The wizard tree smashed into the lobby of the bank, multiplying out of the marble, bludgeoning the stunned phoenixes aside, and throttling straight for the ceiling. Sophie hung on tight, ducking under branches . . . BOOM! The force of the tree shattered the walls, infinite limbs burgeoning freely into the night, scraps of Ever and Never flags that once flew over the bank now caught limply on twigs. Taller and taller the wizard tree grew, new trees flowering off every branch, with Sophie thrust into the night atop the uppermost bough, like a crowning star. She was so far above ground she couldn’t see where the tree began, her body lofted against gravity, angling for the moon. Clinging to the top, she let out a piercing cry—
The tree stopped growing.
Clouds swept in, drenching the land in darkness.
Slowly, Sophie peeked down at the wizard tree.
A storm of life, rooted in the ruins of wealth.
She couldn’t see Robin or Bettina or the boys.
She couldn’t see anyone.
How am I alive?
Am I alive?
Wind slashed through, shaking Sophie’s branch, nearly blowing her off it.
Yeah . . . I’m alive.
She wouldn’t last long up here. Nor was her dress any protection against the chill, the ghost of Evelyn Sader useless when she needed her most.
Shivering violently, Sophie started to descend, but the gusts were too strong. Her foot slid and she plunged onto the next branch, which snapped under her, leaving her gripping on to a sliver of wood with a single fist. Reaching her toes for the next limb down, she slowly lowered herself, but new gusts assaulted her, tossing her against the branch, her head tipped over it, her feet kicking in midair. From the inside of her dress, she saw the pearl with Merlin’s beard slip out—
Sophie yelped, flailing for it, but she toppled harder, about to fall out of the tree.
She had to choose.
Sophie grabbed on to the branch.
The pearl fell.
The tournament’s first test.
Tedros’ only hope.
Down, down, down, into the darkness—
And then . . .
And then . . .
The pearl started floating back up.
Shielded in sparkly green dust.
A small, pale hand caught it, coated in the same green dust.
“Agatha?” Sophie breathed.
Slowly her best friend landed on Sophie’s bough, shimmering like a phantom.
Tears sprung to Sophie’s eyes. “Are . . . are you . . . real?”
Agatha pressed her hand to Sophie’s cheek, warm and soft.
“But how—” Sophie choked.
A grumpy, green-dressed fairy poked out of Agatha’s hair, flinging a spritz of fairy dust into the air as if to make it clear whose magic was responsible.
Agatha raised the pearl into the moonlight, inspecting Merlin’s beard. She smiled with relief at her friend. “Quite a team, you and I.”
Gobsmacked, Sophie glanced around.
No Tedros.
No Hort.
No boys.
Just her and Agatha, high in a tree.
The way they once were, atop an oak in Gavaldon, before a stymph arrived and kidnapped them into the Woods. It was on a branch, just like this, that they had their final moments together before everything changed.
And suddenly Sophie understood.
That flower she’d opened.
Sophie and Agatha.
Agatha and Sophie.
This was it.
The tree had given her what she wanted.
Back to two girls.
Back to the beginning.
The way they used to be.
The true way out.
Two girls stared into each other’s eyes, savoring this Ever After, waiting for the Storian to write it . . . waiting for the Pen to make it real . . .
But Man isn’t Pen.
Not yet.
Tinkerbell let out a scream of warning.
Both girls reached for the other, as if to hold on to the moment—
But time was up.
Their beginning had come to an end.
13
TEDROS
Pride and Princess
“You sure your girlfriend isn’t a crackpot?” Hort’s man-wolf growled, pacing in the dark forest.
Tedros ignored him as he tried to rock Merlin to sleep.
“Consider the evidence,” Hort went on. “First she says Robin Hood left her a message in magic dust at the Arrow. A message no one else saw. Then she says Merlin appeared to her and told her to come to Putsi. Both sound pretty crackpot to me.”
Through the thicket, Tedros glimpsed the wizard tree in the distance, rising high over the land. Movement flickered in its branches, but they were too far away to see more. Putsi was a well-armed city: the shock of a wizard tree bursting out of the bank would bring the bank’s guards and the Empress’s flying minions. Tedros’ stomach knotted, the baby fussing with his shirt. He shouldn’t have let Agatha go off alone.
“You’re worrying if she’s wrong? I’m worried if she’s right,” the prince returned, so focused on the tree he didn’t notice Merlin squiggling out of his arms. “What if the answer was in Putsi all along?”
“Then pray we find it before the Snake,” Hort said, rescuing Merlin into his paws before the baby slipped. “Whoever wins the first test gets a head start for the second. And if the Snake gets too far ahead . . .”
Wind axed through the trees, finishing Hort’s thought. Tedros watched him cradle Merlin into his dark fur, the baby’s eyes starting to close. How could I be so stupid? Tedros thought. His dad wouldn’t have expected him to track down the wizard in his old age and lop off his beard. Especially after Arthur and Merlin had gone their separate ways. For all his father knew, Merlin would have been long dead. And yet, Tedros had done what he’d always done: made assumptions without thinking.
Agatha was right.
The beard was here in Putsi.
Only he’d come to this realization too late.
Which meant his first test was no longer up to him.
It was up to her.
Agatha, who was out there right now, fighting Tedros’ battle. All on her own.
And here Tedros was, twiddling his thumbs, just like he had at Camelot when Agatha usurped his quest the first time. Long before there was a King Rhian or King Japeth, there was a masked attacker, daring Tedros to come fight him. But it had been Agatha who answered the call instead of Tedros, the prince willing to stay behind.
The mistake that started it all.
But he’d learned from that, Tedros thought angrily. He was different now. He was ready to be a king. If only his princess would stay out of the way.
Tedros’ blood simmered, his father’s ring cold on his hand.
That’s what this tournament was supposed to be about, wasn’t it? Proving himself? Even Agatha had admitted that, back at the inn. So why was he still loitering here like a princess in waiting while she was off hunting the answer to his test?
He’d tried to stop her. On the short trip from Bloodbrook, Tedros had assumed they’d battle the Snake together. That they’d track down Merlin’s lost beard as a team. But just as they’d gotten to the forest’s edge, the wizard tree rising into view, Agatha ordered him and Hort to stay put.
“What? The Snake’s out there!” Tedros said, thrown.
“And if he kills you now and takes your ring, we’re all dead,” said Agatha, dismounting Hort’s wolf. “Keep Merlin safe. I’ll be back soon.”