“Follow me,” Bettina ordered Sophie. “You’ve already put us in the worst possible position. From here on out, everyone does as I say.”
“Bollocks. Not leaving our fate up to a journalist,” said Robin. “I’m from Sherwood. Know my way around a tree. Keep close, kids.” He bounded forward.
Bettina, meanwhile, hadn’t moved.
Willam and Bogden blinked at Sophie, waiting for her to choose a leader.
Sophie followed Robin.
Deeper she probed into the tree, Bettina’s grumbles obscured by the plods of Willam and Bogden trying to match Sophie’s pace.
Suddenly Robin stopped short, causing a pile-up behind him.
“Path drops off,” he said. “Almost went over the edge.” He peered back at Sophie. “Use your glow.”
The tension in Robin’s voice made Sophie’s heart thump; fear powered her magic, her fingertip beaming hot pink. She cast it over Robin’s shoulder, lighting a deep, deep pit, rimmed with ropes of moss, all the way down. Along this moss grew white flower bulbs, hundreds of them, luscious and large, their petals not yet open.
“There! Look!” Robin said, pointing. “That’s the way out!”
Sophie directed her glow to the bottom of the pit, which ended in a pool of light. Through the light, Sophie glimpsed an undulating mirage: the dusty hills of Putsi, beyond the bank.
Robin leaned over the pit and tugged hard at one of the moss-ropes. “These lines will hold. We just need to climb down.”
“All the way?” Willam said, bug-eyed.
“Willam’s scared of heights,” Bogden explained. “And beets.”
“Heights is the least of your problems,” Bettina growled.
The group looked at her.
“Wizard trees answer the exact question asked of it.” Bettina glowered at Sophie. “And this fool asked, ‘Can you show us a way out?’ Yes, that is a way out down there. Looks like it, at least. But Sophie’s question wasn’t specific enough. There could be other ways out. Bad ways out that lead to death. There’s a reason the tree was locked away. There’s a reason the king who sought an answer from a wizard tree died. Everything here is a trap.”
Sophie tugged anxiously at her dress.
“We’ve come this far,” Robin blustered, gripping a rope and descending into the pit. “Don’t touch anything or do anything stupid!”
Bogden slid onto another rope, plunging backwards—“Whoaaa!”—before he steadied himself. Dripping sweat, he peeked up at Willam. “Close your eyes and jump on,” Bogden panted. “Anything happens and I’ll catch you.”
His freckled friend didn’t hesitate. Willam closed his eyes and joined Bogden on his rope.
Sophie smiled to herself. Agatha would have surely done the same for her. Who knew that two boys could have the same bond as a princess and a witch, she thought, searching for her own vine and finding a tether of moss that looked especially sturdy. Inch by inch, she dragged herself down, lighting up the pit with her glow, surprised by how the gluey moss molded to her hands and bare feet, magically assisting the climb. She glanced over at Bogden and Willam across the pit, Robin at their wing, all descending quickly, smoothly—
A face plunged into view an inch from hers, along with a whiff of cloying sweetness. Bettina sucked a red lollipop, staring Sophie down from the next rope over.
“A thousand vines to choose from,” said Sophie, “and you can’t stay away.”
“Making sure you don’t do anything else stupid,” Bettina huffed, dropping fast.
Sophie scrambled to keep up. “How did a Jaunt Jolie princess end up a reporter in Camelot anyway?”
“Don’t need to go to that school to make a difference,” Bettina needled. “After Arthur died, I knew the Woods should keep a close eye on his realm. If your fairy tale proved anything, it’s that you school kids are ill-equipped to be in charge.”
“Pity you didn’t get into our school. You would have made a fine wicked stepmother one day.”
“More like Cinderella, mopping up your messes.”
“Is there a reason you have to do it so odiously?”
“Snake almost hanged my whole family and then you give him the throne.”
“Me? It wasn’t my fault!”
“You kissed Rhian, didn’t you?” Bettina attacked. “You fell into his and Japeth’s trap. All because you were jealous of your best friend becoming queen.”
“Don’t you dare,” Sophie flamed, tailing her. “You don’t know the slightest thing about Agatha and me—”
“I covered Agatha’s tenure as princess firsthand,” Bettina replied. “She confided quite a bit.”
Sophie reddened. “Aggie . . . said I was jealous of her?”
“No, but from your tone, now I know it’s true,” said Bettina, moving along. “Sometimes a reporter has to tease out a story.”
“Oh, I remember,” said Sophie, chasing her. “Agatha mentioned a vapid, candy-sucking girl from the Courier . . . empty in the head . . .”
Bettina slowed, unsure if Sophie was teasing out her own story. “Fair enough. I figured playing stupid was the best way to get close to Agatha. You know, considering her choice in friends.”
Sophie reeled as if she’d been slapped. By the time she’d untied her tongue, Bettina was already a long way down. Nothing to do but admit defeat, Sophie sighed. It was a rare feeling: something only Agatha inspired, given her best friend’s ability to find her vulnerable spots and lance right through them . . .
Just thinking of Agatha made Sophie’s heart sink. Her best friend. Her soul sister. Once upon a time, they had every day together: aimless walks, shared secrets, unbreakable love. But Sophie had wanted more. Sophie wanted a prince. Suddenly, the life she knew with Agatha was gone. Ever since, they’d tried to find their way back to the way things used to be. Would they die trying? Or worse still, was this their ending? Blissful moments together, then violent separations, over and over, reminding them of what they’d had and lost? An endless, futile chase into the maze rather than out of it?
She was so deep in her trance that when the whisper started, Sophie thought it was coming from her own head.
“I know a way out . . . the real way out . . .”
Only the voice was a boy’s: young and assured.
Sophie looked up. No one there. She swept her pink glow, lighting the area near her rope, but her route had pulled her around a serrated ridge, far from the others; she couldn’t even see Bettina or Robin or the boys anymore. Sophie quickened her pace, skittering downwards—
“I know the way out of your lonely life.”
Louder this time.
Right in her ear.
She spun to find a flower, ghostly white, its petals sealed around a blue glow.
“The way out is a name . . . ,” it whispered, bending towards her. “Your true love’s name . . . Your forever prince . . .”
Sophie’s heart drummed faster.
“Open me up . . .” The flower caressed Sophie’s lips. “I’ll show you the way . . . I’ll tell you his name . . .”
Her blood burned with liquid heat. All rational sense was gone. Without thinking, Sophie thrust her hand at the petals—