozy ballroom. “The Commoner Common Room looks like the inside of a shoemaker’s shop.”
“So, you hexted me that you were bringing a roasted pig for the refreshment table?” Briar said, looking at Maddie’s empty hands. Well, her hands weren’t exactly empty. She’d fitted her hands with her shoes (and her feet with her gloves), but they were empty of any food items.
“Silly, I never said roasted,” said Maddie. She removed her shoes, took off her large, striped hat, and stuck in her hands up to the elbows, digging around. There was a grunt. It hadn’t come from Maddie. “Aha!”
Out of the hat sprang a pig. It began snuffling the floor.
“He’s a darling, isn’t he? And probably housebroken, since he appears to be hat-broken. I’m going to call him Snoof Piddle-dee-do.”
Snoof Piddle-dee-do went around sniffing people’s shoes as if hunting for treats. When he smelled the girl in the corner wearing a red cloak and hood, the pig squealed in terror and bolted away. The red-hooded girl looked around with wide eyes, as if checking to see if anyone had noticed.
“You know, the first time I met Cerise Hood last year she was wearing her cloak and hood, and I assumed she was just cold,” said Apple. “But I’ve never seen her take it off since.”
“Yeah, what’s her deal?” asked Duchess.
“Nobody knows,” Maddie said mysteriously. “Well, I bet the Narrator knows.”
Of course, but I’m not telling. At least not right now.
Maddie stuck out her bottom lip. “Spoilsport.”